Ep.#1 - "Escalation" (The Frontiers Saga: Rogue Castes) (20 page)

“That’s enough,” Cameron chided. She paused a moment, waiting for things to settle down. “I know that for many of you, this has been your first time under fire, so I’ll cut you some slack. But the fact is, we have to be ready to fight a war. Why is irrelevant, at least for us. We go where we’re told to go, and fight when we’re told to fight. It’s as simple as that. Now, I didn’t call you here to debate the issues. I called this meeting because I want to know exactly how prepared for combat this ship really is.” She looked at her executive officer. “Commander?”

“We are currently at seventy percent staffing levels throughout the ship,” Commander Kaplan said. “Unfortunately, that’s as good as it’s going to get for now. Some of our crew was transferred to the Cape Town, since we were a day from going down for refit. We were due to get replacements straight out of the academy once we were back in service.”

“Will that be enough?”

“If I shift some people around a bit, yes. But we’ll only be able to field three shifts instead of four, which means six-hour rotations instead of four.”

“Schedule some floaters from each shift to come in and relieve people at key positions for short breaks,” Cameron suggested. “And make sure we have plenty of coffee onboard.”

“That’s going to be a bit of a problem,” the commander responded. “We’re low on just about everything. In fact, we don’t even have a supply officer.”

“Let me guess. He was transferred to the Cape Town,” Cameron said.

“Yes, sir. I sent a message to command logistics, and told them to send us everything… To just pretend like they were stocking a new ship. They said they’d get on it.”

“Any word when we’ll get those supplies?”

“Nothing solid. A few days, at the most.”

“I’m assuming we’re good on ammunition,” Cameron said.

“We weren’t scheduled to offload the rail gun rounds until our reactor cores were removed,” the commander explained. “I guess they wanted us to remain armed until we absolutely could not be asked to get underway at a moment’s notice. However, we’re only at fifty percent jump missile capacity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cameron replied. She turned to her tactical officer. “Lieutenant Commander Vidmar, feel free to keep me apprised of our jump missile count at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Commander Caro?”

“I’m short two physicians, four nurses, and a few med-techs,” the chief medical officer counted. “And I only have two rescue teams. However, we were also waiting for the reactor cores to be removed before we shut down completely, so supply-wise, we’re in good shape. However, if we do suffer heavy casualties, we’re going to need to jump them back to Earth as quickly as possible, at least until I get fully staffed again.”

“Your people were transferred as well?”

“No, sir. Doctor Borrison’s rotation was up, and he went to his next specialty rotation back on Earth. He can be recalled if necessary. Doctor Lorenz is having treatment on his knee. If you remember, he injured it while on leave. As for the others, they will be returning in a few days. But the two replacement physicians could take several weeks. Fleet medical is trying to get a few trauma surgeons to volunteer for temporary duty in the meantime.”

Cameron looked at Vladimir wearily. “Please tell me you don’t have any bad news.”

“I’m afraid I do,” Vladimir replied. “In light of the Jung transgressions into Alliance space, Fleet has canceled my transfer.” Vladimir smiled. “I guess you’re stuck with me a while longer, Captain.”

A small smile crept into the corner of Cameron’s mouth as she turned away from Vladimir and back toward her executive officer. “Get me a new duty roster, and an updated supply count, Commander. And designate someone to take over as supply officer.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Jerrot faced straight ahead, but his eyes flicked back and forth nervously as he watched the Jung guards inspect the vehicle. “This is the fifth checkpoint in not even as many kilometers.”

“I know.” Travon Dumar’s demeanor was the exact opposite
of Jerrot’s.

“What is it they are looking for?”

“Weapons, people trying to get out of the city,” Dumar explained calmly. “Anything that doesn’t sit right with them. Mostly, they are just trying to get a feel for what the normal flow of traffic might be. This is why they issued a bulletin on the net just after the invasion, stating that everyone should go about their business as usual, but to expect delays in transit.”

“How do they expect us to function normally when they stop us at every other intersection?”

“Relax, Jerrot. It will not be this way forever,” Dumar assured his nervous friend. “They only seized control yesterday. In time, things will settle back down to normal.”

Jerrot rolled his eyes. “Normal, you say. How are things going to ever be normal under Jung occupation?”

“We lived under occupation before, and we can live under it again.”

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Jerrot muttered, his eyes still on the guards in front of them.

“Try not to appear nervous. You’ll draw attention to yourself.”

“I’ll likely draw
more
attention if I do
not
appear nervous.” Jerrot looked at Dumar. “Remember, you promised to get me and my family off of Corinair in exchange for helping you.”

