by Rachel Aukes
“Hari,” Critch said. “Has the fleet shown any indication of breaking orbit yet?”
Hari looked off screen again. “No. They are still holding in the same orbital configuration. Wait. I take it back. It looks like the two frigates have broken off.”
“Captain,” Nolin yelled, “we have two frigates on an intercept course.”
“Shields up,” Heid commanded with frustration. The Arcadia must’ve been caught on a scan, something she hadn’t expected. She turned back to her comm panel. “They’re on their way to me. I’ll report in after we deal with them.” With that, she hung up the comm and turned her attention back to the bridge.
“How far out?” she asked.
“Fifteen thousand clicks,” Nolin said. “They’re increasing speed, and have raised their shields.”
Heid hit her internal comm. “Jovo, activate missiles one and two.”
“Activating missiles one and two, Captain,” came Jovovich’s reply.
She turned to Luther. “You have two missiles, Luther. Make each one count.”
“I will.” His hard gaze relayed how serious he was. Heid, like the rest of her crew who’d served in the CUF, had no experience with projectiles. They’d only been trained on energy weapons. Luther, a torrent from the Uprising, had extensive experience with every type of projectile weapon from machine guns to guided missile systems. She prayed his skills hadn’t rusted too much in twenty years.
“Ten thousand clicks,” Nolin said. “We’re in photon range.”
“Prepare for evasive maneuvers,” Heid ordered. “Sylvian, ping them. Warn them that if they fire upon us, we will attack.”
A second later. “Ping sent.”
“Five thousand clicks. They’ve fired phase cannons!” Nolin announced. “I’m feeding trajectories now.”
As soon as the trajectories were entered into the system, Will banked the ship to avoid the blasts with plenty of distance between them.
The frigates fired again, and the process repeated. This time, the distance between the ship and blasts was smaller.
“Three thousand clicks,” Nolin said.
“Will, I need you to line up nose to nose with those frigates,” Luther said.
“Hold on,” Will said as his hands flew over the controls. “Okay. How’s that?”
“Almost…yes, right there.” Luther fired both guided missiles, one right after the other.
Each frigate quit firing as it maneuvered to avoid the new threat. They reacted to the missiles like they would photon blasts, which cost them. They banked to evade the missiles. As the missiles passed in between the two frigates, Luther exploded them, and shrapnel flew out from each missile in a 180-degree arc. Shrapnel cut through energy shields like butter, and pierced the hulls.
Projectiles weren’t showy like phase cannons, but they got the job done more easily. With their hulls compromised in hundreds of small places, each frigate was losing crucial oxygen and heat too fast to replenish. Both ships turned and blasted back toward the fleet. Heid wondered if they’d make it back before their crews perished. She never enjoyed seeing lives lost, but she had no problem in seeing it done if it meant protecting her people.
Let them come.
Thirteen
Complications
Torrent Headquarters, Terra
Reyne
Reyne entered orbit on the opposite side of Terra from where the CUF fleet sat above Rebus Station. He was surprised to find no drones or ships preventing him from landing. Of course, to leave, he needed the space docks, and the CUF sat in position to make a shooting gallery of anything that launched from the docks.
Fortunately, the CUF didn’t know about Seda Faulk’s secret spaceport, which had become the torrent headquarters on Terra. Once the Gryphon broke the atmosphere, Reyne kept the ship at an altitude of twenty thousand meters so he could maintain a decent speed and not fight turbulence on his trip halfway around the world.
Even pushing the engines, it took another four hours for the Gryphon to reach Seda’s runway. He tapped the comm and announced across the ship, “Prepare for landing.”
“I don’t see it yet,” Wen, a new torrent from Nova Colony, said from the seat Sixx usually sat in.
“Trust me, it’s there,” Reyne said. With a holographic canopy above the property, the spaceport looked like a rocky pasture. Reyne had been in and out of there before, though each time he brought the ship through the holographic ground was an unpleasant adrenaline rush.
