Drysine Legacy (The Spiral Wars Book 2) (18 page)

“But you say sard ship are advanced?” Captain Jen pressed.

“Very advanced,” Erik agreed. “
Phoenix
was challenged.”

Captain Jen blinked. “Three sard ships not normal to… to challenge
Fee-nix
?”

Erik shook his head. “No. Not normally. Do you have any idea how the sard might have such advanced ships?”

“Not know,” Jen muttered. “Very bad, this news. Tavalai… ten years ago? All this, tavalai everywhere.” He waved a hairy, long-fingered hand at the station view. “Tavalai ship, big warship. Sard come here, sard space close, but sard scared tavalai. Fear tavalai, yes?”

“Yes,” Erik agreed. “Tavalai gave sard ships, guns, everything. Tavalai understand sard, no one else does.”

Jen nodded vigorously. “Yes, this. Just this. But now, tavalai go. No more tavalai, tavalai lose war to human.” With an accusing stare. “And now, sard here, sard there, sard everywhere. Now you say advanced sard, big sard ship. This very bad. If human no come here? No come to Kazak? Sard take Kazak, you bet. Bad news for human too, yes?”

“You’re barabo fleet?” Erik asked. “Barabo military?”

Captain Jen nodded without enthusiasm. “Am that. Soldier.”

“Why can’t
you
fight sard? This is barabo space, but barabo don’t fight for it.”

The barabo’s wide mouth turned down in a jaw-grinding frustration. “Because barabo like party,” he said bitterly. “Barabo like fun, like good time, barabo no like fight. Some barabo fight — me, friend captain, friend crew. Few barabo, only few. Other barabo not come. Barabo government give us no money, yes? We three ship here, Joma Station base. Good ship, tavalai ship. But not big ship. Fast, but small gun — you see.”

Erik nodded. He had seen — they were tukala-class cruisers, agile and fast, and relatively cheap to produce in large numbers. But even all three on Joma Station weren’t a serious threat to
Phoenix
, and most tukala-class captains they’d run into in the war had had the sense to stay clear where possible.

“You know,” Kaspowitz said conversationally, “there are humans who say that if history had turned out differently, humans could be a lot like barabo. Not fighting much, mostly self-interested. Earth was very self-interested, lots of old civilisation that found itself far more interesting than anything else out in space.”

Captain Jen nodded solemnly. “But Earth destroy.”

“Yes. You had the tavalai for neighbours, so you never had to fight for anything. We had the krim.” He shrugged. “And so we never stopped fighting, one thousand years and more. And with all our old roots destroyed, we had nothing to look back at, we could only look forward. Expansion and conquest became how we measured our progress. Military success, defeating our enemies. That’s all our history. So don’t be sad that you’re not like us. A strong military is good, but we had to pay a terrible price to get one.”

“And barabo going to pay bad price without one,” Jen replied. There was real fear in his dark eyes. But not cowardice, because this fear was not for himself. “I sorry ‘bout Earth. In my culture, we speak of great sorrow, we drink to ancestors or they get angry with us.” He raised his teacup. “Earth, ri-jen guhar ari-jen.”

He drank, and they all copied. Erik was touched, and saw his fellow officers felt the same. He indicated to Kaspowitz’s bag with his eyes, suggestively.

“Oh, speaking of drinking,” said Kaspowitz, and unzipped the bag. He pulled out one of the bottles they’d been saving for these situations, and presented it to Stationmaster Rang Gan, who had been quietly listening. Rang Gan leaned forward to peer at the bottle from within bristling dreadlocks and thick beard. In many barabo cultures, a head like a giant bird’s nest was a sign of dignified age and learning, for men at least. And sometimes for women.

“What drink?” asked the Stationmaster.

“It’s called whisky. It’s made from grain, very old recipe, it goes back to an Earth-place called Britain, one and a half thousand years ago. The grains were brought into space with us, and this one was made on New Punjab in William’s System, by the same old recipe.”

Rang Gan’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands and spoke on coms. Quickly some drinking glasses were brought, and the whisky poured for all.
Phoenix
officers were not supposed to drink on duty, but sometimes foreign customs demanded that rule be slightly bent. A sip, and Rang Gan’s eyes lit up even more. Barabo did love a drink, and this tale of an ancient drink from long-lost Earth was irresistable to those who considered themselves cultured. They talked for a while of human drinks and barabo drinks, and all agreed that this could be a great luxury trade between human and barabo.