“You have my word, Jerrot.”

“I still don’t understand how an importer ended up being a retired Alliance admiral. Someday, you must explain that one to me, Travon.”

“Someday. For now, keep your mind focused on your job,” Dumar insisted. “You are delivering wines to market, just as you always do, twice weekly. And I am here to help you move the barrels because your usual assistant did not show up for work today.”

Jerrot studied Dumar’s calm demeanor for a moment. “How do you do it, Travon?” he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “How do you remain so calm? They have guns, after all. Lots of them.”

“I have faced men with guns before, Jerrot.”

Jerrot shook his head in amazement. “Yes, there is much you still have to tell me about yourself, Travon.”

The soldiers detaining the vehicle in front of them stepped back and waved it forward through the checkpoint. Then they turned to look at Jerrot’s truck, gesturing for him to advance to the inspection area.

Jerrot took a deep breath and rolled the truck forward a few meters.

“Present identity cards to be inspected,” the Jung soldier demanded. His accent was thick, and his pronunciation of the Corinairan language was difficult to understand.

Jerrot handed his card to the soldier outside his window, as Dumar passed his to the soldier on his side of the vehicle.

“What purpose are you to entering this city?” the Jung soldier said curtly.

Jerrot recoiled at the sudden questioning. It was the fifth time a Jung guard had asked him the same question today, but this one had the poorest Corinairan yet. “Uh, my
purpose
is to deliver garant spice wine to the market.”

“What is this…
wine
?” the soldier asked, one eyebrow rising in suspicion.

Jerrot looked at Dumar, confused. Then he looked back at the soldier standing in his window. “Uh, it’s a warm beverage, made from garant fruit. You drink it,” he added, miming the act of drinking. “It is very popular on this world. It makes you feel good.” Jerrot offered an exaggerated smile for the soldier.

“And why are you to come with him?” the soldier on Dumar’s side of the truck inquired.

“To help him move the barrels of wine off the truck.”

The soldier looked at Dumar, taking note of his age.

“My usual helper did not show up for work today,” Jerrot explained.

“This is work for younger man,” the soldier chuckled. “Much younger, I think.”

“I am not too old to move a few barrels of wine, my friend.”

The soldiers laughed at Dumar’s response.

“From where does this
wine
come?” the first soldier wondered.

“Dakon Province, eighty kilometers to the west,” Dumar replied quickly, before Jerrot could mistakenly give the guards the true origination point of their product, which was just south of Dumar’s resort.

“And how many times to usual do you make such deliveries?”

“Two times per week, on average,” Jerrot replied.

Dumar glanced at the rear camera view on the truck’s console, watching as one of the other soldiers walked slowly along the side of their vehicle, scanning it with a handheld sensor unit. The man paused at the tail of the vehicle for a moment, staring at his scanner, then looked forward and signaled to the soldier standing next to Dumar that everything was in order.

“Your identity card,” the Jung soldier outside Dumar’s window said. “Have a good day, Mister Oslo,” he added in an expression of politeness that seemed completely unnatural.

“Thank you,” Dumar replied as he accepted the card back. “To you as well.”

“You may proceed,” the other soldier instructed, as he handed Jerrot’s ID card back to him and signaled the soldiers at the gate to allow them to pass.

“Thank you, sir,” Jerrot replied, trying to hide the overwhelming feeling of relief washing over him. He put the ID card back in his shirt pocket and moved the vehicle slowly forward. After pulling through the gate and driving a full block, he was finally able to relax a bit. “They asked more questions than the previous checkpoints.”

“That is to be expected, as we move deeper into the city,” Dumar told him. He reached over and patted Jerrot on the shoulder. “You are doing well, Jerrot. How much further to the market?”

“Less than a kilometer, I think.”

“Good. Then it is unlikely we will encounter any more checkpoints. At least, not until we attempt to leave the city.”

Jerrot looked at Dumar again. “I just hope your plan works. If it does not, I fear what they might do to us.”

“You have nothing to fear, Jerrot,” Dumar replied, “as they will undoubtedly kill us on the spot.”

Jerrot looked at him in horror. “You’re not helping matters, Travon.”

* * *

“Cap’n,” Marcus greeted, as he and Neli reached the top of the Seiiki’s cargo ramp and found the others gathered in the cargo bay.

“Marcus,” Captain Tuplo replied. “What’s the good news?”

