Traitor (Rebel Stars Book 2) (30 page)

His face grew somber. As he paced in front of the starscape filling his wall, the camera adjusted to keep him centered.

"For us, however, it may be too late to make a difference. FinnTech has decided that your departure from the System is an attempt to flee justice. They are gathering a fleet. And they are coming for the Hive. Could be this is posturing, or that our announcement will convince them to back off. But I can't count on that. Too many lives depend on me to expect Finn to react rationally.

"I won't let them take the Hive without a fight. It's time to make a stand. I don't expect to win—but at least the System will finally see what FinnTech really is. Chances are you won't make it back in time. I suggest you plan a course for Ares. That's where I'll be withdrawing our people. They're going to need protection. And if we're able to rally a counter-offensive, you can't ask for a more inspiring team than the people who just took out an alien."

Toman smiled, the weariness lifting from his face. "Whatever they do to the Hive, they can't take away what you've accomplished out there on the fringe. You three are the craziest people I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Thank you for being a part of my team. Wish us luck."

The video ended. Rada wandered to a chair. "FinnTech's coming to stomp him out, and he wants us to flee to Ares?"

"He thinks he's saving us," MacAdams said.

"He's right," Webber said. "Our ammo's almost dry. If we can't get there and rearm before the fleet arrives, we won't be anything more than a mascot. Even if we keep it at full burn, the fight could be over before we get there."

Rada ran her hand through her hair. "So you agree. You want to go to Ares."

"Hell no! Like I
want
to run away while Thor Finn takes out Toman? The one guy who's had the balls to stand up to these pricks?"

"But you're saying it's the smart play."

"Yeah." He stared straight ahead, hands limp in his lap. "So. Do we
want
to be smart?"

"We probably used up all our luck in the fight with Those." She called up a new course on the nav. "Maybe it's time we took a breather."

MacAdams blinked at them, jaw thrust forward. "You two. What'd you do with Rada and Webber?"

Rada withdrew her hand from the console. "You have a dissenting opinion?"

"You want to give up before you even tried. Well, that ain't me."

"We're not 'giving up.' We're putting ourselves in a position where we can continue to be useful."

"This could be our only chance to stop them. You want to duck out on that? Then we might as well turn around and keep on flying until the sun's just a speck. 'Cause there's nothing left for us here."

She exhaled noisily. "Nice to finally meet your inner drama queen. How are we ducking a fight when we intend to come after them later?"

"Because!" He stood to his full height, jabbing a finger at the stars ahead of them. "You act like you know what's going on out there. Well, I don't see a map. I don't see a weather forecast. If it's hopeless, it's because you've decided to
be
hopeless."

"Do you have an alternative? Or are you simply enjoying the chance to insult me?"

"Here's my alternative: try. Bust our butts to get to the Hive before FinnTech. If it turns out we can't, then we'll divert to Ares. What've we got to lose?"

"I hate that question," Webber said. "But only because you've convinced me to find out."

Rada squeezed her temples. "I'm not making this up. Toman thinks we should head to Ares."

MacAdams crossed his arms. "Because he knows for a fact we can't make it in time? Or because he's given up, too?"

"I don't think he's given up," she said. "But if he has, maybe we can help him believe again." She erased the new course from the nav. "We've got two problems. We need to go faster, and we need to get more things that go boom."

Webber tipped back his head. "I can't build us new missiles. But I can weld the remaining drones to the hull. Might as well put their engines to use, right?"

"We're still accelerating. How are you going to get them onto the hull?"

"Open up the cargo bay. Stick the drones to the walls with their engines venting out the door."

"Do it," she said. "And let's dump everything nonessential. Every pound of mass we can get off the ship is one we don't have to waste energy accelerating."

He and MacAdams suited up and headed to the
Tine
's small cargo hold. Rada composed a reply and Needled it toward the Hive. Knowing it would be hours before she got a response, she went to her cabin, gathering all but two sets of clothes and lugging them to the airlock. She performed similar triage on the galley, stacking excess plates and plastic utensils. Compared to the bulk of the
Tine
, it wasn't much. But given how much space lay between them and the Hive, the smallest boost to their acceleration would be magnified a thousand times over. Pants, spoons, and chairs sailed away behind them, vanishing into the blackness.