As the ship sped toward what looked like rocky ground, Wen sucked in a breath.
Reyne held his breath too, until the ship passed through the camouflage and the spaceport came into full view. “It’s there,” he said on an exhale.
He’d sent an encrypted ping as soon as he’d entered orbit, to announce his arrival. When he saw a docking bay with a green light, he maneuvered the Gryphon into position and initiated the docking sequence. The ship lowered into the bay with a screeching thud, and Reyne winced. He glanced back at Wen. “I’m a bit rusty.”
“I’m not complaining,” Wen replied. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“I’m shutting down engines,” Boden’s voice came through the comms.
Reyne tapped his comm. “We’re here. Welcome to Terra. Grab your bags and prepare to exit.”
Wen stood. “I guess I’d better go clear out my bunk then.”
“See you outside,” Reyne said without looking back. He initiated the shutdown sequence, and the panel displayed the status of each system as it shut down in order. When the panel went blank, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.
He rubbed his stiff fingers and stretched his back. Every joint complained at lack of movement for so many hours. In his younger days, he could sit for an entire day without any problems. But he was sixty-seven now. If he were a citizen, he’d be in the prime of his life, but in the fringe, sixty-seven made him downright old.
He entered a code to lock down the Gryphon’s systems, and headed off the bridge. In the hallway, the dozen fresh-faced torrents stood at the door, ready to exit. Though, calling them “fresh-faced” was a stretch. Most were still skin-and-bones, and a few were up there in age with Reyne.
“Coming through,” Reyne said as he weaved through the ragtag group. He opened the door and exited first. He stood off to the side as the rest walked down the ramp. A few were a bit wobbly as their bodies adjusted to the shift from the reduced gravity Reyne kept the Gryphon at to Terra’s 1.2g.
“New arrivals, over here.” A man waved at the crowd, and the passengers migrated in that direction.
Reyne noticed Sixx standing at the end of the dock, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. Reyne smiled back, and strode toward his second-in-command.
“Took you long enough to make it back here,” Sixx said as Reyne approached.
They embraced in a bear hug.
Reyne stepped back. “It’s good to see you.”
Reyne could see the stress and fatigue behind his friend’s features. “I heard about the Myr trip. I’m sorry that you didn’t find what you were looking for.”
Sixx waved him off. “It’s been eleven years. What should I expect?”
“You should expect answers,” Reyne said. “Any husband deserves that.”
He blew out a breath. “The deeper I go, the more of a mess it becomes. I finally found a servant who recognized Qelle’s picture. She said she’d seen her a few months back at the Smithton flower market.” He held out a hand as though he wanted to make a fist. “Then later that same day, I came across another servant who not only recognized Qelle’s picture but also said she knew her, and that Qelle had been dead for six years.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is that until I’m positive Qelle is gone, I can’t quit looking for her.”
“We,” Reyne said. “We won’t quit looking for her.”
Boden came up. “Ah, look what the cat dragged in.”
Reyne couldn’t tell which man look
ed more tired: the thief who’d had his wife stolen from him, or the recovering drug addict who’d spent time in a sweet soy den.
Sixx didn’t make a witty comeback. Instead, he looked over Boden’s shoulder. “Where’s Throttle?”
No answer came.
Sixx’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Reyne to Boden. Boden lowered his head and walked off without a word. Sixx turned back to Reyne. “What happened?”
“We believe droms picked her up at the docks in Devil Town.”
Sixx took a step back like he’d been shot, and then paced in a small circle. Reyne knew exactly how his friend felt. Sixx had been a part of the crew since Throttle had been a child. He’d been a big brother to her, and would take her loss as hard, if not harder, than Reyne was taking it.
Sixx stopped. “Is she still alive?” His voice cracked.
