Starhold (27 page)

“Carr, talk to me,” she said forcefully, and then more gently added the word, “please.”

He looked up at the sky and then back to her. “Shannon worked for Nuevo Mundi, the terraforming company.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. It’s headquartered on Quijano.”

“She was stationed on the Uritski Outpost, working at a site they call the Periclean Plateau. One day, she didn’t report for work. When the supervisor checked her quarters, they found her asleep. They tried to wake her but they couldn’t. She’d fallen into some sort of a coma.”

“Where is she now?”

“In a long-term care hospital in Boutwell. She’s being kept in medical stasis: it’s like hypersleep, so they can keep her alive while they work on a cure.”

“A cure for what?” asked Sanchez.

“She picked up some sort of virus on Uritski, something that’s keeping her comatose. The doctors are stumped. They say there’s no physical damage to her body and that she should be fine, except she just won’t wake up. If there was no hope then I’d accept that, but the doctors believe they can still save her. They say they just need more time, but time costs money.

“The other problem is the insurance company—they don’t want to pay for any more care. Her prolonged struggle for life is eating into their profits, so I’m trying to pick up the medical bills on my own.”

“I’m so sorry, Carr,” said Sanchez. “Can’t you sue the insurance company or Nuevo Mundi?”

“I am, but legal action is slow and lawyers cost money too,” he replied, taking a deep breath of the night air before continuing. “Sanchez, what does any of this have to do with our current situation?”

She held her hands out in the palms up gesture. “You tell me. A suicide run? How’s that going to help anyone?”

“If I can cripple that big Rhuzari ship and give our forces a chance to win, it will be worth it. And,” he took a deep breath, “it will give Shannon a chance to win, too.”

She looked up from her chair as his meaning sunk in. All OMI operatives had a hefty life insurance policy on them in case they died in the line of duty.

“The life insurance money? You can’t be serious.”

Sanchez walked over to Carr. She was very close to him, looking intently into his eyes and then her right hand rose quickly to slap him hard across the face. “You stupid…fool!” She quickly moved to the other side of the small courtyard and then rushed halfway back toward him. “Why do you men always have to be so dramatic? You always have to make some sort of stupid grand gesture, to be a martyr. Fools, that’s all you are.” She paused as something occurred to her. “Besides Carr, you don’t have the command codes to fly
Kestrel
.”

“I can order you to give me the codes.”

“You know I won’t do that.”

“All right, I’ll just take
Kite
instead. I have those codes.” Carr started to say something else and his voice broke. Finally, he spoke in a low, defeated tone. “Sanchez, I just don’t know what else to do.”

She shook her head back and forth. “Frank, there just has to be another way, a plan B. Your wife wouldn’t want you to throw your life away like this and…” she hesitated, “And I don’t want you to either.”

“My wife?” he asked, looking at her oddly.

She stared back at him. Maybe this wasn’t a cold, calculated attempt to be a hero. He might just be cracking up. “Yeah, Shannon.”

It took Carr a beat to get it. “Mumphrey told you Shannon was my wife?” He let out a little laugh and Sanchez almost slapped him again.

“Sorry,” he said. “Oh, Gods, typical SSB efficiency right to the end.”

“Have you gone completely mad?”

Carr straightened up. “Mumphrey, bless her, was wrong. I’m not married. Shannon Carr is my sister.”

“Your sister,” Sanchez repeated, as she blinked her eyes and fumbled for words, but only for an instant. “OK, same question, do you think your sister would want you to throw away your life?”

“Sorry you had the wrong—” Carr stopped talking and stood perfectly still. She could tell something had clicked in his mind. He wasn’t considering her last question—he was concentrating. Finally, he snapped his fingers as his face lit up.

“What?” she asked.

Staring at her for a moment longer, he reached out his right hand and snapped his fingers twice again.

“What, what?”

“Plan B,” he said. “But we’ll need Korab’s help.”

Sanchez looked at him suspiciously. “Does it involve a suicide run?”

“Well, sort of, but I won’t be going alone—you’ll be piloting.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along as they moved back inside. “C’mon, we’ve got to see Korab.”

Following behind him, Sanchez muttered to herself. “Gods, why did I have to stop Plan A?”

