Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Pursuit (8 page)

BOOK: Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Pursuit
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Web felt a subtle surge as the ship made
a course correction in hyperspace.  Even with the most powerful computers
intelligent beings were allowed to use, calculating course changes while
operating well beyond the speed of light was a tricky matter, and adjustments
were limited to a handful of degrees on any axis while in hyper.  It took a
real mechanical nut to feel the change, and Web figured Loren was the only
other person he knew that would have noticed. 

He pushed around the cooling remnants of
his lunch, unconsciously sorting them by degree of likelihood that he would
finish the various food items on the worn metal serving tray.  The food was
actually better than he'd expected, and he was about to take one last bite of a
stewed steak when the ship lurched and his stomach dropped down to the
decking.  A wave of nausea flashed through him as the ship shuddered and
screeched, emitting a tortured wail right through its keel.

Web shook his head and squeezed his eyes
shut, grabbing onto the edges of the table and willing the disorientation
away.  He heard several crew in the mess hall throw up their just-eaten meal,
and as the nausea passed a new uneasy feeling took hold.  The only reason for
the ship's behavior was an uncommanded, involuntary reversion to realspace. 
That meant either the engines had suffered a catastrophic failure or the
Venturer had been purposely pulled out of hyper.  The engines were in great
shape; he'd hacked into the ship's diagnostics and could verify that himself. 
That only left one thing.

He got up and staggered over to the small
pair of viewports in the forward bulkhead.  Web craned his neck, twisting his
head around and pressing his face to the transparent armor of the viewport in
order to scan local space.

And, finally, the culprit came into
view.  It was not one ship, but three that he could see.  Two smaller, corvette
sized ships accompanying a huge cargo ship much like the Solar Venturer.  There
were no hull markings, no running lights.  What Web
did
notice, though, were the single barrel military-grade laser
batteries that each of the corvettes sported a pair of.  And they were all
training on the Venturer.

"Oh hell," he muttered as he
rested his forehead against the viewport.  "Can't anything just go easy
for me?"

 

 

Loren, Merritt and Cory had spent hours
poring over all the old records the librarian had brought to them.  He'd
disappear for a half hour at a time, then arrive with another armload of books,
manuscripts, data pads, and access links to the more modern archives the
library had to offer.  Getting through it was slow going and tedious, the
simple volume of data making it hard to know what was important and what was
irrelevant.

The librarian returned with only a few
data pads this time.  "Sorry to say," he began, "but I'm running
out of places to look."  He set the pads down in front of Loren, who
looked up wearily.  He leaned back and rubbed his eyes, then scrubbed his face
with his hands. 

"That's good, right?" Loren
asked.  "You dug up everything that's left.  Thank you."

The librarian simply nodded.  He made as
if to turn, then seemed to change his mind.  "Would you mind if I sat down
for a minute?" he asked politely.

"We're boring company," Loren
said with a fatigued grin, "but stay as long as you'd like."  He
gestured to the several open seats on the opposite side of the table from where
he was sitting, and the librarian chose one and sat down.

"I never introduced myself, which is
quite rude," the librarian began with a dour face.  "My name is Elir,
and I've worked here for almost twenty years.  We don't get many people doing
Priman research around here, even with the war on."

Loren marked his place in the book of
star charts he was studying and put his hands on the table.  "I'm Loren,
this is Cory and Merritt," he said as he pointed to his fellow officers.

"If you're not from Reshing, might I
ask where you are from?"

"I'm from Toral, Cory's from
Lavarra, and Merritt..." Loren drifted off as he tried to describe
Merritt's early life mining asteroids with his parent's company.  "Well,
he's from deep space."

Elir just looked at Merritt quizzically. 

"I sprung forth," Merritt began
theatrically, "fully clothed and grown from the cold heart of a dead star
and immediately began to exact my vengeance upon the universe."  Elir
continued to stare at Merritt, who finally just shrugged.  "My parents
owned a mobile asteroid mining complex."

"Ah," said Elir as he nodded,
as if that explained everything, and stood up.  "If you're all set for a
while, I'll take my leave and see to my other chores.  I'll check in a bit
later, and if you need me you can always find me by heading to the large common
area where we first met."

"I think we're growing on him,"
said Cory optimistically.

CHAPTER
5

 

 

 

 

"I have new directives from the
Primans," said Enric Shae neutrally as he sat down in front of Senator Zek
Dennix's desk.  The Senator groaned softly, then leaned back in his chair and
waved for Shae to continue as his chair made seemingly the same anguished
sound.  Perhaps in sympathy to his plight? 
Not even my chair is on my side anymore
, the senator thought sourly.

It was late at night, as were most all of
their more clandestine planning sessions.  Even though the capitol city never
really slept, there were times long after darkness fell, when all of Dennix's
office staff was gone and the lights were turned down, when it felt more
appropriate to be discussing things of this nature.

