[05] Elite: Reclamation (41 page)

‘Six kilometres.’

One of the crew looked around as more targets appeared on the scanner.

‘Domina, we have multiple targets exiting hyperspace. Identities are Federation!’

‘The blockade arrives,’ Dalk said, tapping his fingers on the arm of Octavia’s chair. ‘Time is of the essence …’

They could all see the ships, a neat arrangement of star like points arrayed in a tidy delta formation. One was particularly bright. Hassan saw the scanner information scrolling up a nearby holofac … a Farragut class battlecruiser! There was no way they would get out from under the guns of something that big if it got into range.

Dalk saw Octavia was thinking it through rapidly, clearly coming to a similar conclusion.

Need me now, do you?

She gestured to Dalk. ‘Do what he says. Hold our position!’ She looked at him. ‘No games, Dalk.’

Dalk grinned. ‘No games. Give me the comm.’

‘Five kilometres,’ Hassan breathed. ‘Talk about cutting it fine.’

Dalk stared at the now stationary bulk of
Hiram’s Anchorage
for a long moment before activating the wideband transmitter.

‘
Hiram’s Anchorage,
this is Patron Dalk Torgen, erstwhile of Chione, servant to Senator Algreb Loren. As you can hear, I am aboard the
Retribution
. You will also have noticed the arrival of a Federation task force. They intend to blockade this system. If you wish the Empire to come to your assistance in your fight to reclaim this system ...’ Dalk paused for a moment, ‘I suggest you lower your shields and allow us to dock.’

There was silence from the other end of the comm link.

‘Patron Dalk Torgen?’ someone stuttered amidst a crackle of static.

‘Impedance growing on all channels,’ one of the bridge crew called. ‘They’re jamming the comms.’

‘
Hiram’s Anchorage
,’ Dalk continued. ‘I will assist you in restoring Lady Kahina to her home and Chione to the Empire. Let me aboard before the Federation dogs arrive and destroy us all.’

More lights flickered across the scanners. Hassan watched the bridge crew react in growing alarm.

More target locks.

‘Fighters inbound,’ he whispered to Dalk. ‘We’ve got about three minutes.’

Octavia gestured to her crew. ‘Spool up the hyperdrive, this isn’t going to work.’

‘How … how do we know that you are Dalk?’ a tremulous voice replied, ‘and what are you doing on a Federation ship?’

‘Switch on your holofac transmitter,’ Dalk instructed.

The
Retribution’s
holofac viewer flickered and a group of dishevelled men and women could be seen clustered around a series of grim and tarnished control panels.

The slaves really did revolt and take back the station, extraordinary.

Dalk flipped a control for the holofac feed. His image was transmitted to the space station.

‘You recognise me?’ Dalk said.

The group nodded in unison.

‘Now I’m guessing that none of you have much experience in repelling a Federation task force.’ Dalk spoke forcefully and powerfully. ‘In minutes they will deploy a highly trained Elite fighting unit. If they succeed in entering orbit space they will board the station, slaughter everyone on board, commandeer the station and then decimate our home. Imperial reinforcements are on their way, but have yet to arrive. We must hold the line until that time. Lower your shields, allow me to board and let me help you restore our world to its rightful owner – Lady Kahina, daughter of Algreb.’

The group looked at each other; faint snatches of whispers could be heard passing between them, their words unintelligible.

The wideband communications system buzzed.

‘This is Federation Commissioner Tenim Neseva to all vessels and installations within the Prism system. Under Federal Statute I declare this system under interstellar martial law. All ships and installations will disarm, stand down and prepare for inspection. Any attempt to flee or undertake any hostile action will result in the application of deadly force …’

‘
Hiram’s Anchorage
– lower your shields.’ Dalk raised his voice. ‘You cannot deal with this, I can. Let me aboard!’

‘I don’t know … I just …’ The folk aboard the space station were arguing. Dalk saw one of them push the first one aside.

‘Shields are down. We’ll trust you, Patron Dalk. Help us.’

Dalk bowed.

‘At your service.’

‘They’re opening the gates,’ Hassan said, blowing out his cheeks, watching as the barricades on the primary docking bay opened outwards.

