But the Secaaran wasn’t caught off guard. Leaning forward, he rammed his shield forward and then heaved, pitching the Baron off him. Immediately, the chain whistled, and he lashed out with his weapon.
This time, it was the Baron who was ready. He dodged the blow and dove on the Secaaran again, claws flashing and scraping a chunk out of the rock man’s face. The scraps of the head bag came with it and more of the yellow bile spilled out of the enemy’s rocky skin, this time coating the Geckon’s claws. He raised his arm again to strike.
And his head exploded in gore as Dragga’s hammer smashed down on it. The body dropped to the deck with a heavy thump and blood pooled out. Dragga’s hammer clunked to the deck after him and then she went from her standing position back down to one knee, breathing coming in ragged gasps.
“Sister!” Stryx cried, rushing forward.
She batted aside her brother’s concern. “I’m fine. Just a few… scratches.” Then she slumped to the side against the bulkhead. “Gravity got all… funny.”
“No,” Stryx said, a strange pain in his chest far outweighing the wounds on his face. When she collapsed completely, he started screaming incoherently and pounding the bulkhead with one fist.
Less than a minute later, a party of soldiers rounded the corner and found him there, clutching the still form of Dragga. “Medic!” one of the zheen bellowed. It was War Leader Vok, Stryx realized, but his mind was closed off for some reason. He had a hard time focusing. Cromm was dead and while the zheen medic worked desperately on Dragga, Stryx knew it would be for nothing. He was alone now.
“Brother!” came a bellow from down the corridor.
Stryx’s head came up. “It cannot be,” he whispered.
“Get up, you lazy cur!” came a deep baritone. He looked over and, miracle of miracles, Cromm stood there, wielding an axe so small it looked almost like a garden spade in his massive fist. Stryx rushed down the corridor and embraced him, the pain and knot in his chest loosening, somewhat. Cromm patted him on the back with his one good arm, his other immobilized.
He pulled his brother back. “What happened?”
Stryx pointed to the Geckon corpse on the deck. “That thing shot her in the back with a heavy weapon. I don’t know what it was loaded with.” His voice trailed off.
“We need to get her back to Ganges, War Leader,” the medic stated, unequivocally. “We can get her into the tank. Can’t do anything here and I won’t trust their sickbay.”
“All right, Jook, you and the brothers get back to the shuttle and then back to the ship,” Vok ordered. “The rest of us will find the remaining crew and deal with them; then I will radio the Commander and inform him the ship is ours.” He looked to the two Secaaran brothers. “They’ll save her, boys.”
The two weren’t so sure, but Vok wouldn’t lie. So they just nodded glumly.
“You did good,” he told them, nodding. “But next time, just tell me what you’re doing, and we can get it done right.” Again they nodded, but Stryx scooped up his sister in his arms, staggering a bit under her weight and with Cromm holding her legs, they rushed down the corridor at a dead run.
((--[][]--))
“Commander, all four of the Baron Death freighters are secured, and War Leader Vok reports the frigate is ours,” the comms operator reported.
Hestian sat back in satisfaction. “Make sure that all ships are ready for the trip back to Tyseus. Comms, make sure we coordinate some sort of formation. I want to make the trip back together.” He checked his displays. Gr’kenth and Xekxik had sustained light damage in the fight, Gawilghur, however, would need time in the yard before she’d be ready for a combat mission again. Still, the Baron was dead, the asteroid base smashed, and their ships were either his or destroyed.
“Once we get the wounded seen to and the prize crews for the ships figured out, set a course out of here and back home,” he ordered. “I think we have some further plans to make.”
Chapter 11
The shipyards at Reeshee barely deserved the name, compared to the ones at Tyseus or even at Hecate as far as Jensen Tyler was concerned. It was one small slip, barely good enough for maintenance work, and barely big enough to build a single corvette. Still, upon arrival, the Yard Master, a portly human male named Qrey Vasta, was impressed with the ships that had just arrived in his system, especially Nemesis. He admitted that his operation wasn’t one that could accommodate such warships, but Verrikoth demurred.
