A Show of Force (36 page)

“That would mean they were all bad, right? How is that possible?”

“Oh, my God,” Doctor Galloway exclaimed, her eyes widening as she studied a close-up image of some of the nanites recovered during the autopsy. “These are not our nanites.”

“What?” Doctor Hammond’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, these are not Corinairan nanites.”

“Then whose are they?”

Doctor Galloway looked at Doctor Hammond. “I do not know.”

* * *

“
Captain, communications
,” the voice called over the intercom in Captain Navarro’s office on board the Avendahl.

Captain Navarro set down his tablet and pressed the intercom button. “Go ahead.”

“
Sir, we have received a distress call from the Takaran merchant vessel ‘Willamay’. She is under attack by what they believe to be Ybaran pirates.
”

“Position?”

“
She is en route to Takar from Savoy. Shipping lane one four seven, one point seven two seven light years from Savoy. She was forced to drop out of FTL to raise her shields.
”

“Have the XO meet me in the IIC,” Captain Navarro ordered.

“
Aye, sir.
”

Captain Navarro rose from his desk and exited his office, turning to his left to head for the Avendahl’s Information and Intelligence Center. As with all the critical areas of the Avendahl’s command deck, it was only a few steps from the captain’s office. Unlike the frigates and cruisers on which he had previously served, the sheer size of the Avendahl required many more sub-departments in order to operate smoothly. The result of this was that the captain spent far more time in his office than on the bridge or in the CIC. In fact, there were times when he felt more like a figurehead than the captain of a ship, as the day-to-day operational decisions were made mostly by his junior officers. His main decisions involved when and where to move his ship, and what, if necessary, to do with the power that it was capable of projecting.

Captain Navarro entered the IIC. The room was vast and dimly lit, and like most other operational hubs, the rows of technicians and operators encircled a central platform, with each successive ring outward from center sitting slightly lower. Unlike other compartments, the arrival of a command officer was not announced. The men in this room were constantly busy monitoring communications signals, sensor tracks, and reviewing news reports in the area. With such information, the senior analysts would try to predict the actions of every player, both big and small. From noble houses to trade markets, local socio-economics and politics to interstellar relations, the officers who ran the IIC knew better than anyone what was going on in the Pentaurus cluster, and especially in the Takar system.

“Commander,” Captain Navarro greeted as he approached his executive officer.

The Avendahl’s executive officer, Commander Golan, stood next to Commander Saray at the large display table in the center of the room. “Captain.”

“How much confidence do we have in this distress call?” Captain Navarro asked Commander Saray.

“There have been reports of Ybaran pirates attacking merchant vessels,” the commander admitted. “However, all such reports have come from well outside the Pentaurus cluster. The most recent was an attack on a Volonese ore ship leaving Haven.”

“Takaran forces never confirmed that report,” Commander Golan reminded.

“Correct,” Commander Saray confirmed. “The Haven Corporation claims to have thwarted that attack.”

“Haven Corp are a bunch of thugs,” Captain Navarro commented.

“Also correct,” Commander Saray agreed.

Commander Golan looked at his captain. “I take it you have your doubts as to the authenticity of this distress call?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Captain Navarro replied. “For all we know, Haven Corp are the ones initiating the attacks.” Captain Navarro turned to Commander Saray. “How long will the Willamay’s shields hold out?”

“Ten minutes, maximum,
if
their armaments and numbers are similar to previously reported attacks.”

“I assume that the message was transmitted via one of the Willamay’s jump comm-drones?”

“Correct,” Commander Saray replied. “That was two minutes ago.”

Captain Navarro thought for a second.

“If we leave, and it is a diversion…” Commander Golan began.

“…Then something is going to happen here in the Takar system during our absence. However, we do have a responsibility to protect Takaran merchant ships, and those ships are owned by other noble houses.
Not
taking action to protect them could also fan the flames that are building on Takara.” Captain Navarro took a breath. “Which strike group has the ready duty?”

“Four,” Commander Golan answered.

“Commander Merritt. Good. We can trust him. Scramble the ready group, immediately.”

“The full group?” the XO asked.

“Twelve, six, and two. Instruct them to respond to any illegal movements within the Takar system.”