Dalk turned to Octavia and gestured to the space station ahead, with a mocking deference.

‘Your ship, Octavia.’

She raised an eyebrow at him and snapped an order at her crew.

‘Not bad, bounty hunter, not bad.’

***

‘I may not be a military expert, but it would seem the tactical situation is poor. I suggest an altercation is not in our best interests.’

Ambassador Cuthrick, flanked by his two aides and accompanied by Patrons Gerrun and Zyair, stood on the expansive bridge of the Imperial Interdictor
Atticus
. Before them, casting a bright blue glare through the vast bridge viewing windows, hung two glorious crescents, one larger than the other. The furthest was flicked with densely swirling patterns of cloud from which the occasional flicker of lightning could be seen, the closer one was calmer, with faint trails of cloud. Tiny lights could be seen shining from the darkened side.

Moments before, the Imperial fleet had arrived in the Prism system.

Situated between their position and the system were arrayed a bright multitude of tiny flicks of light, arranged around the Chione moon. The Federation fleet was already in position.

‘Tactical breakdown,’ Admiral Brice ordered, ignoring the presence of the politicians. He stood, leaning against a magnificently crafted silver handrail, arms outstretched before him and hands clasped firmly around it.

‘Sir,’ his first officer replied, ‘we have the Federation battlecruiser
Xajorkith
, two destroyers, eight frigates and sixteen corvettes. All ships have shields engaged and weapons deployed. Braces of fighter-class vessels are patrolling the system. Capital-class ships are deployed between us and orbit space of the Chione moon. We’re outgunned, sir.’

‘We’re too late,’ Cuthrick observed. ‘Let me negotiate with my counterpart and we can …’

Cuthrick saw Brice purse his lips, but he continued to ignore the ambassador.

‘You forget the defences of the mining facility,’ Brice said, talking directly to his first officer.

‘Sir?’

‘We manoeuvre the Federation dogs back against it. They’ll be caught in the crossfire and forced to defend two flanks.’

His first officer considered the tactic. ‘We’ll have to come in at flank speed in a highly elliptical path in order to achieve that. The station is in a low orbit. It will require some tight co-ordination.’

Brice looked at him. ‘I’m sure you’re more than up to the task.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Plot the course, Commander.’

Cuthrick tried again. ‘Admiral, I really must protest …’

‘Must you, Ambassador?’ Brice turned slowly to face him.

‘At least let me try to defuse the situation. A military confrontation will cause nothing but death and destruction not only to both fleets but to the moon itself.’

‘The Federation have illegally invaded this system, disregarded our sovereignty and blockaded one of our own installations – and you want to negotiate?’

‘They don’t want a war.’ Cuthrick’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh. ‘No sane man does.’

Cuthrick studied the Admiral’s face, it was haughty, dismissive, arrogant and self-assured.

‘But they’ve started one – and I have my orders.’

Brice turned back and resumed his stance against the handrail, overlooking the frenetic activity across the bridge. ‘Bring all weapons to bear, secure habitation zones and prep for zero-gravity. All decks, red alert.’

Cuthrick saw Zyair wince as a harsh klaxon blared across the bridge. The interior lighting faded to a dim background level.

‘Entirely safe,’ Zyair muttered to Gerrun. ‘That’s what you said about space travel. Routine! Not in the least bit arduous. Can I presume you didn’t have a military firefight in mind when you convinced me to come on this ridiculous errand?’

‘My dear friend, I can only apologise,’ Gerrun replied. ‘Events have … rather overtaken me.’

‘Have you at least been in a battle?’

‘On rare occasions,’ Gerrun answered.

‘What should I expect?’

‘Initially? Rather unpleasant nausea, a lot of shouting, light, noise and confusion. If things go well, a little vibration, a lurch here and there …’

‘And if things don’t go well?’

Gerrun smiled. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that.’

‘But that young fool said we were out-gunned. If we’re overwhelmed …’

‘We will have little time to concern ourselves with the outcome.’ Cuthrick added, with a deep sigh. ‘The void is rather harsh. Death will be swift.’

‘Death? What about escape pods and whatnot? Surely …’

‘And you’ve received training on how to use one, have you?’ Gerrun said, with a faint tone of amusement. ‘You can navigate successfully to a nearby starport?’

