It was only a fifteen-minute hop from the Retributor to the Starfire but Greg’s head was full of details from the meeting and he just couldn’t relax. The summary of the Starfire’s weaponry seemed meagre in the light of the Imisil commander Remosca’s revelation on the size of the Hegemony armada. Hundreds of warships among which there would be more carriers like the Baqrith-Zo, capable of fielding scores of interceptors, drones, smart missiles, a veritable cascade of war machines rushing towards them.
Greg had projected a kind of cavalier optimism mingled with anger and defiance, mainly because he did not want to face his own despair. As he sat listening to Commander Remosca laying out the bleak realities, something that Uncle Theo once said came back to him–‘A ship tied up in the harbour is safe, but is that what ships are for?’ It was a folksy little saying but its nugget of wisdom was clear. He had once told the Tygran Ash that while Darien was worth fighting for it was the people who were worth dying for.
The gathering had agreed unanimously to stand their ground. Greg just hoped that the dying part would be slow to arrive.
Now, sitting in the Retributor’s pilotless shuttle pod–a short-range craft on loan from the Roug, apparently–his thoughts turned to the situation on the planet’s surface. There had been several attempts to establish contact with the Human rebels at Tusk Mountain but all effective channels were being jammed. The source of the jamming was mainly Giant’s Shoulder, which wasn’t such a surprise now that the Legion agent and its combat droids were in control of the place. But Ash was not seeing the break in communication as an immediate crisis and wouldn’t authorise a shuttle journey to the surface. Nor would he order a bombardment of the Giant’s Shoulder defences, on the grounds that it might provoke retaliation which they could do without in the hours ahead. Greg was frustrated at these decisions but had to resign himself to them.
At last the pod reached the Starfire, the Tygran ship that had brought him from Nivyesta and which had been heavily damaged in action against the Hegemony carrier’s escort vessels. Although the hyperdrive was junk, the thrust engines had been partially repaired and some of the weapons were back online. They could move and they could fight, after a fashion.
The pod docked with one of the underside hatches, and moments later he was climbing from the pod’s weak deck gravity into a weightless airlock. It was a small, blue-lit chamber with a short ladder. The outer hatch thudded shut, sealed audibly, and the light turned red.
‘Just a few seconds, Mr Cameron, and you’ll be through.’
Sure enough, moments later Lieutenant Berg was helping him up into a cramped compartment.
‘Welcome back, Mr Cameron.’
‘Glad to be back, Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘Commander Ash clarified my position, by the way. He was very keen to point out that you are in command and that I am just a civilian adviser.’ He shrugged. ‘And that’s fine and dandy by me, really.’
Berg grinned. ‘You shouldn’t worry, Mr Cameron. I’m sure I can find you something to do, given the circumstances.’
Greg nodded as he followed Berg out and along the spine corridor. In order to fully operate the Silverlance, the former Hegemony ship, Ash had left the Starfire with little more than a skeleton crew of eleven, barely enough to cope with the necessary repairs. The Retributor’s captain, K’ang Lo, had said that he could spare some of his techs so perhaps that would solve their problems. Provided the language problem was solvable.
They had just entered the split-level bridge when the tac officer, a woman Greg didn’t recognise, turned with an excited expression.
‘Sir, I was just about to alert you–a fleet of eighteen vessels has exited hyperspace at the periphery of the system!’
‘Have they identified themselves?’ Berg said as he lowered himself into the commander’s couch.
‘Yes, they are claiming to be a Vox Humana expeditionary force sent to offer assistance to the besieged people of Darien…’
‘Go to combat-readiness,’ Berg said, and Greg could hear the high-pitched alarm from the corridor outside. ‘How have the other captains reacted?’
‘Taking the same precautions, sir. Shall I screen the ongoing exchange?’
‘Go ahead.’
Greg had resumed his old seat, at the auxiliary station left of the commander’s couch. The console’s holopanel blinked on, displaying a pair of insets showing Ash in one and a round-faced woman of mature years in the other. She had a steely gaze and a streak of black in a head of otherwise silvery hair.
‘… would be more advantageous to all concerned. I repeat, Commander, we are here to offer all and any assistance to the benefit of the Darien colony.’
‘I’m afraid that we must insist on a process of verification, Admiral Olarevic,’ said Ash. ‘We have a sensor probe in orbit around that gas giant. If you set course for it, we can easily verify your idents.’
The Vox Humana admiral gave a stiff nod. ‘Very well, Commander, we shall do as you suggest.’