"The Primans want an engagement
between the loyal Confed forces and the Secessionists," Shae continued. 
He placed a small data cube on the polished and empty surface of the huge
desk.  Dennix just kept looking at Shae, who continued.  "They know that
despite the animosity between the two sides of the civil war-"

"It's not a civil war!" Dennix
interrupted forcefully.  "It's a policy dispute, and don't you forget to
call it that when the press asks."  Though Dennix still held sway over
most of the media outlets, there was the occasional journalist who'd manage to
sneak into a presser and start asking awkward questions before they could be
removed.

"Of course," Shae continued
easily, "the policy dispute.  They are a bit upset that there have been no
major developments.  They expected disarray, fighting and the associated loss
of personnel and equipment which would aid in their goals, which, incidentally,
aids in your goal of staying in power."  Shae reached forward and plucked
the data cube from the desk's surface.  "On here is our latest directive,
sent from the Commander's staff personally.  It was in one of the usual places
where I receive my dead-drops from them."

"Assume I'll watch it later and give
me the first page of the brief," commanded Dennix, growing more annoyed by
the day at the amount of authority Enric Shae seemed to think he had and the
apparent validity those thoughts were given by their Priman handlers.

"There's a Secessionist outpost
relatively close to Talaran space, where both sides of Confed and the Talaran's
borders all converge.  They want that outpost destroyed in order to reduce the
possibility of supply line raids from forces using that location as a staging
area."  Shae paused for a second, as if the next bit actually had some
sort of effect on him instead of his usual cold and emotionless demeanor. 
"They want a decisive engagement, Senator.  They want us to engage the
Secessionists, and only one side of this is expected to come out the back end
of the fight."

Dennix just glowered even more, something
Shae hadn't thought possible.  "We knew they were just eating this up;
Confed breaking apart under those traitors who don't want to follow the rules
of their legitimate government," Dennix said darkly.  "But I expected
that this dispute alone was enough to suit their purpose; keep Confed
distracted from Priman matters, and eventually we'd sort it out ourselves. 
Then the Primans come back, we settle the war for good, I stay in charge of
what we have left, and everybody moves on with their lives.  People should be
dancing in the streets that the Primans would leave us alone to be independent
under my committee, but instead a sizable chunk of Confed turned their backs on
us."

Dennix looked up at Shae, finally
regaining a little bit of spark after the venting.

"So, what's supposed to make this
engagement any different than the rest?  The navies always try their best to
stay away from each other."

Shae shifted in his seat again, something
still clawing at him in a way that made Dennix nervous.

"They want me to go with our naval
forces," Enric began, "as an observer, a guarantee that they can't
just return and say conditions weren't favorable for a fight.  Your official
representative, to make sure your orders get carried out."

           

           

Loren, Merritt and Cory spent the rest of
the afternoon and early evening in the library until they were informed by Elir
that the building was closing.  By the time the trio returned to Avenger,
Captain Elco had already left for the surface and a small formal dinner with
some of the Reshing government's diplomats, to be followed by a personal
briefing on everything Confed was willing to share on the Priman invasion and
efforts to stop them.

They'd returned the next day to find Elir
waiting for them, piles of materials sorted into categories for them to start
working on.  Though they'd discovered a great many interesting facts, none of
them were truly mind-shattering or information that they didn't already know in
some form.  Still, it gave them a few new insights and Loren felt the time had
been well spent. 

After saying their goodbyes, they'd
returned to Avenger and Captain Elco had ordered the ship off to its next stop
on their itinerary.

Far out in the Reshing system, a small
force of three Priman ships waited, powered to their lowest reactor settings
and simply watching, waiting.  While Captain Vol would have loved to bring a
task force of a dozen ships, the Priman operational plan didn't include war in
this particular part of the galaxy yet, and so they were keeping their forces
small in order to try and stay off the grid until the time was right; no need
to bring anyone into the fight against them early. 

They saw Avenger break orbit and head off
on the vector of the next system on their list.  An hour later, after playing
by the rules and slowly clearing all traffic lanes and gravity wells, the
Confed ship dashed into hyperspace.

Aboard the Priman cruiser Vigilance, a
new-build vessel with integrated torpedo tubes, Captain Vol smiled at
Representative Ravine.  "It appears our intel is accurate,
Representative," he said darkly.

Ravine smiled in return.  "I believe
it's time to put your plan into action then."

Captain Vol turned to his navigator. 
"Set course for the Carada Monarchy."  He shifted in his chair to
talk to Ravine.  "We'll let them land on the Kingdom's capital planet, and
when they leave we'll be on their exit vector.  That will give us maximum time
to get our own work done; we'll have much less risk of the local forces
blundering into us if we engage when Avenger is leaving the system."

"I look forward to it."

           

 

"All hands, to your stations,"
Web heard the captain's voice over the ship's intercom.  "We've been
pulled out of hyper by pirates who are maneuvering to board.  Stand by ship's
weapons."

Web needed to get to the cargo control
area amidships, so he turned and ran down the corridors, passing up some of the
crew who were still getting control over their own stomachs again.

As he turned a corner, he almost ran into
Halley, and she stopped by bracing her hands on his shoulders.

"What the hell?" Web asked.

"No idea," she replied
quickly.  "Just get to your station and keep an eye on these people.  I'm
supposed to go to the bridge and watch the engine repeater displays.  If things
head down the sewer pipes, we'll meet in your quarters!"