“Warsshipss are certainly important,” the Warlord agreed. “But they are not the mosst important vesselz in sspace. No, I am looking more for cargo and perssonnel carrierz. Vesselz that can carry upwardz of sseveral hundred at a time.”
“You movin’ an army?” Vasta guessed.
“Not at thiss time,” the zheen replied. “Perhapss at ssome point, but for now, I want to have sshipss moving goodz and people between the local sstarss. There are many goodz here that could sstand to be in marketss in Caridossia, Ulla-tran and Amethysst. Even Tysseuss could benefit from ssome of the goodz here. I just lack the transsport capacity.” He chittered. “I would be more than happy to pay for the privilege.”
The man’s face lit up like a rising sun. “Well, good sir, I believe we can do some business.” After a few more hours of discussion, Verrikoth secured the use of the slip for himself, and within two months would have two new light freighters under his command. They were small ships, only capable of carrying less than a thousand metric tons of cargo, but they could operate in space and in atmo, and they were a start. He turned over several crates of gold and jewels, plunder from other worlds, but the Yard Master didn’t mind. Cash and specie were always acceptable forms of currency.
The hak’ruk female in command of this world, Damask, Regent of Reeshee, was more guarded by the arrival of Verrikoth and his warships. Though once he placed an order for cargo ships and paid in cash up front, she warmed to him. She, like the Governor of Caridosia, was happy to take him on tours of the various factories and industrial centers of the world. This place did a great deal of mining in a pair of mountain ranges in the southern continent, more than five sites bringing up iron, gold, copper, lead, platinum and more, one site even bringing in fissionables.
Unlike Caridosia, however, Reeshee had more in the way of defensive assets, though still nothing that could seriously challenge a determined attacker. They had a squadron of aerospace fighters capable of reaching very high orbit, as well as another squadron of purely spacefaring starfighters. Their pilots were decently trained, but they had very little combat experience. They’d faced an attack by one of the pirate gangs, the Argos Liberation Front, about eight years ago and with their own flagship, an ancient Republic corvette, the Umbara, they’d managed to drive them off. Verrikoth was less impressed with what they had but was pleased with their prowess after seeing the sensor records of that battle long ago.
The Regent was certainly happy to discuss a trade agreement, as well as the desire to purchase a few warships from Tyseus for defense. Verrikoth, in turn, would send the new freighters he was building, as laden with trade good as they could back to Tyseus once they were completed, with orders to build a shiny new corvette for their systems defense.
In private, discussions turned more serious as the subject of the Republic was brought up. Not wanting to panic the world leader, Verrikoth kept his thoughts and reports about Republic task forces attacking Argos star systems to himself, but he did make the argument that as the levels of industry and technology in these worlds increased, so would the level of scrutiny from outside forces. And this had been Republic territory not all that long ago. As such, a move toward increasing both trade and buildup of military forces, ships, weapons, and materiel would be in everyone’s best interest.
The Regent agreed, in principle. The idea of the Republic caring at all about Reeshee was ludicrous. Even considering all four of the Red Sphinx Systems together, with all their populations, industry and resources, it was still incomprehensible. Still, she had jus
t agreed to purchase a new warship from his yards and increasing trade with new star systems, so Verrikoth had to accept it as a move in the right direction.
((--[][]--))
Vybex was a quiet world, by comparison to the rest of the Red Sphinx Quadrant so far. It was a small world, with huge stretches of fertile land in a river delta, as well as on a volcanic soil field that was tilled for farming. As the shuttle passed overhead on their initial survey of the southern continent (the only inhabited one), Verrikoth could see a quilt of tilled and irrigated soil, with tracts of land devoted to orchards, some of them kilometers in size.
“A great and verdant world,” the Warlord remarked, pleased.
Of course, getting here proved a tad more interesting than it had in the other systems. There were three starships in orbit of the planet Vybex, the Star of Minerva, a light cruiser, plus two corvettes, all of whom were in good if not perfect repair. A group of ships that strong would cause serious trouble for Verrikoth’s small squadron, though of course he would carry the day, but he would incur damage that he could ill afford at this point.
When Nemesis and Kopesh pulled up to the planet, the Star of Minerva and her two escorts immediately moved out to intercept. The light cruiser already had its shields raised and weapons powered, and the corvettes were starting to follow suit.