28: Gift

As the scout ship raced upward from the Earth’s surface,
Kestrel
was just about to trade the darkness of an autumn night for the blackness of outer space. With Etta Sanchez piloting, the small vessel rose to seek out the behemoth Rhuzari warship
Imperial Wrath
. It was like a gazelle hunting a lion or a baby seal seeking out a great white shark. It was crazy.

Crossing the Karman line and now fully in the vacuum, the stealth scout’s space sensors kicked in and a variety of displays came to life before Frank Carr’s eyes.

“Man, I wish I had a cup of coffee right about now,” said Sanchez from her pilot’s seat to his left.

“You’re doing great,” mumbled Carr as he tried to concentrate on the incoming data.

“Doesn’t a condemned woman get a last request?”

“There it is,” said Carr, swiping at the display in front of him, pasting a copy of it onto the HUD shade worn by Sanchez. The enormous vessel was nearly 44,000 kilometers off to port, and the pilot straightened
Kestrel
to make a direct bead for the enemy ship.

“I don’t understand something,” said Sanchez. “If you want them to see us, why are we still in stealth?”

Carr finished examining some data before responding. “I don’t want us to be attacked by one of the other Rhuzari ships before we get to Fleetmaster Haldryn. That doesn’t seem to be a problem though—take a look.”

Kestrel’s
sensors showed only three other enemy warships near Earth, all hugging close to the Rhuzari shipyard. The rest of the opposition was hours out, beyond the asteroid belt but coming hard back toward the Blue Planet.

“Looks like the Gerrhans got wiped out,” said Sanchez somberly as she noted the wreckage of Commonwealth warships near Saturn. “So if
Kestrel’s
safe for the time being, shall I drop her out of stealth?”

Carr considered the notion. “No, stay in stealth until we get close to the big ship.”

“Oh, OK—I get it. Sneak up on them, drop stealth, and then get blown up. Gotcha.”

Carr grinned. “Haldryn wants our stealth technology so bad he can taste it. If we crawl right up to him and then reveal ourselves, it will just make him want it that much more. Don’t worry, Sanchez, he won’t kill us until after we dock with his ship.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said. “So, won’t he suspect something’s fishy if we just show up and want to come aboard?”

“That’s where we have to do a little acting, but before that,” he said pointing to one of his data screens, “there’s TF Nineteen, or rather what’s left of them.”

Kestrel
had completed its detailed sensor sweeps and Sanchez now saw the bigger picture—debris strewn over hundreds of thousands of square kilometers. Icons of what the scout ID’d as rubble from Union ships, life pods, and floating corpses.

“Gods,” she said in a near whisper. “It was a massacre. We only have seven ships left.”

“And the tankers near Jupiter,” Carr added. “C’mon, we have to send the data we uploaded to what remains of the fleet. Can you set up a tight-beam comm signal?”

Sanchez shook herself to concentrate on the task. “Yeah, gimme a minute. And, Carr, you were right. We have to stop these bastards no matter the cost.”

* * * *

The stateroom lights were dimmed low as Haldryn sat in a chair beside his bed. His sheets were mussed from numerous attempts to sleep, but he always landed back in the chair, looking at their pictures.

In his hands, he held a leather-covered trifold case. Inside the case, three panels showed looping video portraits. In the center was a woman flanked by two children—an adolescent girl and a younger boy. In his scene, the young boy was making faces and clowning around.
Not quite military discipline
thought his father,
but he is only ten.
His sister was much more dignified, so much like her mother, her beautiful mother…

A chime from the intercom interrupted his trance. “Yes,” he acknowledged. It was Captain Rhaab, mistress of his flagship.

“Sorry to disturb your sleep, my Lord,” came a husky female voice, “but I think you should come to the bridge.” Rhaab was a no-nonsense commanding officer, which meant if she was summoning him to the bridge at this late hour, there was a good reason. As for disturbing his sleep…

When the fleetmaster arrived on the spacious bridge of the
Imperial Wrath
, he was greeted by Rhaab and his Chief of Staff, High Captain Balasi. Both had obviously been rousted from their beds, with Balasi still working on buttoning his shirt. On the other hand, Haldryn arrived neatly dressed in full uniform, right down to the ceremonial dagger on his belt.

“What is it?” the leader demanded. “Has the enemy fleet moved?”

Balasi began to answer, but Captain Rhaab beat him to it. “No, my Lord, they’re still sitting out there. However, we are picking up intermittent neighborhood signals.”

