Authors: Christopher Nuttall
“The Academy hasn't quite recovered from the end of the war,” Glen agreed. He’d heard from a friend of his who’d taken up a post at the Academy. The classes had been cut, half the staff had been reassigned and the courses were being reorganised to cover all the details that had been stripped out during wartime. “What do you want to do about him?”
“Chief Jackson is providing some droll advice from time to time,” Sandy said. “But the Ensign hasn't yet learned how to tell the difference between the times when it’s alright to ask for advice and the times when it isn't.”
She shrugged. “He makes a good tactical officer,” she added. “But he needs more seasoning before he can take on a permanent duty station.”
“Rotate him to engineering for a week,” Glen suggested. Crew assignments were the XO’s job. “And let him know that there are moments of boredom in the Navy as well as excitement.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Sandy said. “He thinks he’s missed out on the war.”
Glen rolled his eyes. He’d been like that too, back when it had finally penetrated his skull that there was a war on. His life on Mars had been sheltered from the handful of privations inflicted on Earth, let alone the outer worlds. And he hadn't been cured of it until he’d actually joined the Navy and discovered just how many of his gung-ho classmates hadn't survived a year after graduation. Of the one hundred cadets in his class, he knew, only twelve had survived the war.
It hadn't been fun when it had finally sunk in that he could be
killed
. The realisation would have made him freeze, if training hadn't taken over. He could have died when a missile struck his ship, or been condemned to a long slow death if the drive system failed, trapping them in hyperspace or a hostile star system. Glen had recovered; others, he’d been told, had not. Some promising cadets had never lived up to their potential once they were in interstellar space.
“If he grumbles too much,” he said, “tell him that there will be plenty of action in the future.”
Sandy picked up her queen, then paused. “You think so?”
“There's the people who attacked Tyson’s Rest,” Glen said. “Then there are pirates, raiders, terrorists and even the Dragon warlords. I dare say that we will be very busy for years to come, even if the TFN is cutting down the number of deployable hulls. And next time we discover a starship pirates attacked, we can add him to the away team.”
He shuddered at the memory. Pirates had grown up like weeds during the war, even though they’d been careful not to attack escorted convoys. He’d seen the aftermath of their attacks, back when he'd been an Ensign himself. Pirates sometimes took prisoners, but sometimes they merely had their fun and left, leaving the bodies behind. It wasn't too hard to understand the colonial attitude towards the Dragons – and all other aliens. The TFN felt the same way about pirates.
“Poor kid,” Sandy said, although there was a hint of amusement in her tone. “You really think he deserves that sort of punishment?”
Glen shrugged. “The sooner he learns that it isn't a game, the better,” he said. “We can't have him thinking that it’s all fun and games out here.”
He scowled as he moved his king back, dodging her attack. The TFN would have problems as experienced officers and crewmen confronted newcomers who hadn't served during the war. Some of them wouldn't learn anything from their experienced comrades, others would think they knew best because they had never really been tested. And, with so many officers and crew taking early retirement, the overall level of experience was likely to drop. How many lessons, learnt in the fires of war, would have to be relearned with blood?
“I’ll see to it,” Sandy promised. She moved a knight, then smiled. “Check.”
Glen opened his mouth to protest, but the intercom buzzed before he could say a word. “Captain,” Danielle’s voice said, “we’re picking up a distress signal from Putrajaya. They’re under attack. Their message reported several unknown starships opening fire before we lost all contact.”
“Understood,” Glen said.
He thought rapidly. If they hadn't had the convoy to escort, he wouldn't have hesitated; he had a legal and moral obligation to protect humans, even if their exact legal status was in doubt. But they
did
have the convoy ... and
Independence
would head back to Putrajaya at once, no matter what he did. He couldn't leave the light cruiser to tackle a force of unknown power on her own. There was no real alternative.
“Contact the convoy commanders; inform them that they will have to hold position in hyperspace,” he ordered. “Then alter course and take us back to Putrajaya, best possible speed.”
“Yes, sir,” Danielle said. “Should I inform the local government?”
“Negative,” Glen said. “It’s too likely that the attackers will pick up the message.”
He looked over at Sandy, who was watching him through expressionless eyes. Was she surprised, he wondered, that he was prepared to put himself and his ship between colonials and the mystery attackers? Or was she pleased that he was willing to risk his life and the lives of his crew to defend humans? It wasn't a question he could ask. Instead, he stood and led the way towards the bridge.
“Captain on the bridge,” Cooke said, as he stepped through the hatch. “Captain, we will be back in the system in five minutes.”
Glen nodded as he sat down in the command chair. The attackers had timed their attack badly ... or had they? What did they really have in mind? It couldn't be a coincidence that their attack had come just after
Dauntless
and her convoy had left, having unloaded hundreds of tons of supplies for the aliens. Glen knew better than to believe in coincidences, particularly unlikely ones. They just didn't happen.
“Red alert,” he ordered. He could worry about what was actually going on after the battle was done. “All hands to battle stations.”
“All stations report ready,” Sandy reported, a minute later.