Abruptly her image vanished from the screen.
‘Why is Ash having problems IDing their ship?’ Greg said.
‘He’s not,’ said Berg. ‘It’s the Imisil–they’re saying that such a generous offer of military assistance is atypical for the Vox Humana, who are usually rigorously neutral when it comes to conflicts involving Hegemony interest.’
‘So they’re here to either play some spoiler, disruptive role,’ Greg said, ‘or something’s happened to force them to actively support us because it’s in their interest. I’ve no idea what that could be but I’m pretty sure that you know more about the Vox Humana than I do.’
Berg shrugged. ‘I can’t say much, Mr Cameron, except to say that the Imisil are right about Vox H neutrality…’
‘Sir, long-range sensors are picking up energy weapon emissions from the vicinity of the outer gas giant.’
In the next moment, the face of the Vox Humana admiral reappeared on the viewport overlay, as well as in Greg’s holopanel.
‘We are under attack!’ she said. ‘Did you plan this, Commander? Did you?’
In the other inset Ash’s face was affronted yet restrained.
‘Admiral, I give you my word that we have nothing to do with this. Have you identified the attackers yet?’
‘… four… five, no six Ezgara destroyers. They did not show up on any scans but it seems that they came at us from concealments on one of the gas giant’s moons…’
Greg noticed that Berg had suddenly become more focused on the Vox Humana admiral.
‘Six destroyers,’ the Tygran muttered. ‘That’s almost two-thirds of the fleet.’
‘Why would they commit such a high proportion?’ Greg said.
Berg gave a sour smile. ‘The “why” is tied up with the “who”–only Becker would browbeat the commanderies and the Bund into backing such a plan. But even six of our ships could not prevail against eighteen Vox H vessels, so this has to be a tactical move.’ Berg shrugged. ‘I’m sure Ash can see this and has a better idea of what’s going on.’
At this point the Vox Humana admiral had turned aside to deal with urgent matters, while the channel stayed open. Then new datastreams began filling sidebar columns which unfolded into a 3D schematic of the hostile engagement.
‘That’s the feed from the probe near the gas giant,’ said Berg, who then frowned. ‘What’s it called, the gas giant?’
‘Hmm?–eh, Kronos… but listen, why would your marshal lead his ships into a fight when he’s outnumbered three to one? What kind of strategy is that?’
Berg frowned. ‘No, it’s a tactical move in support of a strategy, but what is it?… wait, did you see that? Raker, replay last sixty seconds of probe data.’
On the screens the 3D model of the vicinity of the gas giant Kronos showed the trajectory trails of various ships, with fading tags denoting weapon fire. Suddenly Berg froze the playback and zoomed in on the shadow side of one of the gas giant’s moons where a solitary tag had appeared.
‘Hyperdrive activated,’ Berg said, pointing at the tag.
Before Greg could reply, a priority message frame popped up over the playback, with Ash looking grimly out from it.
‘Attention, all vessels–it appears that we have a seventh Ezgara warship in the area. It was spotted by our probe nearly three minutes ago when it broke from cover behind one of the gas giant’s moons. It then almost immediately made a hyperspace jump–we are assuming that it was a microjump to somewhere else in the system, most probably Darien.’
Ash’s image blinked, then he spoke again.
‘Berg, we’re now on a secure channel. Who do you think is behind this?’
‘Marshal Becker, sir. Has his hallmark all over it.’
‘Yes, which means that he’s certainly on board that seventh ship. And since the other six weren’t spotted by the Imisil probe until they came out and attacked the Vox H, it’s logical to assume that they’ve been there since before the Imisil arrived.’ Ash rubbed the side of his head, as if at an ache. ‘They’ve seen all there was to see and probably listened in on our channels, so now they know who’s here and who’s planetside.’
‘Like Captain Gideon,’ said Greg. ‘He’s no’ exactly Becker’s favourite Human being.’
‘It’s possible, Mr Cameron, but it’s equally likely that he’s acting under orders. Lieutenant Berg–keep your ship at combat alert and switch your patrol pattern to semi-random. If a Tygran vessel appears do not approach or pursue, and do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Those destroyers are atmosphere-capable so it might try for a landing–again, observe and track but do not intervene. Clear?’
‘Yes, sir, but—’
‘Wait!’ Ash said, his gaze snapping to one side. ‘Now the Tygran-Ezgara ships are breaking off and making a dash for open space. They know they’re outnumbered.’
