Elite

by Allen Stroud

  ‘Well, that’s over,’ he said. ‘We’ll fuel up and be out of here in an hour.’

  Moments later, the Gallant’s computer registered the station data links. Pietro called up the trade network and placed a refuelling order. The computer took a moment to recognise the credit ID, but then confirmed the purchase. Pietro frowned. A query had been put on his accounts owing to his disappearance in Solati. They probably declared me dead, he thought. He’d anticipated this and used an older alias. The advantage of a transaction appearing under one of his identities in a lawless system meant it was amongst hundreds of other dubious identity requests. The banking co-operatives would flag it with all the others and send them to the local authorities for checking. Likely around here, they’ll have a queue going back years.

  Beside him, Gebrial watched the numbers. ‘We don’t need to go out?’

  ‘No,’ Pietro said. ‘It’s better that way. If any bounty was posted on your recovery or my head, we’re much more likely to be found through some station camera image. We stay here and leave fast.’

  ‘What about the repairs?’

  ‘De Gaul is no place to fix up,’ Pietro said. ‘We’ve done the hard part. Now, when the fuel’s loaded, we detach and hyperspace out. Hopefully our luck holds long enough to get us through Quator and on to Lave.’

  ‘Will the ship manage?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Pietro knew pilots who swore by the Goddess of Fate and others who harked back to the old Earth religions. He preferred to base his hope on the numbers. ‘Judging by your pictures and what I can assess from the station camera feed, we’re not losing oxygen pressure or leaking fuel. Long as that stays right and the engines stay together, we’ll be fine. We’re no rich pick for a pirate either. Anyone who scans us will get an empty hold.’

  When the refuelling was done, Pietro keyed in the launch sequence. Docking clamps detached and retracted, leaving the Gallant to drop away from de Gaul and its asteroid. He pulled up a little speed and pushed them out until the proximity dial showed a safe jump distance. All the time he kept an eye on the scanner. The Asp hadn’t followed them, which meant the pilot hadn’t figured out their route, but quick hops between a few systems and it might find them again.

  ‘We’re clear,’ Gebrial announced.

  ‘Good,’ said Pietro, initiating the hyperdrive and moments later, the stars streamed once more.

  With no warning, the Gallant emerged from hyperspace, the mass reading went nuts and Pietro’s blinked in surprise.

  ‘Space! What is that?’ Gebrial shrieked.

  For a moment, he thought the jump calculations had gone wrong and they’d arrived in the atmosphere above a city, but then realised what he was looking at.

  In front of them, was a spaceship.

  A spaceship so large, it blotted out everything else.

  ‘We’re too close!’ Pietro shouted. His fingers flew across the controls and the Gallant lurched to a stop above the behemoth. He saw lights, corridors and movement. Huge engines, running on minimal thrust to maintain position, vast arrays of sensor equipment and large weapon batteries. The military grade cannons would shred their Cobra with one blast. Likely more people lived and worked on there than in the entire system they’d come from.

  Not a Federal ship, Pietro was certain, he’d recognise their cruisers immediately; nor Imperial, far too blocky and bulked.

  ‘What do we do?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Pietro said. ‘They must have seen us, but we can’t respond to them. Our communications don’t work.’

  Gebrial’s face went white. ‘Will they destroy us?’

  The scanner pinged three times and several angular ships emerged from a launch corridor to the right. Eagle-class fighters! Even without damage, the Gallant would stand no chance against them. ‘We’re about to find out,’ he said.

  Chapter 16: The Game Changer

  ‘No response to hails, sir.’

  On the bridge of the Furnace, the thin figure of Admiral Bryce Jander frowned and stared at the viewscreen and the Cobra Mark III that had appeared from hyperspace. ‘Launch the alert patrol,’ he said.

  ‘Analysis profile shows a fair amount of hull damage,’ Aimes, the lieutenant at the scanner noted. ‘Could be she’s a derelict?’

  ‘And managed a hyperspace jump?’ From his vantage point at the command lectern, Jander raised an eyebrow. ‘Unlikely. Get the ident code and registration verified, quickly.’