‘Can’t you?’

‘Alas, no.’

Zyair’s mouth dropped open.

‘Is there nothing we can do?’

Gerrun gestured expansively with a shrug.

Cuthrick considered the matter. ‘Perhaps we could beseech a random selection of deities for a miracle.’

***

A brief stopover for repairs, a short cut through a dark system and the
Bella Principessa
materialised in the Prism system. Kahina caught her breath as the bright light from the Prism star itself burst into the cockpit of the Cobra.

So close to the sun!

Most of the heat was filtered out, but she could still feel the radiance on her face. Luko was studying the cockpit instrumentation intently. He’d been doing something unusual with the hyperdrive mechanism on the final jump; whatever it was, it involved a lot of manual computations that had kept one of the on-board computers busy for several minutes.

‘Not bad, eh?’ he said, looking across at her for approval.

‘What did you do?’

‘Jumped the old fashioned way,’ he replied. ‘Long ago they called it “faraway”, you work it all out by hand. Too easy now, all automatic, lost all the charm.’

‘So why bother?’

‘We control precisely where we arrive. See? We can sneak up to your little moon. Come in from the sun and no one notice us.’

The
Bella Principessa
was hurtling onwards, the sun falling behind them, its glare fading away beyond the edge of the cockpit windows. As they rounded its limb they could see a bright planet ahead. Even from this distance it was clear it had rings. Kahina remembered its name; Mestra, the first planet. Bright against the blackness shone the three other stars that made up the Prism system; bright white, fierce blue and a firey red. A nursery rhyme she remembered hearing the children at the palace chant came suddenly to mind, unbidden:

Prism owns the day so bright,

Diamond’s white will guard the night,

Sapphire’s blue, a royal hue,

Ruby’s red is warm and true.

Above and to the right they could see another bright pair of dots. A planet and its moon. Daedalion and Chione. Her heart thumped in her chest.

Home.

The sight of those bright sparks in the darkness drew a short gasp from her. A wave of relief mixed with anticipation and determination washed across her. It was hers, taken from her.

Not long now and it will be mine again.

Luko adjusted the course towards the planet and the moon, and then shut down the drives.

‘We coast from here, signorina …’

The scanner pinged at them and a series of yellow markers appeared across the forward section of the display.

‘… or maybe not.’

‘What is it?’ Kahina asked, seeing his puzzled frown as he rapidly assessed the situation.

‘Ships. Molto ships!’

***

More sounds echoed through the bridge of the Imperial battleship. Cuthrick, Zyair and Gerrun looked up as the first officer returned.

‘Sir.’

The three Imperials watched closely as Brice acknowledged him. ‘Course ready?’

‘Still plotting, sir. Something else. We have a new contact, azimuth seventy-two, altitude negative eight. It’s coming in from the sun. Target designated as Beta One.’

‘What is it?’

‘Looks like a small ship, sir. Possibly civilian. Impossible to gauge from here. It’s heading in system though, straight towards the Chione moon. Active scanners only, looks like it’s coasting.’

They saw Brice narrow his eyes. ‘Why would a civilian vessel attempt to run a Federation blockade …’ Brice looked up. ‘Damnation. It’s her. Plot an intercept course and deploy a fighter phalanx! I want that ship intercepted, defended and escorted. Double time!’

Gerrun leant over to Zyair.

‘Remarkably quick, these deities, wouldn’t you say?’

***

Kahina leaned across, looking at the display. It was covered in yellow markers now. As she watched, the wideband comms crackled into life.

‘This is Federation Commissioner Tenim Neseva to all vessels and installations within the Prism system. Under Federal Statute I declare this system under interstellar martial law. All ships and installations will disarm, stand down and prepare for inspection. Any attempt to flee or undertake any hostile action will result in the application of deadly force.’

‘The Federation is already here.’ Kahina said in dismay. ‘You’ve got to get me to the station. Quickly.’

‘Signorina, that is a Federation task force. If we fire the drives they will detect us, if they haven’t already.’

More markers appeared on the scanner. Pinpoints flashed in the darkness, more ships appearing from hyperspace. Luko aimed the passive scanners onto them.