“Nothin’ good, that’s for sure.” Marcus and Neli set their cloth satchels
of food they had purchased from Haven’s local street markets down on the deck beside them. “There’s not much in the way of payin’ runs, I’m afraid. The Jung have got the PC locked down so tight, everyone’s afraid to fly anywhere within the cluster, let alone in or out of it.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” the captain sighed.

“Runs gotta start popping up eventually, right?” Josh said. “I mean, people gotta eat. Even the Jung gotta eat. And people gotta move around from system to system. Goods gotta move…” Josh looked at the captain, then at Marcus. “I mean, if the Jung want to take advantage of the PC’s infrastructure, then they ain’t gonna shut it down completely. Sooner or later, the wheels gotta start turnin’ again, don’t you think?”

“Of course they will, Josh,” Captain Tuplo agreed. “The question is, can we wait it out?”

“Sure we can,” Josh insisted, undaunted by recent developments. “In the meantime, we can do that maintenance shit Dalen’s always complaining about not havin’ enough time to do.”

“This ship costs me credits just sitting in port, Josh. Credits I can’t afford to spend. And that maintenance you’re talking about? That costs credits as well. Credits for parts. Credits to feed us. Credits to pay all of you.”

“Won’t be the first time we’ve had to go without pay, Cap’n,” Marcus reminded him. “Likely won’t be the last. Frankly, I’m okay with that.”

“Me too, Cap’n,” Dalen added.

“That’s right,” Josh agreed.

Marcus nudged Neli.

“Me too,” Neli chimed in, although not as readily as the rest.

“I know you are, and I appreciate it, I do.” He paused a moment to think, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh. Then he looked at Neli. “How many days do you think we’re stocked for?”

“Including what we bought today? A week? That is, if Josh can refrain from eating twice his weight each day.”

“I have a very high metabolism,” Josh defended.

“What you have are hollow legs,” Marcus quipped. “Ever since you was knee-high.”

“How are repairs going?” the captain asked, looking to Dalen.

“Shields are back up, but the port shield generator is on its last legs, Cap’n. I can’t promise it’s gonna last much longer.”

“Best guess?”

Dalen shrugged. “Four, maybe five reentry cycles. After that, we’re really gonna be pushin’ our luck.”

“I don’t suppose you could overhaul it again?”

“I can try, I suppose,” Dalen replied. “But truth be told, there’s not much left to overhaul. One good spike and it’ll fry for sure.”

The captain looked at Marcus. “How much does one of those things cost?”

“More than we’ve got,” Marcus replied. “Even for a refurb.”

“Maybe it’s time we pulled up stakes and left this sector behind for good,” Neli suggested.

Everyone became quiet. It had been discussed many times before, and Neli always seemed to be the one to bring it up.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Neli,” Josh said, “but maybe she’s right, Cap’n. Maybe it
is
time.”

Captain Tuplo studied each of their faces briefly. “Well, suppose we do jump out of the sector for good. If we’re lucky, we pick up a job before our food and fuel runs out, and before we lose that shield generator once and for all. We’ll have a whole new set of rules to learn. A whole new set of contacts to make, and relationships to build. And because we’ll be short on everything, we won’t be able to be very picky about what jobs we accept or who they’re for. That could very well lead us into a lot of trouble. And remember, there are not a lot of jump ships operating outside the Pentaurus sector.”

“But that’s an advantage,” Neli insisted.

“Perhaps,” the captain replied. “But it also makes us a target, not only for nefarious types like the two we scared off last night, but for any businessman or would-be potentate looking for an edge over his competitors.”

“Kinda goes with the territory, though, don’t it?” Marcus said.

“Yes, it does. But what if we
don’t
find work right away? What if the first port we set down in
sees
the potential in our ship and squeezes us out of work so we won’t be able to pay our port fees and our ship gets impounded and auctioned off? Or worse yet, make us fly for them for peanuts, just so we can keep our heads above the red line?”

“Cap’n, we can always lift off
before
we run out of funds for the port fees,” Josh said. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“And what? Float around in space until someone takes pity on us, or worse yet, we hand our ship over so we don’t starve to death adrift in space? Hell, we don’t even know if they’ll
accept
PC credits outside of this sector.” Captain Tuplo shook his head, frustrated by the situation. “No, if we’re gonna leave the Pentaurus sector behind once and for all, we’ve got to have the resources to do so in a safe manner.”

“You keep sayin’ that, Cap’n,” Josh said. “But every time we get together enough to head out, something happens, and we get stuck again.”

“It’s not like I’m not trying, Josh.”

“I know…”

“The problem is you’re not willing to take risks, Captain,” Neli said, interrupting Josh.