“Weapons online, ready to fire,” Cooke added. He sounded confident, although
Dauntless
had yet to have her first real combat test. “Defence grid armed, ready to fire.”
“Establish a datalink with
Independence
,” Glen ordered. They’d be fighting side-by-side with a colonial warship. If nothing else, the experience would tell them a great deal about the colonial military machine. “And then take us out of hyperspace.”
He braced himself. “And send a signal to Fairfax, copied to Bottleneck,” he added. There would be bare seconds for the attackers to notice the signal, not long enough for them to change their tactics or start running. “Inform them that we are about to engage the enemy.”
“Captain,” Dana said, sharply, “I’m picking up two portals forming ...”
“I see them,”
Jason said. Two portals were blossoming into life, far too close to the planet for comfort. Moments later, they disgorged a pair of starships and then faded away into nothingness. “Alter course to evade.”
“Reading one heavy cruiser, Federation Navy, and one light cruiser, Colonial Militia,” Dana added. “They’re advancing towards us on attack vector.”
Jason hesitated, contemplating the tactical situation. They
might
be able to defeat both starships, but only at a cost. Few people willingly tangled with the Colonial Militia, not when years of fighting had turned them into ruthless opponents; the Federation Navy, too, had a reputation for icy determination that had led them to fight and win the Battle of Sphere-Prime. Their political leaders might be determined to forget that the war had ever taken place, but he dared not assume that the starship commander facing him was that idiotic.
“Continue to evade,” he ordered. They’d hit most of their targets on the planet’s surface, including the most important one. “And prepare to engage if they come after us.”
***
Glen stared down at the live feed from the sensors and knew that they were facing the same people who had attacked Tyson’s Rest. Whoever they were, whatever they had in mind, the attack pattern was distinctive. They’d taken out government buildings, military bases and communications centres on the planet before, but they’d saved the worst for the alien refugee camp. The camp had not only been hit badly, it had been wiped out of existence. They hadn't bothered with sending in the ground troops this time.
They’re all dead
, he thought, remembering the listless Dragons and the handful of humans trying to supervise them.
All gone
.
He shuddered, inwardly. The whole idea of humanising the Dragons still struck him as absurd, but the people trying it hadn’t deserved to die. They certainly hadn't deserved to be blasted from orbit, wiped out as casually as one might order dinner. But there had been nothing anyone could do to save them. The sensor readings made it clear that the planetary defence network had been smashed.
“Nine starships; one light cruiser, two frigates, five destroyers and one armed freighter,” Cooke said. The display updated rapidly as the enemy ships started to move away from the planet. “Captain, I have positively identified three of them as being present during the attack on Tyson’s Rest.”
Glen smiled, coldly. It was unlikely that the raiders would stand and fight, no matter their political case. In his experience, terrorists rarely picked fights against people who might be able to stand up for themselves. But they couldn't be allowed to escape, not when they would come back again and again. They had to be pinned down and destroyed now.
“Take us towards the light cruiser,” he ordered. It was the most dangerous threat, even though the destroyers were more numerous. “Maximum acceleration.”
He studied the sensor readings as they closed in on the light cruiser. It seemed to be fully-functional, something that was unusual for a pirate ship. They were generally slackers when it came to maintaining their vessels. He glared down at the display as he realised that would add extra ammunition to Cynthia’s insistence that they were dealing with rogue colonial ships, rather than pirates or simple raiders. But they would need physical evidence to actually move against the backers, if indeed there
were
backers. At least one revenge attack on the other side of the Great Wall had been carried out by a man who’d acted alone.
“Weapons range in five minutes,” Cooke reported. “Enemy ship is accelerating.”
Glen nodded, trying to put himself in his enemy’s shoes. What was he thinking? What would he
do
? In his place, Glen would have ordered his ships to scatter, knowing that the two hostile ships couldn't chase them
all
down. But if they stuck together, they’d have their best chance of winning if it came down to a fight.
We’d take a bite out of them even if we lost
, Glen thought, slowly.
They shouldn't stand and fight. So ... why aren't they running
?
They’d been lucky, he realised, as the enemy ship fought to pick up speed.
Dauntless
had come out of hyperspace at a respectable speed, while the enemy ship had been dawdling as it carried out its mission. Unless they opened a portal and vanished into hyperspace, they were going to be caught. They had to know it.
So what sort of game were they playing?
***
Jason
looked over at Dana. “General orders,” he said. “All ships are to scatter; I say again, all ships are to scatter. They are to meet us at the RV point.”
“Understood,” Dana said. She showed no sign of caring, but he heard several other crewmen exhale in relief. They all knew that a missile duel with an oncoming warship was a losing proposition. “Message relayed.”
“Prepare to drop static bombs as soon as we enter hyperspace,” Jason added. It was risky as hell, but it was the only way to ensure that the Federation warship didn't chase them through the alternate dimension. He watched for a long moment as his ships scattered, then scowled as he realised that the feds were clinging to
Havoc
like leeches. “Open the portal ...
now
!”