“I think so,” Reyne said, and then added a hard, “Yes. Nothing’s been on the news.” They both knew what Reyne had meant by that statement. Throttle was part of an infamous crew. If the CUF had her, she’d be publicly executed. That they had seen no news of an execution gave Reyne hope. “Vym’s sent out for word on her whereabouts. We’ll find her.”
Sixx furled his brow, unconvinced.
“We’ll find her,” Reyne repeated, harder.
“We’ll find her. We’ll find both of them.” Sixx clapped Reyne on the shoulder, and the pair began to walk slowly to the hangar Boden was entering.
When they reached the hangar door, Reyne inhaled deeply, for the first time noticing the fresh Terran air. “When this is all said and done, we’re going to take a very long vacation somewhere very far from any sort of trouble.”
Sixx grunted. “Don’t forget, I still have that biome kit. I plan to find myself a nice little moon somewhere and set up a nice little terraformed ranch for myself when this is all done.”
Reyne smirked. “You’d go crazy on a moon by yourself with nothing to steal.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m ready to try something else.”
With that, he held the door open for Reyne and then followed the captain inside.
It’d been a year since Reyne had been at Seda Faulk’s personal retreat. That a single person could own something most colonies couldn’t afford hinted at the massive fortune the man had attained from his business enterprises. Easily the richest of all colonists, Seda’s wealth surpassed that of many citizens. Without Seda’s support for the Fringe Liberation Campaign, the CUF would’ve quashed the rebellion within the first weeks. As it stood, Seda had given the fringe a fighting chance.
Knowing that both the CUF and the Founders would try multiple assassination attempts, they’d tried to keep Seda hidden from the public eye. That was a task proving to be impossible.
Sixx and Reyne walked through the massive hangar to the rooms at the other end. When they walked into the lounge, Seda and Critch—who’d been talking with Heid via a wall screen—both stopped and turned. They stood and approached Reyne.
Seda reached Reyne first, and they clasped forearms. “I’m glad you could make it. Did the fleet in orbit cause any trouble for you?”
“Strangely, not a peep,” Reyne answered.
“That’s what I was expecting.” Seda stepped back. “There’s a lot we need to catch you up on.”
Critch clasped Reyne’s forearm. “I won’t kid you. Things are a mess.”
“What else is new?” Reyne replied drily, and he took a seat.
Heid waved through the comm. “It’s good to see you, Reyne.”
He gave her a small nod. “Good to see you, too, Gabriela. I hear you’ve been keeping Vym busy.”
“Yes, a third of production has been switched to preparing the colony ship.”
“What?” Seda and Critch asked at the same time.
She glanced at the other men in the room. “I’m working with Vym to rebuild and stock the Matador for a colonization mission. I’ll send you the plans, but I know we have more pressing matters today.”
“You’ve repurposed the Matador?” Critch asked through narrowed eyes. “We’re going to need that ship to transport supplies to the colonies. This is no time to talk about colonizing more worlds. You know the amount of resources that takes away from the Campaign?”
“The Campaign is why we need to talk about colonizing new worlds now rather than later,” she said.
“We shouldn’t even be thinking about colonization,” Critch countered.
Heid glared. “Have you always been this hardheaded?”
“No,” Critch replied. “I’ve become more laid back.”
She blew out a breath. “We have so many refugees to resettle, and many of these refugees want a fresh start—not on an established colony, but somewhere new. This is a chance for the fringe to start fresh, without the Collective’s shadow.”
“Without juice, the Matador will take decades to reach new solar systems with habitable worlds. That means it’ll need to be a generation ship, not just a transport ship,” Seda said.
Heid frowned. “I heard about the plants. That puts a cramp on the plans, but we can work around it.”
“How will you find a crew?” Critch asked. “No one’s going to want to be a bus driver for the rest of their life.”
Heid lifted her chin. “I’m going to captain the ship. And I’ve already received the names of several volunteers who want to join my crew.”