It took MacAdams and Webber the better part of a day to haul the drones into position and secure them to the walls of the cargo hold. Despite some reservations, Toman had agreed to her plan, and had already dispatched a light freighter outward from the Hive; it would spend the next two and a half days accelerating out into the System, then swing about to link up with the
Tine
on their approach.

He'd sent her some footage of the Hive, too. Scores of ships laced the vacuum around the silvery ring and the miles-wide mini-planet that comprised Toman's home base. Most of the vessels were haulers, bringing in supplies and bearing away civilians, but there were already thirty combat-capable craft on the scene. These ranged in size from single-seat short-range fighters to the lumbering bulk of two assault cruisers the size of the warships used to patrol the Lanes. Most were closer to the
Tine
's class, heavy fighters and light corvettes with long-distance engines and enough size to carry a few drones. No MAs, though. So far, Toman had only created a single copy of the one on the
Tine
. The next batch wasn't expected for several weeks.

Rada wasn't sure why Toman sent her these videos—to imply that one more ship wouldn't make a difference and that they'd be better spent elsewhere? To give her hope about their chances? Or simply to bear witness to the preparations for what was shaping up to be the largest naval engagement in over twenty years? Whatever the impetus, she watched the recordings with a sense of awe for the scale, and a sadness that it could soon all be brought to ruin.

With 98 hours to ETA, she received a new message. FinnTech had denounced the videos of the
Tine
fighting an alien ship as a hoax. According to them, Toman Benez was a dangerous liar who was happy to exploit people's fears of Swimmers in order to turn them against FinnTech. A man who'd tried to enlist the help of pirates to prosecute a war that was about nothing more than his failure to compete in the industry that had once made him rich.

Thor Finn spoke from the shining bridge of a hideously expensive flagship. "My company employs tens of thousands of people. Its ships ensure the safety of millions. And in successfully establishing a relationship with the Swimmers, I believe that we are playing a major and essential role in ensuring that our two species never again go to war.

"Toman Benez has proven to be a continued and violent threat to the existence of my company. All people deserve the right to defend themselves. But this runs far deeper. I bear a responsibility, to all of you, to preserve the peace of the System and mankind's presence in the galaxy. For these reasons, I have no choice but to declare war against the institution putting our collective future at risk."

The official video came with further footage shot by individuals in Toman's employ. Recordings of a gathering fleet. One that outnumbered the defenders at the Hive five times over. It was already underway. ETA to the Hive in 89 hours.

"What a bunch of bullshit," Webber said. "Preventing a war with the Swimmers? Does anyone believe
that's
why they're striking deals for priceless advanced technology?"

"Don't matter if anyone buys it," MacAdams said. "Only thing that matters is that FinnTech pretends they believe it."

Rada called up an active display of their course, along with the FinnTech armada. "They're scheduled to beat us to the Hive. Do we go on? Or divert to Ares?"

MacAdams rolled his neck, joints crackling. "It'll be closer than the numbers say. You watch. A fleet only flies as fast as its slowest ship."

She kept to the course. She flung herself into news and commentary. Public reaction was confused. Splintered. Some thought the
Tine
's fight with the alien was a fake. A few went so far as to claim the Hive had been the one running the blockade on the System all along. Others believed the attack on the
Tine
had been real, but weren't sure what it meant. Some insisted on an instant and universal declaration of war, whether against Those, or all known alien species. Some said the corporations couldn't be trusted to act in the interest of humanity and insisted governments take over the frontier. Others demanded the exact opposite. Some took the videos as evidence the Swimmers wished to be allies, and that FinnTech had done a great deed by engaging them; others were dead certain the attacks on outbound ships were all part of an elaborate Swimmer deception masking a second attack against mankind.