“Full scan,” Jensen Tyler ordered. “Bring our shields up.”
“Do not power weaponz until you receive my sspecific order,” the Warlord ordered. “I will not have an accident cauzze a firefight among alliezz.”
“Aye, my Lord,” Tyler replied, looking at his commander out of the corner of his eye. “Sensors! Report,” he barked.
“Coming in now, sir,” the zheen Helk said. He pressed a few more commands. “Light cruiser in the center is the Star of Minerva. I’m showing a registry on her ID beacon. She’s a Dancer-class out of Horgronn, at least seventy years old. The corvettes with her are both Paris-class, and they’re even older, almost a century. According to what I’m showing, the Star of Minerva’s aft shields are slightly degraded, only holding at eighty percent, but the rest looks solid. They seem to have taken care of those ships.” The zheen paused for a moment. “Maybe they even got spare parts from Reeshee.”
“Makes sense, since these systems are working in cooperation,” Tyler answered, tapping his chin.
“The corvettes are using fourth-gen laser cannons,” Helk went on. “We’d take some damage, but they are about a generation or possibly even as much as two behind what we’ve got on our corvettes.”
“Do not fire,” Verrikoth repeated. “Commz, hail the light cruizer. Order Commander Ssokann to have hiz sshipss ready for launch, but they are to sstay on the deck until my order.”
“Understood, Warlord,” Coryn Garethos replied at Flight Ops.
The comms operator nodded. A second later, he nodded again. “Sstar of Minerva, thiss iz Warlord Verrikoth aboard my flagsship Nemessiss. I bid you greetingz and I assure you, I mean no harm to your vesselz or your people.”
An image appeared on the display, the shiny black carapace of a hak’ruk. “Warlord Verrikoth, we meet at last.” The voice was distinctly female, but it carried a drawl to it, one of complete arrogance and mastery over all the hak’ruk surveyed. It was uncomfortably similar to that of the Xai’ryn, in Verrikoth’s opinion. “I wondered if we ever would. Though I must say, my Lord, I expected a larger fleet under your command.”
“I apologizze for the delay in our meeting,” Verrikoth said. “I do not mean to keep my alliezz and friendzz waiting. I had ssome buziness to attend to, and then ssome pirate annoyancez to deal with. But I am here now.”
“Indeed, you are,” the hak’ruk answered. “Very well, as I’m sure you have already surmised, I am Xheeshan, the Red Sphinx and this is my flagship, the Star of Minerva. Welcome to Vybex.”
“Thank you,” Verrikoth replied. “Now if you would power down your weaponzz, we can get to the reazonz we are here.”
The hak’ruk gave off a slight hum of surprise. “What? Oh, yes, of course.” She flicked one taloned hand to the side.
Helk bobbed his antennae. “Their weapons are powering down, Commander,” he said to Tyler, who nodded.
The hak’ruk waved expansively, emitting a song from her thorax. “Yes, of course, of course. I sent word down to the surface to prepare for our arrival. A great feast will be held in your honor, Warlord, to celebrate this formal alliance! Come, bring your retinue down to my house and we will celebrate!” And the line dropped.
“All three ships are reversing course, Warlord,” the sensor officer reported.
Verrikoth sat in silence for a long moment, almost shocked at what the Red Sphinx had just offered. Tyler acknowledged the sensor officer. “It appearz we have a meeting with her.”
“Yes, my Lord, it would,” Tyler agreed, stroking his chin. “I will have a shuttle prepped.”
“Join me, Commander,” the zheen said, turning toward him. “She ssaid to bring my retinue, so I will bring my flag captain and a few otherz. We musst make a good impression.”
Which led to them flying down from orbit over the landscape. The shuttle flew over the largest town in the area where the Red Sphinx had her dwelling. Dwelling was a bit of an understatement after the zheen laid eyes on the sprawling chateau located on a massive estate. The chateau appeared to be six levels in height, hundreds of rooms around a cobblestone courtyard with manicured lawns and gardens all around.
The shuttles touched down on a prepared ferrocrete landing pad about a hundred meters from the main building complex. Verrikoth, Tyler, Flayl and their guards stepped out and onto the landing pad. They were met by retainers from the household, other hak’ruk and a trio of humans.