On the 3D schematic Greg could see six symbols heading away from the scene of the battle. Seconds later these symbols starting winking out as the ships jumped to hyperspace. Except for two, and when Greg looked closer he saw that the velocity values for both were falling rapidly.
‘Mr Berg, Admiral Olarevic has crucial information,’ said Ash. ‘I’m switching the channel back to convoke mode… Admiral, I am pleased that you survived the Ezgara attack.’
Greg and Berg exchanged a look but said nothing.
‘Unfortunately, two of my ships did not and I have another three so damaged they are not fit for front-line duties.’ The woman was visibly straining to keep her temper under control. ‘But I can see now that the Ezgara assault was none of your doing, in the light of the tactical overview you generously fed to us from your probe. More immediate, however, is the matter of these two Ezgara ships which stayed behind. Both are casting messages claiming that all or most of both crews have mutinied. One is called the Vanquisher, the other the Firebrand. However, our sensors are picking up indications of fighting aboard the latter…’
‘Do you know the name of whoever is in charge aboard the Vanquisher, Admiral?’ said Ash.
‘He calls himself Braddock,’ said Olarevic. ‘Claims that he was the security officer. Would you like me to connect you to him?’
Berg glanced at Greg wide-eyed and gave a silent shake of the head.
‘That could be very useful, Admiral,’ Ash said. ‘But I’d like to go over it with my colleagues on the other vessels first, put together a consensus on how to proceed. In the meantime we need to keep our sensor arrays active at all ranges. We still haven’t located the seventh Ezgara vessel and we cannot relax until we can be sure that it’s left the system.’
Suddenly Ash’s attention was distracted by one of his bridge crew, just as Berg’s own tac officer spoke.
‘There’s some activity at the Firebrand, sir–most of the aft life-pods are ejecting…’
On the viewport overlay the same information was being exchanged between the admiral and Ash.
‘… and we’re getting an audiocast from the Firebrand,’ Olarevic said. ‘I’ll tie you in on this channel.’
There was a moment of interference followed by a man’s voice. He sounded young, agitated and determined.
‘… repeat, this is Sub-Lieutenant Weiss, head of the Firebrand loyalty cadre. We have retaken the bridge and intend to fly this ship safely home, whatever the intentions of the enemies within and those outside. This message is going out shipwide and on local ship frequencies. No one aboard this vessel should doubt our resolve. If we are prevented from flying back home, we shall implement the self-destruct. We have all the senior officer command keys and are fully prepared to use them. That is all.’
‘What’s a loyalty cadre?’ Greg said to Berg.
‘I remember Becker proposing such a thing a year ago,’ Berg said. ‘At the time the Bund rejected it out of hand, but now… perhaps he believes he no longer needs their approval. Ah, the Firebrand’s shields have just gone up!’
They were now getting a visual feed from the Vox Humana flagship. The Imisil probe schematic showed that the two contested vessels were nearly 2,000 kiloms apart but the split-screen visual showed them both. They were of identical design, a bulky boxy stern, a tapering midsection and a wider forward section containing most of the heavy offence capability. The image subtitled ‘Firebrand’ possessed a glowing halo corresponding to that vessel’s shield defences. A number of small specks, lifepods, were radiating out from it, each tagged with a symbol and a number.
Berg had been in a muttered exchange with Ash but then turned to Greg.
‘The Imisil probe has been picking up some shipboard communications for the last few minutes–doesn’t sound promising.’ He prodded a few holopanel keys and Greg’s own console began playing a conversation.
‘… won’t speak to you!–you’ve shown that you have nothing to say that we wish to hear!’
‘Look, have we not ceased firing and pulled back from your corridors? If you want this ship to go anywhere you’ll need our cooperation and we too are desperate to get away from here. Please, let me speak with Weiss…’
In a low voice Greg said, ‘Is this happening in realtime?’
Berg nodded as a new voice came over the audio link.
‘This is Weiss–what do you wish to say?’
‘We propose a bargain–if we help you get the ship away you agree to put us off at a neutral world before heading for Tygra.’
‘I understand. Here is my counter-proposal–you and all working with you shall agree to enter lockdown confinement prior to our departure for Tygra, where you will be tried for the crime of mutiny.’
‘No, Weiss, that is unacceptable and foolish given that we surround you while our ship is likewise surrounded.’
‘I will not sully my honour and the honour of the Black Sun Commandery. As Nightwalkers I would not expect you to grasp these essentials.’
‘You are deaf to the voice of change–things cannot go on the way they have under Becker. Have you even seen the Rawlins testament?’