And with that, she took off running.

 

 

Halley arrived at the bridge at the same
time as the captain, a burly Trin by the name of
Two-Swords
(whose family name had been changed following Trin
tradition after a great conflict many generations ago) who looked like he'd
been commanding ships for a few hundred years or so.  He gestured for her to go
first, then quickly stomped to the command consoles where the First Officer was
already standing. 

"What's going on out there?"
the captain asked. 

The First Officer, a Drisk woman of much
younger age than Halley had been expecting when she'd first hacked the ship's
crewmember database to review the crew, turned to her captain and gave the grim
news.  Lirik Daemon was no stranger to tense situations. She'd been on all of
the more exotic runs the company had to offer; hazard pay and the chance to
test herself were things she craved.  This was just any old day for her. 
"We're being hailed by the ships, Captain," she began.  "They're
broadcasting on all the usual channels, even our company frequency."

"It seems they want to talk,"
he mused.  He looked right at Halley.  "What of our engines and
weapons?"

Halley had already surveyed the systems
and spoke without consulting her screens.  "Engines are fine; a little hot
from the forced reversion, but within tolerances.  There's a huge gravity well
around us, though, so they either have a minefield or one of those picket ships
is nothing but a gravity generator with some engines welded onto the sides.  As
for our guns, they're not showing up at all on the boards."

"We've already broken them down,
Captain," said First Officer Daemon.  "We were following Priman
policy and so most of the major components are removed and stored."

"How long to reassemble them?"
asked Captain
Two-Swords
.  "They're big enough to handle these
three."

"It took hours to disassemble,
Captain," said Daemon sullenly.  "I doubt they'll give us that much
time."

A colored box began flashing repeatedly
on one of the screens at the command station.

"They've locked weapons onto the
engines," the captain replied softly.  He took several steps over to the
communications officer, who stepped out of the way as the captain tapped the
screen.

"This is Captain
Two-Swords
of the Solar Venturer, a registered
cargo ship out of the Andreas Cluster.  What is this all about?"

"Captain," a smooth but
commanding male voice responded.  "Your course shows you bound for
Callidor, a Priman held system.  We'll be boarding your ship to relieve you of
your more valuable cargo before you finish your trip.  If you cooperate, we'll
only take the cargo.  Resist, and we'll take your ship as well as your lives. 
We're sending over launches; decide right now whether we board shooting or
talking."

Captain Two-Swords looked around the
bridge.  This was a decent crew, capable in deep space and masterful at their
tasks, but they were at their essence a cargo crew.  Not Confed navy officers,
not combat veterans or mercenaries; he wouldn't ask them to fight to the death
for the company's cargo.  He
couldn't
ask.  He didn't take more than a couple
seconds to respond.

"I'll meet you at the starboard
forward docking port."

 

 

"The Carada Monarchy," began
Captain Elco.  He sat at his place at the head of the port side briefing table
behind C3 on the deck below the bridge of Avenger, "consists of eight
different solar systems.  The people are humanoid; hairless, a few extra
fingers, the usual little differences, but nothing like a Quipal with all those
legs, of course.  They're ruled by a royal family and have been for the last
two thousand years.  Central control is on their home planet, Carada Prime. 
Each planet is ruled by a member of the immediate family, with various dukes,
duchesses, princes, and other family members controlling smaller territories,
orbitals, that sort of thing.  They've managed to make it work pretty well,
too, according to all the data we have."

Loren, the only other one present,
shifted in his seat as he searched for a better view of the data on the table's
surface as it scrolled by.  "So what does Admiral Bak have in mind for us
here?" he asked.

"The next two locations on the
itinerary are worlds where AI support is very high, either openly or through
various fringe groups."

"So which one are we dealing with
here?"

"Well, the royal family has done
pretty well by listening to the people, and a lot of folks here are pretty open
to the idea of AI technology.  As far as we know, they're still following the
AI Accords, but they do it more out of an interest in galactic relations than a
deep-seated problem with AIs in general.  The Kingdom never got to the point of
advanced AI before everyone started signing onto the treaties banning their
use.  As a result, the Carada Monarchy is known for developing some of the most
advanced legal computer intelligences in the galaxy."

"Alright," said Loren easily. 
"Who are we after?"

"Admiral Bak has arranged for us to
travel to the surface of their capital planet so we can attend a product
demonstration.  He's told them we are acting as representatives of the Confed
navy and we're hoping to use their advanced technology to acquire a way for our
torpedoes to see through the Priman countermeasures once and for all." 
Elco leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands grasped together.  "You
and I both know that General Horle gave Confed some very advanced Lemurian
adaptive scanning technology.  Hell; the upgrades are in our torpedoes right
now.  However, nobody else outside of some the senior leaders knows this.  So,
as far as anyone knows, we're here for a sales pitch.  We tour the factory, I
give them our sad story about the Primans, and you take Merritt and Cory and
mingle.  Hell, you can talk freely about AIs; it's not a taboo topic here. 
Just see where it takes you."

BOOK: Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Pursuit
5.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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