“Rules of Engagement?”

“Maximum force, but try not to fire the first shot, if possible.”

“Aye, sir,” the XO replied. He picked up a communications handset hanging from the side of the table. “Flight ops, XO.”

“
XO, go for flight ops.
”

“Flight ops, XO. Scramble Ready Four, full group. This is not a drill.”

“
Scramble Ready Four, full group, this is not a drill, aye,
” the flight control officer replied.

“Once Commander Merritt is away, send him his ROE and tell him we will be departing the area for what we
hope
will be a brief time.”

“I take it we’re going to answer the Willamay’s distress call?”

“Correct,” Captain Navarro answered. “Prepare the next ready group. I want them launch capable in five minutes.”

“Aye, sir.”

Captain Navarro picked up another handset. “Bridge, Captain.”

“
Bridge, Lieutenant Commander Hyam,
” the officer of the watch replied over the comms.

“Plot an intercept for the Willamay’s position, and jump us as soon as the ready group is clear.”

“
Intercept jump is already plotted, sir.
”

“Very well,” Captain Navarro replied. “Set action stations on all decks. Execute the jump when ready. I’ll be there shortly.”

“
Aye, sir.
”

The action stations alert klaxon sounded in the corridors outside the IIC, and the condition display on the wall changed to orange, indicating that the ship was readying itself for combat, although it was not yet charging up its most powerful weapons.

“Gentlemen,” Captain Navarro said as he turned to exit the IIC. “Let’s go to work.”

* * *

Captain Nash sat in the wardroom of Scout Three, staring at the time displays over the compartment’s forward hatch. They had been orbiting a hunk of rock and ice nearly a hundred kilometers in diameter located at the outer edges of the Tau Ceti system for a month, waiting for some word from Lieutenant Commander Nash and her team on the surface of Kohara, the most populated of the system’s three inhabited planets.

He had every reason to worry. He had expected them to return more than a week ago, and although their failure to do so did not mean they were in trouble, it did mean that something had not gone according to plan. It was that ‘something’ that bothered him.

Robert Nash had joined the EDF when his sister was still in diapers. Although he had been away for most of her life, he had always made a point of spending as much time as possible with her, and her slightly older brother, whenever he had been able. Still, it had only been recently, since he had been awakened by the Aurora, that they had become close.

Robert tried to tell himself that his little sister was a tough, resourceful woman, and a highly trained special operations agent. She was as qualified as anyone, perhaps more so due to her recent experiences in the field.
How many people did she say she had killed? Thirty? Forty?
It was unfathomable to him, for when he looked at her face, he didn’t see a hardened warrior, capable of killing at a moment’s notice. He still saw that cute little tomboy who was always trying to keep up with her older brothers. He still saw the preteen who would rather listen to him tell stories about life in the Earth Defense Force than hang out in the shopping district with her friends and look at boys.

He looked at the time display again, just as it changed to a new hour. Regardless of his concerns over his little sister’s welfare, he had a job to do. He rose from his seat and headed toward the forward hatch into the EVA compartment. He made his way through the compartment, around the ladder, and then through the next hatchway leading forward, stepping into the systems compartment. “Wellsy, anything?”

Ensign Wells looked at his Captain. “Sorry, sir. Nothing new. Just the same old bullshit broadcasts.”

“Where’s Scalotti?”

“Aft, trying to find a way to boost the gain on the comm dish. We thought that maybe, if their jump sub is damaged and they can’t get back, they might try to send a signal some other way.”

“Did it work?”

“So far, we can just hear the same bullshit, but better.”

Captain Nash took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, we can’t wait any longer. They’ll just have to fend for themselves until the battle is over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wake the rest of them up, Wellsy,” Captain Nash said as he ascended the ladder to the flight deck. “It’s time to head home.”

* * *

“Captain on the bridge,” the guard at the entrance to the Avendahl’s bridge announced as Captain Navarro entered.

“Strike Group Four is away, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Hyam reported. “Jump board is green, all stations report ready for action.”

“Very well,” Captain Navarro replied as he took his seat in the middle of the large circular room. “Status of the second ready group?”