After hours of swimming in the ocean of opinion, Rada no longer knew what she believed. The confusion, however, all pointed to the same thing: right then, opinions were useless. No one was going to intervene in the battle. The Hive had no one to defend it but itself.

24 hours later, MacAdams' prediction had proved half right. They'd gained two hours on the FinnTech fleet, but it was still scheduled to make contact with the Hive seven hours before the
Tine
's arrival. Lacking the engine power to brake any harder than they were already doing, the only way to arrive faster was to come in hotter. That would leave them traveling too fast to dogfight. They'd have to attack the enemy in a series of wide loops.

Still, better to be less effective than to miss the fight altogether. She switched off the engines and coasted, then Needled the supply freighter, instructing it to hold off on its deceleration.

Over the following day, they closed the ETA gap by 137 minutes. She continued to coast; the FinnTech forces would be braking now, allowing them to make up more ground.

Rada had never been in a skirmish involving more than a handful of ships. She ran sim after sim of large-scale combat, but soon realized her individual tactics depended heavily on the orders of the admiral. Though Toman provided her with a basic framework of the planned defense, it was highly dependent on the enemy attack pattern, leaving her with few specifics to practice.

Even so, she found it useful. The scrum of fleet-scale conflict was so chaotic, so tremendous in scope that she sometimes found herself hypnotized, awestruck into inactivity. In time, she trained herself to keep moving no matter how terrifying the action around her.

With 24 hours to ETA, they remained 2 hours and 43 minutes behind the enemy. The
Tine
was braking hard now, fighting to reduce itself to a usable speed. Soon, a green triangle appeared on tactical. The freighter. Rada crept up on it, easing back on her braking. The other ship resolved visually, a brick of flying metal. Computers coordinated the docking procedure; their ships converged until they nearly touched. The freighter fired a metallic tether against the
Tine
's belly, following this in with a flexible, ultra-strong tube. As soon as the connection was in place, it began transferring over magazines of missiles, the weapons arrayed like crayons in a box.

Automated carts hauled the missiles to the
Tine
's batteries and two remaining drones. Finished, the freighter withdrew the tube and the tether and swung away. The ship's systems were plenty capable of sorting and delivering the materiel on their own, but Rada oversaw their progress anyway.

She sent an update to Toman. One of his assistants acknowledged he'd received it. She supposed he had more important things to worry about at that moment. Hours ticked by. She tried to catch some sleep. Knowing they had no hope of arriving before FinnTech, she kept both eyes on the comms.

With 37 minutes until the
Tine
arrived at the Hive, a feed arrived over comms. She glanced at her device. Physical footage overlaid with updating tactical notes. Hair prickled on her arms and the back of her neck. Webber and MacAdams both turned to look at her. Wordless, she transferred the video to the main screen.

The view was from above and behind the Hive. Dozens of fighters and warships were aligned in a loose cloud around the two-part station. Beyond them, separated by thousands of miles of empty space, metal twinkled against the blackness. Well over two hundred points, each one tagged with a small red square indicating an unknown or hostile vessel.

"Please tell me those are missiles," Webber said. "Or drones. Because if that's the FinnTech fleet…"

"Then we don't have a chance?" Rada scanned the oncoming points of light. "If we can take out an alien, then Toman can weather this."

The three of them watched in silence. A minute later, without warning, light flared from across the lines of the incoming ships. Red dots overfilled the screen as a thousand missiles sped toward the defenders.

20

Behind her desk, Kansas' eyes widened. Her hair was swept back from her forehead, each strand in place. She'd wanted to look her best for the upcoming call with Iggi Daniels. Her hand reached for her desk, but seeing it was Ced, she went still.

Her eyes lowered to his simple plastic gun, then lifted to his face. "Is this the best they can do?"

"Don't move." He stepped away from the bathroom door. "We're going to have a talk."

"Do you really want to go through this, Ced? You're going to give your speech. I'm going to say no. Then I'm going to take that gun away, because you don't have the balls to do what needs to be done with it. So why don't we skip to the end?"