“What the devil are ‘intermittent neighborhood signals,’ Captain? What exactly does that mean?”

This time, Balasi answered. “It means we believe there is an enemy ship operating in stealth mode nearby.”

Haldryn slid into his bridge chair, which was slightly elevated behind Captain Rhaab’s command chair. He casually crossed his legs and smirked. “I want that ship intact, Captain. We’ll board her if we must, but under no circumstances are you to fire on that vessel without my personal command.”

Rhaab looked at Balasi and rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “We have to find it first—sir,” she said under her breath. The captain of the
Imperial Wrath
was a fierce looking woman with a disposition to match. A veteran of several campaigns, she was probably the only person aboard that the fleetmaster did not intimidate.

Balasi settled into his seat beside Haldryn. “I still believe we should just attack the rest of the Union fleet and be done with them.”

“Patience, Balasi. The main body of our fleet will arrive within hours and they will finish off the invaders. The enemy has an advantage in their stealth tech. It may be their only advantage, but it is an advantage, nonetheless. We must stay close to protect Bakkoa since it is our only home now that the Threshold is gone.

“Balasi, speaking of the Threshold, is your prisoner being cooperative?”

The high captain leaned over in his chair and spoke in a low voice. “Yes, Fleetmaster, very. I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to inform you, but—”

“Unidentified ship right underneath us!” shouted a crewmember from his station. The
Kestrel
had disengaged its stealth mode about 230 meters beneath the mammoth vessel. “Incoming transmission for Fleetmaster Haldryn.”

“Put it through to command stations, lieutenant,” Haldryn ordered. Instantaneously, an image floated in midair before the fleetmaster. The picture was a wide view of Carr and Sanchez sitting at a control panel.

Carr grinned as he put on his best provocative face. “Haldryn, long time…”

Haldryn glowered at the Sarissan as Carr’s taunt produced the desired result. “You do realize that with one word, I could have you destroyed, don’t you?”

“I do, but you won’t,” replied Carr. His smirk disappeared and his demeanor turned sober. “Seriously, Fleetmaster, we need to talk. This carnage has to stop and I want to negotiate an end to it.”

It was Haldryn’s turn to scoff. “Negotiate? We don’t need to negotiate. When the balance of my fleet arrives, it will destroy what remains of your force—end of story. Besides, what do you have to negotiate with?” Everyone knew the answer to that question but Haldryn simply wanted to hear Carr grovel.

“Look, this doesn’t have to play out this way.” Carr fidgeted and glanced sideways over to Sanchez. “Let the remaining Union ships refuel and withdraw from the system. Sanchez and I will act as hostages against any further Sarissan military action.”

Haldryn laughed. “You’re either a fool, or you think me one. No government would hesitate to sacrifice the lives of two people to accomplish their aims. You’ll have to do better than that.”

The two operatives looked at each other and there seemed to be some discord between them. Sanchez said something under her breath, which sounded like “We can’t do this,” as her comrade wiped a hand over his face in frustration.

Carr rallied with a new proposal. “We both know you want this ship for its stealth tech, so here’s the deal. We will contact the Union task force and I’ll negotiate their withdrawal. When they’re safely away, we’ll dock with your vessel and turn the ship over.”

Haldryn’s heart beat faster as he knew he was closer to having his way. “And how do I know you won’t engage your stealth and escape as soon as your comrades are safely away?’

“You have my word.”

The fleetmaster leaned back in his chair. “Not good enough.”

Carr broke communication after he and the pilot started to have another disagreement.

“Fleetmaster, this is a deception,” declared Captain Rhaab in her deep voice, without even looking around at her superior. “We must be very careful here.”

Haldryn snickered. “How could a small ship like that possibly harm the
Wrath?
Rhaab, just think of that ship’s stealth capabilities integrated into this vessel. Why, it staggers the imagination.”

She was unconvinced. “Sub-lieutenant Gullan, how many lifesigns aboard that ship?”

“Two, ma’am.”

Haldryn leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “What’s the matter, Rhaab? Do you think they have a brigade of troops aboard, ready to storm our ship once they get the opportunity?”

That prompted her to twist around and face him. “No, but they could have some other type of trick, like an explosive device. Please do not be overconfident, my Lord.”