‘I have seen it and it is a pack of stinking lies from start to finish. Genocide against the Zshahil? It’s a vile slur on our ancestors and our collective honour, which seems to hold little meaning for the likes of you.’
‘I weary of this. Blab and whine about honour all you like, but we’re coming for you!’
‘Do not test me, Nightwalker… wait, what’s that?… through the ceiling?… so you think I’m bluffing, do you? Then prepare to be devoured by the fire…’
Seconds later there was a burst of static and the link went dead. At the same time, on the visual feed a series of explosions ripped apart the forward section of the Firebrand. This was followed by fiery eruptions along the midsection and several minor ones on the underside. These were all eclipsed when the entire stern burst apart in a cataclysmic blast of destruction, one last violent blaze of energies as the drive fields tried to simultaneously create and consume the quanta of space-time…
On another screen, Ash and the Vox H admiral were discussing the retrieval of the Firebrand’s pods and what to do with the other ship, the Vanquisher. But Greg was thinking over what he’d heard during that final, fateful exchange, especially the bit about a testament. When he mentioned it to Berg, the man seemed semi-distracted as if caught up in a stream of his own thoughts.
‘There is… something that it may refer to,’ Berg said. ‘But I’d rather let Ash or the captain explain it for you.’
‘Contact,’ said the tac officer suddenly. ‘Ship matching Tygran destroyer configuration just exited hyperspace 48,680 kiloms from Darien with high-vee trajectory. Extrapolation suggests that vessel is on course for atmospheric re-entry.’
‘Smart flying,’ Berg said, sitting back in the couch.
‘And you’re just going to let him go ahead and land,’ Greg said. ‘On my world.’
‘You were here when Commander Ash gave his very precise instructions, Mr Cameron…’
‘Aye, but…’
‘And we know that Tygran destroyers considerably outgun scout vessels like the Starfire…’
‘Well, aye, but…’
‘But, Mr Cameron, my orders did not specifically restrict any efforts to gather additional data–Sub-Lieutenant Bains, how many sensor probes do we have?’
‘Twelve short-range, eight long-range, sir,’ said the tac officer.
‘Prep eight of the short-range and configure them for pursuit,’ Berg said. ‘Launch them in sequence to intercept that destroyer’s projected re-entry path at half-kilometre intervals.’
‘Probes configured, sir… probes launched…’
In almost the next breath a frame popped open on the main viewport. It was Ash.
‘Lieutenant Berg, I thought I’d made myself clear…’
‘Sensor probes, sir, gathering more data on their atmospheric capabilities.’
‘Really? Their trajectories seem somewhat aggressive, almost as if they’re on course to collide with Becker’s ship!’ Then his attention switched to Greg. ‘Mr Cameron, wild plans like these undermine my authority.’
‘Had nothing to do with this one, Commander. Almost wish I did, though. Clever…’
Ash frowned. ‘Clever? How?’
‘Well, if this guy Becker is as distrusting and paranoid as everyone seems to think, then he’s gonna look at those incoming probes, think the worst, and…’
‘Becker’s ship is altering its descent path, sir,’ said the tac officer, Bains. ‘Banking to starboard… executing a turn of 163 degrees…’
Greg gave Berg a smiling nod. Berg raised an acknowledging eyebrow.
‘So Becker, y’see, now has to pass over the continental landmass to reach the colony rather than coming from the sea,’ Greg said. ‘Should take him over areas dominated by them Spiralists with their shoulder-mounted ground-to-air launchers.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe one’ll get lucky, who knows, eh?’
‘A long shot, Mr Cameron.’
‘Aye, but God loves a trier, Mr Ash.’
‘Contact,’ said Bains. ‘Multiple contacts at outer long range… sir, I’m picking up Imisil idents.’
‘But their fleet’s not due for hours,’ said Berg.
Ash was getting similar data on his own bridge but suddenly his face turned grim and his channel went dead.
‘What’s wrong?’ Greg said.
Berg was studying his own holoconsole, worry plain in his features.
‘Oh, it’s the Imisil all right,’ he said. ‘But we’re only picking up four ships.’
‘Four?’ Greg said. ‘Out of the original sixty that set out…’ He shook his head, then chuckled quietly.
‘You see a humorous side to this?’ Berg said, annoyed.
‘Not so much, but I remember what my Uncle Theo said about the time he was expecting reinforcements and got rather less than he hoped. He turned to his men and said, “All it mean, boys, is more medals for the rest of us, eh?” ’