  He had good reason to demand urgency. The flagship of the battle group, the Furnace was an old Federal deep space exploration vessel, recaptured and recommissioned after the system’s revolt in 3248. They were a long way from their home port and despite their compliment of fighters and escort vessels, Jander had no wish to attract undue interest. Ostensibly, they were under a corporate commission to oversee mining contracts and Quator was just another stop to assess resource potential. ‘Get Mister Ferris up here, now.’

  ‘Yes Admiral,’ Aimes replied and left his post, hurrying away towards the sleeping quarters. A junior officer slid into his chair.

  ‘Comms with the alert team as soon as they’re clear,’ Jander instructed. ‘Bring up a weapon battery and lock on to the ship.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘You wanted to see me Admiral?’

  Jander turned to find Ferris, executive consultant from Wreaken Construction and Mining three steps away, pale blue eyes, clean shaven, pressed suit and polite deferential demeanour the same as always. Slippery bastard, he thought.

  ‘Mister Ferris, what’s your analysis of our new friend?’

  Ferris’ gaze flicked to the screen and back to Jander’s. ‘If it’s an intended snoop on us, it’s been poorly executed. Hyperspace arrival so close suggests damage to their navigation or an attempt at getting into our scan shadow. The former is possible, given the state of the ship, the latter, extremely difficult to try and a Cobra’s too big a craft for it.’

  ‘You think an accident then?’

  ‘Yes, I’d say so. What would they hope to gain anyway?’

  ‘Patrol online sir,’ the ensign at the comms station reported.

  ‘Open a channel,’ Jander ordered. ‘Eagle one, status of target?’

  ‘Damaged and unresponsive to radio sir,’ was the radioed reply heard by everyone on the bridge. ‘She’s braked and holding her distance.’

  ‘Maintain that and get a clear eyeball on them,’ Jander said. ‘We’ll stay here until we find out more.’

  * * *

  ‘That’s a really big ship.’

  Pietro frowned at the obvious, but Gebrial just stared at the screen. ‘It’s like a lot of smaller ships all jammed together.’

  ‘Likely an Independent navy vessel of some sort,’ Pietro said. ‘I wonder what they’re doing out here?’

  ‘What’re we going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘Stay put,’ Pietro replied. ‘We run, they chase. We move in, they shoot.’

  ‘Forever?’

  ‘No, not forever, we need to talk to them, somehow.’ He stood up from the pilot’s chair and moved across to the shattered viewscreen, He grabbed the frame in both hands and pulled. With two tries, the unit came apart. Underneath, the circuit boards were black and scorched. Not much of use here, he thought. He turned to Gebrial. ‘Any ideas?’

  The girl screwed her face up. ‘How do dataslates work?’ she asked.

  ‘The ship connects to the networks established in-system through our long-range broadcast antenna,’ Pietro explained. ‘Connections inside the ship are via the network running in here.’

  ‘Can’t we just connect to the outside?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘The distances are too big,’ Pietro said. ‘Even though that ship is almost on top of us, it’s still a few hundred metres away.’

  Gebrial pointed at the approaching fighters. ‘But those ships aren’t,’ she said.

  Pietro smiled. ‘Good point,’ he said and keyed up the Gallant’s internal network settings. ‘Let�
��s try something ...’

  * * *

  ‘Registration verified sir, Federal vessel, belonging to Pietro Devander of Darahk.’ Aimes leaned towards scrolling text. ‘Says he died in Liabefa two days ago.’

  ‘So, either he got away and limped here or we have an imposter,’ Jander concluded. He walked over to the lieutenant’s screen and read it for himself. ‘Interesting, what’s the cargo?’

  ‘No cargo sir, three life signs and a small trace of additional bio-matter,’ Aimes said. ‘Could be meat products.’

  ‘Ship scan complete? Nothing shielded?’

  ‘Verified and doubled checked, Admiral.’

  ‘Sir, we’re getting a relay hack on the transponder from the alert patrol,’ the ensign at the communications post said.

  Jander looked up and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Someone from that Cobra is trying to access the internal network on Eagle One. They’re using old Federation codes, so the computer is rejecting the query.’