That thought seemed to give the fleetmaster some concern, but only for a moment. “Carr doesn’t strike me as the suicidal type, but I appreciate your caution, Captain. As you advise, we will be careful.”

Carr came back on the comm channel. “OK, Haldryn, what about this? We dock our scout in your ship. I come to your bridge and contact the Union commander. My colleague Sanchez will remain aboard the scout with her finger on a command button that will destroy the stealth system of this vessel if you try anything funny. Believe me, you won’t be able to learn anything if she gives that command—everything will be completely fried. After the Union fleet leaves Sol safely, we turn the ship and ourselves over to you.”

“And what if she destroys the stealth system after your fleet is safely away? Or commands the ship computer to do it later?”

“You’ll have us as hostages against that. Our lives are forfeit if we double-cross you,” declared Carr. “You have my word.”

This time it was the Rhuzari’s turn to break the connection. “Balasi, have a squad of Black Caps ready in Docking Bay Two. Captain Rhaab, drop the shields to allow their scout entrance, then reactivate them once they’ve docked.”

The fleetmaster turned back to the screen. “We have an arrangement, Carr. Proceed to Docking Bay Two. Our bridge will direct you. Haldryn out.” He sat back in his seat with a pleased look on his face, absent-mindedly letting his index finger rub over the scar on his cheek.

“The Black Caps are ready, Fleetmaster,” reported Balasi a few minutes later. “Sir, are you seriously going through with this?”

Haldryn winked and flashed an uncharacteristic grin. “Actually, Balasi, yes—yes, I am. What are a few Union ships compared to gaining their stealth technology? Let them go home and tell tales of what happened in the Sol system. It will demoralize their people.”

“And Carr and Sanchez?”

“After the technology has been secured from their vessel, we will execute them as spies.”

* * * *

About fifteen minutes later,
Kestrel
came to a rest in Docking Bay Two of the Rhuzari war-titan. The hanger itself was bigger than some of the smaller warships employed by the Union, short-ranged corvettes, for example. As
Kestrel’s
engines disengaged, the Black Caps surrounded the scout, waiting for the hatch to open and Carr to walk out.

The lieutenant in charge of the squad was connected to the bridge by a neural interface, so the command staff saw everything he was seeing. The squad waited—and waited, as
Kestrel
just sat there.

“Sub-lieutenant Gullan, scan that ship with everything we have,” ordered an increasingly uneasy Captain Rhaab.

The well-trained officer worked his controls. “It looks all clear, ma’am. Still showing two lifesigns aboard and no other significant activity.”

Rhaab turned toward Haldryn and Balasi. “Of course, it
is
a stealth ship. They could be hiding things from us.”

Balasi started to say something, but he was cut short by
Kestrel.
The outer and inner hatches of the small ship slid open. A smile came to Fleetmaster Haldryn’s face, but slowly faded as nothing more transpired.

“Black Caps,” he barked, “enter that ship and report!”

As the elite forces moved to board the vessel, the
Imperial Wrath’s
bridge watched on a viewscreen.
Kestrel
was small, so the Black Cap leader didn’t have to go far to investigate matters. In the front of the main cabin was the command area and the Black Cap leader could see the back of the heads of two people sitting in the pilot and co-pilot chairs, but they hadn’t turned around to face him.

On an order from the squad leader, a pair of Black Caps advanced and spun the chairs around. They held two men, both bound and gagged. On the bridge, High Captain Balasi turned pale as he spoke a name: “Sandu.” No one recognized the other man, who was in fact Bakkoan Police Corporal Kees.

“Release them,” ordered the squad leader.

On the bridge, Captain Rhaab jumped to her feet. “Gullan! Erect a force-field around that docking bay—now!”

Gullan wasn’t quick enough. The explosion ripped through the hanger and ate into the surrounding compartments. Dozens were killed instantly, blown to dust by the blast. Others suffered along the way to their death, being burned or crushed or sucked out into the vacuum of space. The entire ship shuttered mightily.

Haldryn’s bomb, which had been turned against him, set off a chain of secondary explosions that ripped through the ship. Those on the bridge felt the enormous vessel convulse, and then shake again as if she were having a seizure. The
Imperial Wrath
was colossal and even an explosion of this magnitude could not destroy the ship by itself but the damage was incredible. There was a period of chaos before damage reports began to clarify the picture.