“Strike Group One is on deck and ready to launch,” the flight operations officer reported from behind the captain. “Strike Groups Two and Three are on standby.”

“Attention all hands,” the jump control officer called over the ship-wide address system, “Prepare to jump in ten seconds.”

Captain Navarro could hear the voices of the section controllers on the next ring of controllers below the primary level, as each reported their readiness for the jump to the officer in control of that particular level.

“Jumping in three……two……one……jump.”

As usual, nothing spectacular occurred on the Avendahl’s bridge. Without any view of the outside, their only indication of the jump was a sudden spike in the output levels of the twelve hundred emitters on the Avendahl’s outer hull. A slight shift in the measured distances to certain stars used as navigational markers provided confirmation that a jump had indeed occurred, and that the Avendahl was now located in a different region of space.

“Transition complete,” the jump control officer reported confidently.

“Position verified,” the Avendahl’s navigator, Lieutenant Sturvont reported. “One point seven two seven light years from the Savoy system, with shipping lane one four seven fifteen hundred kilometers to port, twenty down relative.”

“Sensor contacts,” Lieutenant Cahnis reported. “The Willamay, and six other targets. Fast movers. Initial profile suggests either Ybaran or Palean design. They are attacking the Willamay. Her shields are at twenty percent and falling.”

“Launch Ready One,” Captain Navarro ordered.

“Launching Ready One,” the flight operations officer acknowledged.

“Notify Ready One strike leader that they are to dispatch the attackers with maximum force and take up escort of the Willamay until our return,” Captain Navarro continued.

“Estimated time of return?” the flight operations officer inquired.

“Unknown. We will dispatch a jump tanker if delayed.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Communications, let the Willamay know that help is forthcoming.”

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer replied.

“Strike Group One is launching now,” the flight control officer reported. “All elements will be away in two minutes.”

“Very well,” Captain Navarro replied. “Lieutenant Sturvont, prepare a jump back to the Takar system. We will return as soon as Strike Group One is clear.”

“Preparing a jump back to Takaran space,” the navigator acknowledged.

“The Willamay’s shields are down to twelve percent,” the sensor officer reported.

“The first fighters will be in attack position in thirty seconds,” the flight control officer added, knowing that it would be the captain’s next question.

“New contact,” Lieutenant Cahnis announced. “Frigate. Two hundred kilometers. Ten to port, forty-two up relative.” The sensor officer turned to face Captain Navarro, surprise on his face. “It’s the Clarkson, sir.”

“What?” the captain said, equally surprised. “The Clarkson was lost during the attacks on Takara by the Alliance. The Aurora destroyed her!”

“It’s the Clarkson, Captain, I’m sure of it.”

“Bonvaneer! That greedy old bastard!” Captain Navarro exclaimed. “Charge the main guns! Target the Clarkson!”

“Captain, what if she’s here to help?”

“After having been missing all this time? Not likely.”

“The Clarkson is firing!”

“Shields up!” Captain Navarro ordered.

“Raising shields,” the defense systems control officer replied.

“Charging main guns,” the weapons officer reported. “Targeting the Clarkson.”

“Communications. Warn the Clarkson,” Captain Navarro said. “Stand down or be destroyed. You have thirty seconds to comply.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Strike Group One is away,” the flight control officer announced.

The first blast of energy struck the Avendahl’s forward shields, causing no more than a mild shaking of the deck beneath Captain Navarro’s feet.

“She’s firing again,” Lieutenant Cahnis reported.

“Main guns at full power,” the weapons officer announced.

“Time?” the captain asked.

“Ten seconds.”

“Hold your fire for ten seconds,” the captain ordered as the Avendahl vibrated from the impact of the Clarkson’s second shot.

“Our fighters have destroyed the attacking ships,” Lieutenant Cahnis reported.

“The Clarkson’s captain must be an idiot,” the weapons officer commented. “He doesn’t stand a chance against our weapons.”

“Can she make FTL again?” Captain Navarro asked his sensor officer.

“Doubtful, she’s lost too many emitters,” Lieutenant Cahnis answered. “The Clarkson is turning away and accelerating at her maximum rate. They’re firing again.”

“Thirty seconds has passed, Captain,” the communications officer reported.