  ‘May be trying to communicate?’ Ferris suggested.

  ‘May also be a virus bomb,’ Jander replied, but hesitated. ‘Ensign, can you isolate their access?’

  ‘I think so sir.’

  ‘Okay, let them in and open a direct message window. Let’s see what this is about. Eagle One?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘First sign of trouble you fire, understood?’

  ‘Understood.’

  * * *

  ‘Yes, we’re in!’ Pietro crowed, but his joy faded immediately as a white box appeared on the script. ‘And they know we’re in. Well, at least I don’t need to get their attention.’

  Unidentified pilot, you have attempted to access a secure system. We have locked down your request to this window and screen. Please respond and make clear your intentions.

  My name is Pietro Devander, I’m Commander of the Gallant. My ship has lost communication access, so I’m trying to contact you in the only way I can.

  The screen remained blank for several moments, before a reply began to appear.

  Hold your position Devander. We are sending a retrieval team to bring you in.

  Pietro chewed his lip. ‘I guess we’ve no choice,’ he said, ‘going to make explanations difficult.’

  ‘Can’t we just jump?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘Not this close to their ship,’ Pietro replied. ‘We shouldn’t have arrived here, which means something’s wrong with the navigation plot, probably because it’s not receiving updates.’

  One of the fighters edged closer towards them and another ship left the carrier’s launch lane. It was a transport of some sort, far less graceful than the Eagles. As it neared, two docking arms were extended and these grabbed hold of the Gallant close to the roof airlock port.

  ‘Are they coming aboard?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘Either that or they’ll tow us in,’ Pietro replied.What am I going to say about the body in the hold? ‘We need to be ready.’

  * * *

  ‘Seals secure, Admiral.’

  Jander nodded and waved for the boarding team to continue. The ensign murmured a confirmation into the comms link and turned around in his chair. ‘Just a damaged ship I guess, sir.’

  ‘All the same, keep them at a distance,’ Jander said, ‘and query their destination.’

  The young man nodded, turned back and typed a query on the keyboard. ‘They’re heading for Lave, sir.’

  Lave? Jander frowned. ‘That system on our list?’

  ‘No sir,’ Aimes replied.

  Jander turned to Ferris. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Lave is problematic,’ Ferris explained. ‘The government is particularly entrenched. They have some Imperial trade ties as well. We thought it best to avoid making overt contact. Better to stick to the regions we can offer tangible benefit.’

  ‘Like Quator?’

  ‘Yes, a much more viable choice, the people will welcome the order we bring and won’t care what resources we find.’

  ‘What’s the mineral assessment for Lave?’ Jander asked.

  ‘About a hundred times this system, sir.’ Aimes replied.

  ‘Flag it and monitor comms traffic,’ Jander said and looked Ferris in the eye. ‘Sometimes governments change.’

  Ferris laughed nervously. ‘Well, good luck. I doubt this one is going anywhere.’

  * * *

  The docking panel drew back and Pietro found himself face to face with a green uniformed trooper, brandishing a stocky firearm. ‘You Devander?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Gebrial, my ... friend ...’

  The trooper swung his legs down and activated his boot magnets. He dropped onto the Gallant’s deck in the cramped corridor, shouldered his weapon and thrust out a hand.

  ‘Corporal Kullen,’ he said. ‘They sent me up to talk to you about what you’ve seen and to assess the problems with your ship.’

  ‘Kind of you,’ Pietro replied.

  ‘Normally we’d tow you in, but the admiral wants you to stay onboard,’ Kullen glanced around. ‘If you can show me the navigation console, I should be able to sort some repairs to get you out of here.’

  ‘Might take a little longer than planned,’ Pietro said. ‘We jumped at maximum range.’

  ‘You’re out of fuel?’ Kullen smiled. ‘Well, that’s one thing we have plenty of.’

  Pietro frowned. ‘Don’t get me wrong, this is all very generous but—’

  ‘You’re wondering what the catch is?’ Kullen nodded. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Wouldn’t anyone?’

