Denis Jež looked up from his book when the ship-wide alert chimed. They were already two months overdue for Jessica and Kali-ma to return and send them home, but he understood why, from the regular packets First Lord had sent.
He was just mad the woman had gone off and had a major adventure without him.
“All hands, this is Nina Vanek aboard Auberon. I have the flag,” her voice came calmly through the speakers. “Possible hostile insertion detected. All hands to battle stations.”
Denis was off his bunk, into his shoes, and out the hatch in two seconds. It wasn’t his watch right now, so he was in his quarters, rather than his day office, but this Star Controller had been well-thought out when she was designed. He was on the bridge in less than thirty seconds.
Nina bounced out of the command station as soon as she was sure it was him and took up the Tactical boards. Fleet Centurion Whughy would be down on the Flag Bridge. Tamara Strnad would normally be bringing up tactical as his First Officer, but she was over on their newest ship, playing command centurion for them. Below, Flight Deck was prepared to fire three alert fighters, and probably a GunShip, into space as soon as they were needed.
“Status?” Denis called.
Around him, the bridge had fallen into that calm poise that told him everyone was ready for battle. There had only been a few of those over the last year. Nobody in this entire sector was big enough to challenge a Star Controller, let alone one with her escort team in close contact.
Still, there were always dumbass pirates out there. Fewer today, but it was like a disease, and the vaccine was slow to act.
“One vessel just came out of jump, Command Centurion,” Nina replied, cycling her boards and bringing up firing solutions. “Launched two probes immediately, and she was running hot to begin with. Passive scan reads her as a 4-ring mothership, and none are scheduled to arrive this week.”
“Nav, plot a course to intercept, but wait for the command,” Denis commanded. “All weapon stations stand by to engage.”
After a year, he had a feel for the Fleet Centurion down in Jessica’s chair. She would have expected him to begin moving immediately, friend or foe. Whughy wanted to give the order himself.
Denis would be glad to have Jessica back.
“Bridge, this is Whughy, I have the flag,” the man’s voice came through. “Do we have positive ID?”
Spit and polish. By the numbers. None of the elegant curves compared to Jessica’s thinking. She would have used anything as an excuse to keep the crew sharp, not that Arott Whughy had let them get dull.
Senior Centurion Daniel Giroux had been with Denis for his entire professional career, always serving on a vessel named Auberon, first the Strike Carrier, and now the Star Controller. And he had refused the promotion that would have made him a command centurion on his own scout or survey vessel. That would have taken him away from the center of things.
Another one infected by Tomas Kigali’s warrior ethos.
But he was among the best at what he did, and Denis was happy to still have him, even if it had required the First Lord to pull a few strings. The man had apparently done it to keep this crew together, when normally officers would have cycled in and out much more frequently.
“Stand by, Flag,” Giroux said, face down over a readout. “Confirm mothership. Confirm 4-ring mass. Confirm Kali-ma on engine signature, but she’s had some work done somewhere in dry-dock since last we met.”
Denis laughed quietly. Nina grinned at him from across the room. They had all read the reports about the coup. Most of them felt the same jealousy at not being where Kali-ma was.
“All hands, maintain battle stations while we maneuver,” Whughy ordered over the comm. “Corynthe’s Queen has returned, aboard her flagship. All vessels stand by to acknowledge Kali-ma. Bridge, move to rendezvous. Assume they’ll want to board the orbital platform soonest.”
Only Aquitaine would greet a Queen of the Pirates with 21-gun salutes over her own capital. But it was one of the reasons these people were pirates, and not civilized folks, all his efforts over the last year notwithstanding.
“Jež, this is Wiley,” a new voice broke in suddenly from the comm. An angry, exasperated one. “What the hell have you done to my station?”
Denis joined the whole bridge laughing before he signaled everyone to silence and replied.
“We have nearly a thousand marines and a heavy construction Ala of engineers available, Wiley,” Denis replied, grinning ear to ear. “So we brought the place up to Republic standards and expanded it a little. Wait until you see the new ring highway connecting the outer boroughs of Corynthe.”
Over nine hundred very bored marines, one of two battalions they normally carried, seconded to Digger Wolanski and his group of lunatic construction specialists who had replaced the other security battalion. Those folks had only gotten a taste of fun when they were unleashed on Thuringwell. Now there were schools, hospitals, water treatment facilities, and reservoirs.
And not just here. Goodwill tours to eight other planets, dropping pre-fabbed facilities or cutting new roads as a reward for being good, little, civic-minded pirates who paid their taxes on time and took care of their citizens. Plus visits to three places where they didn’t. Or hadn’t, until Arott Whughy and First Expeditionary Fleet, under direction of David Rodriguez, Regent, had brought them more firmly into compliance.
“Kali-ma, this is Whughy,” the Fleet Centurion joined the conversation. “Do you have a flag aboard?”
“Negative, Auberon,” Wiley replied. “We outran all news, including Marco Polo and the Imperial TCL accompanying us. I have dispatches for David and orders for you from First Lord.”
“Roger that, Kali-ma,” Whughy replied. “See you aboard the station shortly.”