And then, once the level of the bottle had dropped a little more, Erik leaned forward in his chair, and smiled at the older man. “Now, Stationmaster. We have noticed that on
Phoenix
’s portion of the docks, there are currently very few security personnel. Do you think we could see this situation addressed? Better that your people keep the civilians away, with their small guns, than we do it with our big guns.”

“
R
ang Gan good man
,” said Captain Jen as they left the office through the lobby of busy barabo at big display screens. A work crew were noisily discussing ongoing station work on a huge technical hologram, hard hats and safety vests amidst more formal barabo office robes. “But quiet man. No push hard, no make trouble.”

“Hmm,” said Erik, eyeing the activity as they walked. “Could be a problem in a station like this? I notice construction is far behind schedule.”

Jen smiled humourlessly. “Everyone notice. Station damn scared. Big business here, big money, but with tavalai gone, no defence. Saying among my people — when tree branch bend, smallest person seem biggest weight. Many barabo sitting on tree branch, see? Hungry animal below. Big barabo want throw small barabo off branch, make branch not break, even though small barabo make small weight. Big barabo hope hungry animal eat him last, yes?”

His gaze fixed on Erik with hard meaning. Erik nodded slowly. “I think I understand. Thank you for the warning.”

“And you have more that whisky? My ship take donation.” With a very barabo grin.

Erik grinned back. “Make you a trade. You give me a bottle of your best barabo drink, I get you whisky.”

“Good,” Jen agreed. They shook hands, barabo-style. “Good travel,
Fee-nix
.”

“Good travel,
Rai Jang
.”

They left the main lobby heading opposite ways, into a heavily-trafficked hallway with busy barabo offices on all sides. “I’m not sure I understood that warning,” Dufresne said cautiously, as Gunnery Sergeant Brice and half of First Squad took position in front. “He was warning that the Stationmaster would toss us to the sard?”

“Worse than that,” Erik said grimly. “Joma Station wants humans to take over protection for Kazak where the tavalai left off. That means Fleet. If Fleet wants us dead, Fleet could pay the Stationmaster, and he’d facilitate that however he liked.”

“Wait a moment… Captain Jen
works
for the Stationmaster, doesn’t he?”

“Now you see what he’s warning us.”

“Damn,” Dufresne murmured.

“Everything’s ‘damn’ out here,” said Kaspowitz.

“LC,”
came Second Lieutenant Abacha’s voice on com override.
“I have priority scan, jump entry, one new signal, looks like combat velocity. Trajectory is straight for Rhea, looks like it came from Sector-Q18, Navcomp says about nine marked possibilities in that direction, Nav is processing them now.”

“I copy that Scan,” said Erik, not breaking stride. Alomaim gave the signal for everyone to walk faster, listening as they all were. “Tell me the moment you have firm ID.”

“Yessir. Sir, Scancomp says ninety-nine percent match, tavalai combat carrier, ibranakala-class.”
And Erik’s heart skipped a beat. If there was one class of ship in all the galaxy that could nearly match
Phoenix
ton-for-ton, it was the tavalai’s major combat carrier. In the war, the appearance of an ibranakala-class on scan would send a cold shiver up the spines of any human crew watching.

“Lieutenant Alomaim!” Erik called ahead. “Priority recall now, let’s get to a shuttle berth!” And they broke into a run without Alomaim even needing to order, heading for the nearest express elevator cluster. “
Phoenix
I am on priority recall, get me a shuttle to the nearest berth immediately, Lieutenant Alomaim is coordinating.”

“Copy LC.”

“LC, this is Draper. Incoming mark is retaining V for the moment. Estimate that at current V it will reach minimum attack-response distance in five minutes. I’ve sounded full available crew recall. Please advise further.”

Erik knew he could order Draper to wait until he and all
Phoenix
crew were back aboard. The actual minimum response time was twenty-two minutes, but that was only if they were going to run away. To actually hold this position, to turn into the attack and engage it, put the five-minute minimum into play. Joma Station’s position on the Rhea gravity slope was strategically poor, and any defending ship had to use those extra seventeen minutes to burn hard for position clear of the gravity well. If
Phoenix
were going to run, they could all do that together, falling into Rhea’s gravity well for a slingshot escape. But if they were going to fight, Lieutenant Draper would have to do that alone.