“The Red Sphinx will be down from her ship momentarily, good sirs,” one of the humans told them. “She ordered me to bring you into one of the main lounges and to provide refreshments.” He gestured to the side. “If my lords will follow me?”
Verrikoth said nothing but started forward, Tyler grunted to himself and Flayl maintained her composure, only lightly humming in irritation. All of them were irked by the fact that the leader of this world, after inviting his guests to his home, did not bother to show up himself to meet them. Verrikoth was keeping his counsel, however, but Tyler was sure that it wouldn’t be long before the Warlord showed that ire. He couldn’t help but smirk a bit, waiting for that moment to happen.
The feast was impressive. Tables of dishes, all locally sourced, vegetables and fruits, fish and various game birds. Verrikoth and his people took plates and began to eat, the guards standing sentinel.
After more than an hour and a half of waiting, making polite conversation with the retainers, as well as a human male who apparently was the civilian administrator for this world, who had plenty to say about his world. They discussed the various exports and industries, Verrikoth set up a resupply order which the man immediately commed to his people to be delivered to the shuttle. He found he liked this human, a capable man, who seemed to have little trouble running this world.
“Why are you not in charge?” Verrikoth asked him.
The man chuckled nervously. “Oh, my Lord Verrikoth, I am more than happy to manage, but I’m no leader. Besides, the Red Sphinx is our leader. She’s the one with the warships.”
“I… ssee…” Verrikoth answered, not entirely sure he did.
The man went on. “Well, I mean, she did fight off that pirate raid a few years back and kept this colony safe. There are over two hundred thousand people here and his fleet killed two pirate ships and drove off three more.”
“How long ago waz thiss?”
The man didn’t hesitate. “Four years ago last month.”
“Very well. I would enjoy hearing the sstory from her.” The zheen looked around, his antennae curling in irritation. “Where is she?” he demanded of one of the other retainers.
“My Lord, I’m sorry. I do not know,” one of the hak’ruk replied, humming in conste
rnation. “The Red Sphinx had not commed us since just before you landed.”
“I ssee.” He stood and waved his officers to their feet. “We’re leaving. I think we’ve sseen all I need to here.” Ignoring their protests, he led them out, the guards in tow. One of the hak’ruk scuttled along, pleading for the Warlord just to be patient, entreating him just to come back inside. But Verrikoth was implacable, headed straight back to the shuttle.
He was surprised, frankly, that not only was the shuttle still intact, but the pilot was inside, locking down the last of the cargo containers. She looked a little bored but was still ready to go. The human female pilot perked up and stood to attention as the Warlord approached.
“Take off,” Verrikoth ordered, coming inside and seating himself in the chair behind the pilot’s couch. “And hail Nemessiss.” When the comm channel clicked open, he spoke. “Thiss iz the Warlord. Report sstatuss.”
“Helk here, my Lord. All systems operational, no new contacts.”
“Any activity from the local sshipss? Any shuttles launched?”
“No, my Lord. No ships were launched,” Helk replied. “But they seem to be involved in a wargame of some sort. They’ve been engaged in attack maneuvers, shooting targeting lasers at one another since your ship hit atmosphere.”
“Wargamez,” Verrikoth deadpanned.
Helk hesitated. “Y-yes, Lord Verrikoth. They are using a basic comm encryption that we already broke and their weapons are powered down to targeting power levels. It certainly looks like a wargame, my Lord.”
Verrikoth chittered in disgust. “Pilot, take uss back to the sship, then bring Flayl back to Kopessh.”
On the trip back, Verrikoth consulted the shuttle’s sensors which confirmed Helk’s report. The three ships, Star of Minerva, Jupiter’s Gaze and Eye of Athena were looping around and over and past one another, peppering each other with low-power lasers. It actually pleased him to see the three ships working on training maneuvers because while those very maneuvers were silly (no one fought in combat so close where the ships might scrape paint off each other’s hulls), their piloting skills and gunnery were top notch. Perhaps the dandy has his uses after all.
The Warlord's Path: Samair in Argos: Book 6 Page 24