“You?” Critch asked, incredulous. “We need you here, for the Campaign. You can’t—”
“Yes, I can,” she interrupted. “My mind is already made up. As soon as we have a peace treaty, I’ll captain the Matador. I see it as the most important command I’ll ever take. Don’t you see? I’ll be shepherding humankind to a new solar system. We messed things up in the Jovian and Centauri systems. Maybe I can help get things right in the third system.”
Critch waved her off. “We’ll talk about this later. You were right before. We have bigger things to cover, starting with what the hell is the Arcadia doing in a face-off against the fleet about Rebus Station?”
“I didn’t anticipate their scans picking us up,” she said.
“You shouldn’t even be here,” Critch said. “We can’t risk losing our only warship.”
“What good is a warship if it’s not used?” she answered, sounding exasperated.
“One warship facing off against two warships, each with their own complement? Exactly how is that level?” Critch demanded.
“The Arcadia can hold her own,” Heid replied with confidence. “Two frigates are out of commission.”
Critch waved a hand. “Oh, great. That only leaves two warships, two more frigates, and a dozen destroyers, not to mention several dozen gunships.”
“I have reasonable confidence one of those warships will not attack.”
“Reasonable confidence? Exactly what does that mean?” Critch continued.
“Enough,” Seda bellowed. “The Arcadia is in orbit, which means the fleet is focused on Heid at the moment. That may be what’s preventing Ausyar from firing on another Terran target.” He turned to Heid. “Have they tried to contact you yet?”
Her features smoothed, and she straightened. “They’re broadcasting a message on endless loop. Corps General Ausyar demands the immediate surrender of my crew and me on the grounds of treason and theft of Collective property.”
Which is true, Reyne thought to himself.
“Did he give you a time limit to respond?” Seda asked.
“No,” she said. “He’s stalling. After the frigates, I don’t believe he’s ready to initiate another attack until he better understands the Arcadia’s modifications. However, I’m keeping the entire crew on full alert. The moment they fire—either on us or on Terra—we will attack the Unity.”
Seda placed his hands on his desk. “I believe we should use the Arcadia to our advantage. Now is the time to negotiate a peace treaty.”
“We don’t have the upper hand,” Reyne said. “They’ll take everything they can.”
<
br /> “They’ll screw us on any negotiation,” Critch agreed.
“You really think Ausyar will negotiate?” Heid asked.
“No,” Seda said bluntly. “If I sit down with him, we’ll know if Parliament is interested in peace, or how far they intend to go down the warpath. Sixx and I saw public opinion on Myr. Citizens are tired of feeding money into the CUF to monitor the colonies, most of which they don’t even want. For every protest on Myr, there are dozens of protests taking place on Alluvia. The vast majority of Alluvians are even talking about breaking free from the Collective themselves. Public opinion is in our favor. Now is the perfect time to hold out our hands in peace. As the Campaign drags on, citizens are bound to become apathetic, or worse, begin to side with the CUF.”
Silence filled the room for a moment.
“I support negotiations,” Reyne said. “We lost the first Uprising because the other side outlasted us. My greatest fear is to watch the same thing happen all over again.”
“You have my support,” Heid said. “As long as you stand firm and don’t let them take rights away from the colonists. The colonies need to stand free. This may be our only chance to free them all.”
“I’m in,” Critch said. “If they try to screw us, we can use the blight.”
Everyone turned to Critch.
“You didn’t destroy that?” Reyne asked, slack-jawed.
Critch’s lip curled upward.
Reyne guffawed. “We can’t even think of using the blight. If we do, we’re no better than them.” He pointed to the sky, to where the fleet remained in orbit.
“Let’s exhaust political options first,” Seda said, sounding like a true diplomat. “If negotiations fail, then we must discuss how expansive the Campaign should become. I’m rich, but my accounts are draining fast. I cannot support a drawn-out war. Mason knows that, and will use any knowledge he can in his favor.”
“We need to move headquarters,” Critch said. “I don’t like Mason knowing we’re here.”
“Mason knows we’re here?” Reyne asked, tension coiling in his gut.
