Anarchate Vigilante (Vigilante Series 4) (12 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Running Leader, newly appointed Sector Captain of what remained of Sector 14’s battleglobe fleet, stood on his six legs and reviewed the status of his command battleglobe, the
Defiant II
. His trip out from Scutum-Crux Arm to the naval base at Orion M47 nebula, in Orion Arm, had been time-consuming. But adequate for him to study the combat records of his predecessor Yorkel, and the intelligence records of one Commander Chai of the Intel Base that formerly lay near the Cloud of Warning, in Perseus Arm. He read the datapad records in normal yellow light, while his UV and IR vision paid attention to the movements of his Bridge crew as they activated the power, ecofield and combat systems of a Nova-class battleglobe that held the mass of a small asteroid in its twelve
nipad
-wide shell. As a member of the Dolmat species, an Ancient lineage long respected in the galaxy for their group allegiance, Running Leader knew he did not have to strike a crew member with his spike-tail, or order them to polish the 30 nails on his six feet. While his armored bulk might be useful in a crowded hallway on the way to the Communal Food Hall, no Dolmat relied on physical force to manage other beings. His four-lobbed brain was sufficient for that.

“
Sector Captain,” called Malel, the Orko quadruped who now served as his Executive Officer. “An urgent tachmessage has come in from Courier
Swift Tail
, on duty at CC3214. Site of the Anarchate admin headquarters for this part of Sector 14.”

Running Leader lowe
red his mass onto the flat restbench that lay under his belly, choosing to show calmness before his new crew and those veteran crew who had well served Sector Captain Yorkel. The Brokeet’s battles with the Human biped when the biped destroyed the naval bases at 18 Scorpii and Vela CC8733 had been instructive. Upon his arrival at the CC32415 Orion base he had brought in Malel, Chief Lark of Tactical Weapons and a half dozen other veterans of Yorkel’s flagship
Defiant
. While most of those vets were Brokeet arthropods like Yorkel himself, a few were heavy gravity species like the Orko Malel and his Chief Engineer Herd Defense, a Dolmat ally ever since his graduation from the Naval Academy at CC7843 in the Owl M97 cluster. A place which the Human had also destroyed.

“The report from Captain Illustrious of
Swift Tail
, is it in holo and in spoken Belizel?” Running Leader croaked to Malel.

“Yes,
Sector Captain. Do you wish it transferred to your station?”

“Yes,” he said in a relaxed tone. “But also feed the report to a side holo pedestal so the rest of the Bridge can hear the news
about our Human adversary.”

Malel hooted surprise. “How did you know it was about—
”

“System 3214 is one of the locations that hosts my
Nova Blast unit, ship
Swift Tail
. As you should recall from my staff orientation last week,” Running Leader said in mild admonition.

“Yes,
Sector Captain. The holo report is activated in the left forward holo pedestal and on your left command pod,” Malel hooted in formal Belizel.

Running Leader brace
d his forearms against the restbench and supported his wide chin on his clasped chesthands. He focused on the left forward holosphere, as did several Bridge personnel, even as they prepared his ship for departure from the Orion protoplanetary disk that so far lacked a sun.

The shape of the Mican Captain Illustrious took form in the holo, his two dirty brown wings clasped tight against his muscled back as his
furry face stared out at them

“
Sector Captain Running Leader, your Nova Blast trap worked well against the eight ships led by the Human Matthew Raven’s-Wing Dragoneaux in his attack on our admin base. There were three battleglobes and four Courier ships in orbit above planet three,” the Mican growled in harsh Belizel. “As before, the Human’s Dreadnought ships arrived well into the system by Translation, just a few lightseconds out from planet Stony, on a course aimed inward toward the system’s star. Its speed was three-fourths lightspeed and our defense units were unable to damage the T’Chak ships due to their Alcubierre field shielding. In five seconds the planet was reduced to a black hole while all three battleglobes were vaporized by multiple antimatter beam strikes.” Illustrious paused, looked aside as his Brokeet Navigator input something on a holopanel, then focused back on his report. “Two of the Couriers spun up their deut-li stardrives upon detection of the Human’s gravity wave pulses and headed for the local star. They increased their speed to one-tenth light by use of antimatter added to their exhaust. Still, the Human’s ships quickly overtook them but held their fire, as if the starward vector was a puzzle for Dragoneaux. My ship received a tachlink feed of these actions, in addition to what our own tachRemotes reported to us in real time. We activated the Bethe Inducer when the T’Chak ships came near the Translation Null Zone. We Translated out of the system as soon as we saw the star’s corona begin to bulge outward.”

Running Leader rested on his bench, wondering when the verbose Mican would tell him whether the
Nova Blast had killed any of the T’Chak warships.

The Mican’s
three purple eyes blinked twice and his short pink tongue rasped over his canines. “Sixty
nitas
later we returned and recovered the Observer Globe that had been placed in the outer system to record the battle and the Nova blast of the star.” Its wings lifted slightly. “The globe shows the eight T’Chak ships had dropped their Alcubierre shields and taken on their reptile form during the chase. But the grey haze of Translation surrounded each ship before they entered the Null Zone where Translation is impossible. The Human renegade and his ships escaped destruction. However, the Nova Blast tactic was clearly a surprise to the Human and his warships.”

The image of Captain Illustrious disappeared to be replaced by the standard Anarchate icon of the galaxy crossed by a lightning bolt.

Running Leader sighed, blinked his eyes, and glanced over at Malel. “Executive Officer, lead us out of this system, along with our 39 battleglobe allies, and set course for Antares A star.” The four yellow eyes of the Orko showed surprise. “Our sector’s new Intel chief, High Commander Sytoon, says the maternal progenitor of the Human has been found on planet Working, in labor slave employment to a Mican banking merchant. Either an Intel agent or we ourselves will capture this Human and use it as a lure to trap this unpleasant biped once and for all!”