“Five minutes, I copy Lieutenant.” Giving life-or-death orders while running wasn’t easy. “We’re not going to make it back in five minutes. If that mark does not dump V, you are to break dock and make a circular flank. Get in contact with Joma Station defensive cruisers, see if they’ll come with you.”

“Aye sir. Request permission to retain second-shift crew, minus Lieutenant Dufresne.”

They arrived at a big bank of elevator doors, marines forming a cordon around the largest and simply pushing waiting civvies out of the way. “It’s your ship Lieutenant Draper. Use whomever you want.” As
Phoenix
spacers and marines stood before the elevators and watched impatiently for the next car.

“Come on, come on,” someone muttered, watching the approaching elevator. The smaller one arrived first, but it wasn’t express, and would stop at too many floors. They were at the top of the rim, and the shuttle dock at the bottom was a long way down. Wary barabo got on, pleased to be away from armed and alarmed humans.

“PH-4 is incoming,” Alomaim reported. “ETA two minutes. She’s going to have to wait.” That was Tif, probably she’d been on midships standby, with PH-1 off on its mission to Vola Station.

“Draper shouldn’t try to take an ibranakala-class alone,” Dufresne muttered. “Even with our barabo friends as support… sir, we’ve no guarantee they’ll even help, tavalai have always been their friends and protectors.”

Erik nodded. “I know.” No one even bothered to contemplate that the tavalai might not be hostile. It was entirely possible, but the consequence of complacency in this case was certain death, and they had no choice but to assume the worst. The elevator arrived and some alarmed barabo got off, sidling between the armoured marines. Other barabo who had not been intending to get off were convinced otherwise, and the
Phoenix
crew got on amidst shouts of barabo displeasure.

“Sir, I think he should wait for us so we can run,” Dufresne added amidst the tight crush in the elevator. Erik was not keen on running. They’d all worked so hard to get here, and to run before they’d achieved any of their goals would hurt.

“Watch your resistance guys,” Alomaim warned his marines, meaning that the light-armoured officers could get accidentally hurt by sudden movements from powered-armour.

“We don’t have to make that decision just yet,” Erik told Dufresne as the doors closed. But preferably very soon, and while
Phoenix
was still nose-to-dock. Once she left, Draper would be undisputed commander-on-deck, and could do whatever he wanted. Erik resisted the temptation to glance at Dufresne. Never had the matter of who sat the second-shift command chair seemed as urgently important as now.

The elevator hummed downward, skipping a whole bunch of minor floors as it headed for the dock level.
“Sir, it’s Abacha. Mark just dumped V.”
An audible sigh of relief within the elevator. To Erik it felt as though a 10-G burn had just ended, that sudden gasp of wonderful lightness.
“Scan now has firm ID — ibranakala-class confirmed. Still no transponders, it appears to be on high alert… sir… sir one more dump, they’ve slowed right down.”

“
Phoenix
this is the LC,” said Erik, trying hard to keep the relief from his voice, for Draper’s benefit. “Maintain orange alert status, I will be returning to
Phoenix
aboard PH-4 ASAP. First-shift will then resume command, and I want all spacer crew on-ship and prepared for undock.”

“Aye sir,”
said Draper.

“Major Thakur, do you copy?”

“The Major copies LC.”

“I want three platoons on-ship, I want two to remain on station for now to secure our holdings here. Joma Station has value to the tavalai as well. If we keep it occupied, we may dissuade hostile action toward
Phoenix.
”

“Aye LC, we are mobilising now.”
Because two platoons of marines were probably enough to capture this station’s bridge and other keypoints, given the total lack of serious military force here. Erik did not like to hold a station hostage in the face of a threat, but it was a common enough tactic with carriers. In strategic and economic terms, warships were expendable, but space stations were not.

“This is kind of like Talyrai Station,” Kaspowitz volunteered. “Were you on
Phoenix
then?”

“Yes,” said Erik, mildly offended that Kaspowitz had forgotten. “I rode the whole thing out in quarters, as usual.”