  ‘Quator doesn’t get a lot of visitors, which is why we’re here. The admiral would rather you didn’t talk about it,’ he glanced at them both. ‘In exchange, we’ll repair the ship to get you moving and your fuel’s sorted, provided you can pay?’

  ‘We can pay,’ Pietro said.

  ‘Good job you did find us,’ Kullen said. ‘Quator doesn’t have much in the way of docking and trade. Where were you going to stop?’

  ‘We weren’t,’ Pietro said carefully. ‘We were meeting a friend here.’

  Kullen eyed him. ‘Well that’s your business, but don’t mention us.’

  * * *

  An hour later, Kullen had repaired the Gallant’s navigation system and refuelled the hyperdrive engines. Now he sat in the co-pilot’s chair on the bridge with Pietro. ‘Where’s your friend?’ he asked.

  ‘Who? Gebrial?’

  ‘No, our scan showed three on board. Where’s the other person?’

  ‘Injured in the attack,’ Pietro replied truthfully. ‘Gebrial’s with him in the cabin.’

  ‘Ordinarily I’d suggest our people take a look,’ Kullen said, ‘but, the admiral’s keen for you to be gone.’

  ‘I understand,’ Pietro said. ‘Notice me asking no questions.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve all got our own problems,’ Kullen replied. ‘Do we need to worry about who ambushed you?’

  Pietro smiled. ‘In terms of firepower? No. In terms of us being followed, I doubt it. I think we lost them when we jumped.’

  Kullen nodded. ‘Okay and what’s the cargo?’

  ‘Cargo?’

  ‘We scanned organic matter in the hold. What are you transporting?’

  Pietro frowned. ‘Like I said, I’m not asking you questions.’

  Kullen smiled. ‘With respect, our ship’s bigger than yours and I didn’t just get free repairs.’

  ‘It’s a funeral,’ Gebrial said, appearing at the cockpit door. ‘Pietro’s taking me home and transporting my uncle’s body,’ she wiped her eyes. ‘It’s not something I like to talk about.’

  Kullen stared at her for several moments, but then shrugged apologetically. ‘Okay, I’ll take that back to the admiral. If I don’t ask, they’ll want to know why.’

  ‘We understand,’ Pietro said. ‘Are we done?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Kullen got up. ‘Once you’re undocked, pull out to a safe distance. The alert patrol will sha
dow you until you’re clear. Hope you have a safer trip this time.’

  ‘So do I,’ Pietro said and meant it.

  * * *

  ‘Welcome to Austin Town Mister Kel, this is station orbital traffic control. How can we be of assistance?’

  ‘Landing clearance,’ Heldaben Kel replied tersely. The physician had been right, his voice had come back.

  ‘Of course, Mister Kel. What’s your business with us today?’

  ‘An already arranged appointment,’ Kel said and shut off the transmission. Small corporate stations were always the same. He knew the minute he declared any kind of open itinerary, the OTC operator would offer him hundreds of ‘opportunities’, when in reality all he wanted was to dock, refuel and leave.

  The Sidewinder held up and with no sign of pursuit after two stops, he’d begun to acclimatise. The cloying smell of Miolan smokeweed remained a minor irritation, but gave the ship character. He’d found the controls surprisingly tuned and responsive; certainly better than the Adder he’d been left in by the Feds.

  As he got close, the station’s autodocking system locked on and began its work to match rotation and speed. Kel had been around space long enough to harbour an instant distrust of automates that took the control out of his hands, but he knew those were the rules and in some stations, any attempt to override brought a lethal response; easy to justify as ‘jeopardising station safety’.

  A thought occurred to him and he keyed up the comms again. ‘Actually OTC, something you can do for me, I’d like a secure direct message feed established as soon as I’m in range.’

  ‘Of course Mister Kel, if you’re looking to contact any particular service, may I suggest—’

  ‘No, just the feed OTC, thanks.’

  Whilst ships received system information the minute they dropped out of hyperspace, sending and receiving secure personal messages was trickier. It didn’t matter too much to some corporate lounge lizard on a cruise liner that his data access was monitored and filtered by a variety of agencies, but it mattered to Kel. Likely they’re not organised enough to pick out one set of random chatter in a whole system, but why take the chance?