And if the lure of the biped’s progenitor did not work to draw its surrender, Running
Leader had two other tactical surprises that would be new to the soft-skinned biped named Dragoneaux. Surely one of his new tactics would work to destroy or disable this fleet of nearly invulnerable T’Chak Dreadnoughts!

Kristen
Dragoneaux focused intently on the ear bud Sound Snooper that she had bought long ago. She had learned the value of always listening to any business conversations by her Mican owner, one Masterful. Often he sought to make her feel incompetent at the few habitat tasks which she performed for the alien. Long years ago she had realized she was a ‘trophy’ item for the Mican to display at social gatherings, before its banking co-workers or in front of Anarchate petty officials. Not every rich merchant could afford the time to research the species needs of a labor slave. Or the cost of importing DL-chirality foods, vitamins and minerals needed by a former cloneslave captive. She had survived. But not by her own will. Shortly after being sold to the Mican on the auction block of the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops, she’d been taken away with only a glimpse of daughter Charlotte. It was then she decided to die. After their arrival in Antares A system, she stopped eating and drinking. It was her penance for surviving the death of her husband Benoit and her three small daughters. But her owner Masterful hooked her up to an IV machine, keeping her alive on liquid food, until she told it she would resume eating. He’d released her from inertial field confinement and assigned her to do simple habitat maintenance.

Over the last fifteen years she had sharpened her near photographic memory, taking in everything Masterful said in Belizel. She recalled every deal he made. Every underhanded trick against fellow Halicene Conglomerate co-workers. Every password code he’d spoken to the habitat’s Core computer. She had argued for a few platinum Standards as a monthly allowance for her
monthly pain meds, her clothing, new shoes and specialty vitamins she pretended were essential, like Omega Three fish oil capsules. The Standards she used to buy her Snooper ear buds. Then she’d bought a tiny Spy Eye she’d planted in the ceiling of the front room. Watching the Mican griffin-tiger conduct side deals, official work and then make investments with several off-world Aliens in the Mican native language had been her only entertainment. And source of the hope that someday, eventually, she could find a way back to Thuringia or Megil, to find who had bought her daughter Charlotte. That hope had been all that sustained her as her long, umber-red hair which Benoit had loved became grey-streaked, and her body began to feel the onset of arthritis.

One day
three months ago, while listening to a galactic tachnet broadcast that filled the background as her Spy Eye showed Masterful working on some banking accounts using his personal datapad, had come news she’d never expected to hear. Her son Matthew was alive! And he was leading a crusade against genome harvesters and cloneslavers! She had rejoiced to know he lived. But the galactic tachnet broadcasts soon moved on to other matters and she’d been left to her own devices, still the property of a status-hungry alien. Now, her ear buds conveyed the voice of a very upset Masterful as he argued with an Anarchate official named Medun.

“
But Commander Medun!” growled Masterful in harsh Belizel. “This Human progenitor has been my property for fifteen cycles! Ever since I bought the wingless creature at the Flesh Markets on Megil, she has been seen by my Halicene confederates as my unique property! I have no wish to sell her to you.”

A brief silence came. Kristen huddled in the closet of her bedroom, a small space that lay near the front living room of Masterful’s large habitat unit. Reaching
under clothes discarded on the floor, she lifted up a flap of carpet and retrieved the neurolink disk that allowed her to ‘see visually’ through the tiny Spy Eye in Masterful’s front room. She applied it to her right temple, blinked, used an alpha brainwave pattern, and saw in her mind the image of Masterful as it faced a holo pedestal. In the holo stood the image of a Spelidon rat, a black-furred, black-eyed giant ‘rat’ whose two arms were crossed over a leather chest-strap.

“Your status trophy is desired by my master, Mindstorm, the leader of Sector 14,” snapped Medun as its long black whiskers assumed the posture of Command Asserted, a posture Kristen had often seen on Spelidon visitors to Masterful’s habitat. “You will be paid one thousand platinum Standards by direct transfer to your ‘official’ bank acco
unt. You are welcome to later transfer the money to your offworld assets account.”

Kristen bit her lip. If this Spelidon knew about Masterful’s
off work assets account, it knew enough to frighten her owner. And making fearful a Mican griffin-tiger was not smart. Micans always sought to attain the advantage in any social situation. When threatened they always struck back, no matter the cost.

“Your purchase offer is irrelevant,” hissed Masterful as the horse-sized alien took a step toward the holo, its feathery wings spreading away from its heavily muscled body in a stance she knew signaled Attack Imminent. The Micans broadcast their intentions almost as clearly as black whiskers signaled what a Spelidon rat was thinking. Or assuming. “I have no wish to sell my property. Hence the size of your purchase offer is
not important.”

The Spelidon rat named Medun did not show any fear reaction. Of course it was present
only in a three dee holo. Still, the Anarchate rat was present somewhere on this planet, otherwise Masterful would not be so angry.

“Your supervisors at Halicene Conglomerate,
at the commerce embassy here on Working, have assured me of your cooperation,” Medun said, its whiskers showing the emotion of Determined Arrogance. “Your status within Halicene . . . will be diminished if I force your supervisors to order you to sell this hairless biped to me.”

Masterful’s
needle-tail whipped the air behind it, then dug into the front room’s carpet. The Mican’s head fur flared out stiffly. “Such threats for a simple biped. There are millions of bipeds in the galaxy. Why is this one so special to Leader Mindstorm?”