Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

-15-

Facing the Stroj again came as something of a shock for my crew. We’d battled them before in the defense of Earth, but we hadn’t expected to encounter them so soon upon beginning to explore the colony worlds.

“Captain Sparhawk,” the pirate said, speaking first. “I recognize you—you were highlighted in many reports after our failed mission to retake Earth.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you,” I said evenly. “I’m glad you apparently have a human brain, however.”

“Is that meant as an insult?” Captain Lorn demanded, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His shoulders whirred and clicked as he moved. “My mind works as well as the full-electrics, I’ll have you know.”

“No insult was intended, sir. I was merely noting that your manner of speech is more natural and fluid than your counterparts with artificial neurology.”

“What of it?” snorted the pirate.

“I think it might be easier to deal with a being whose brain is at least made of flesh. I’ve dealt with a number of your kind, and I’ve found those with biological minds are more neuro-typical.”

Lorn stared at me thoughtfully. I could tell he was surprised at my reactions. Rather than displaying fear and dismay, I was exhibiting personal knowledge of his people. I wanted him to know I could deal with and defeat his kind if necessary. In truth, my guts were roiling inside, but I hid all that and projected the utmost confidence.

“Hmmm,” Lorn said after a pause. “It’s as the nexus calculated. You’re an existential danger to our plans. You must be countered—and if at all possible, excised. I’ll make you a bargain, Captain.”

“I’m always willing to listen to diplomatic offers.”

At that moment, there was a ruckus behind me. Someone pushed past security and rushed to grip the command deck railing.

Lady Grantholm pointed a long finger at the screen. Her finger was shaking and slightly crooked.

“Again Sparhawk? How many ways will you seek to engage in diplomacy without my input?” she raged. “This can only be a plot.”

I wheeled my chair to face her quizzically. “A plot?”

“Yes. You left me back on that station without consideration. I had to beg the Connatic for transport back to
Defiant
. Didn’t you notice I wasn’t there on the pinnace with you while you flew to the ship?”

She had me there. I
had
forgotten about her. The confrontation with Zye, the arrival of this pirate squadron—and most of all, my bittersweet dalliance with the Connatic—had driven all thoughts of my aunt from my mind.

It wouldn’t do to admit this, however.

“I’m sorry, madam,” I said. “My first duty is always to my ship. I rushed here to take up my battle station.”

She stalked around the central deck, moving hand-over-hand along the railing.

“That’s just it,” she said, “you rush to battle, but no battle need occur! I’m here to perform my duty. To create peace where you would only deliver strife and destruction!”

My eyes turned back toward the pirate, who was still there, quietly leering at us from the forward screen. I could see he was following the conflict with intense interest. He wasn’t even saying anything, just listening.

“Captain Lorn,” Grantholm said, turning to the Stroj at last. “I’m Ambassador Grantholm, and I’m empowered to negotiate on Earth’s behalf. I must apologize profusely for any problems Sparhawk may have caused. I would like to offer—”

“Apologies aren’t good enough!” Lorn spat out. “You must concede your claims here. Leave this system, never to return.”

My aunt seemed flustered. “That’s an extreme position,” she said. “We can negotiate—”

“No, we can’t. Not until certain basic conditions are met.”

“I don’t understand your hostile attitude, Captain.”

“Then let me spell it out for you, Ambassador Grantholm. Your fleets drove my people from the Solar System unfairly. It’s our home just as much as it is yours. The system is large, and we could have been accepted as co-owners—but instead, we were attacked and exiled.”

The Ambassador gave me a plaintive look, but I shrugged. I planned to sit back and watch her diplomatic skills in all their glory.

“You started off by infiltrating and attacking us,” she said, returning her gaze to Lorn. “We responded in an act of self-defense.”

“Nevertheless,” Lorn said, “you’re seen as the aggressor by the Stroj. You must therefore make concessions to regain our trust. Are you willing to entertain our proposals?”

My aunt licked her lips. She was rarely nervous, but the stakes were high today. She’d suddenly been thrust into a position that may trigger a fresh restart to a war everyone on Earth had hoped was over.

“Earth doesn’t intend to invade this system,” she said. “We won’t occupy it, or attempt to drive the Stroj from it. Perhaps we should consider this to be neutral territory where both sides can trade with the Gi people as a go-between. It could be a first step toward normalizing relations.”

“Normalizing relations?” Lorn asked incredulously. “For my people, normal relations are those manifest between any slave and their master. The only matter of importance is which of the two roles each side takes. No, if you want peace, you must flee right now.”

Grantholm sucked in a deep breath, and then she gritted her teeth.

“All right,” she said. “We’ll withdraw to Earth. Give my best to your leader, and—”

“Hold on,” said the pirate, leaning forward with predatory excitement. “I require a tribute as well. A trophy.”

Grantholm frowned. “What kind of trophy?”

“It would award me high status if I was able to consume Earth’s ambassador,” Lorn mused, “but I don’t relish adding weathered flesh such as yours to my person. Instead, I want Sparhawk. There’s no more hated name among the Stroj.”

Grantholm began to sputter. Zye stood up angrily. I had to admit, I was alarmed as well—but Lorn wasn’t done with his list of demands yet.

“Further,” he said, “I’ll take the Connatic. I’ve brought many ships this time. Her fighters can’t prevail.”

“The Connatic?” I demanded. “You go too far even to suggest it.”

Lorn looked back to me again. “I thought you were outranked, Sparhawk. Be silent and listen to your mistress.”

“She has no authority to order me to my death. The same can be said of the Connatic.”

“Ah, suddenly, I understand,” the pirate said. “Of course, you favor the woman who commands this battered station. Yes, I watched the vids she broadcast to every citizen of this system. It’s well-known the Connatic recently mated with you, Sparhawk, but I would urge you to overcome your protective emotions.”

“Let’s get back to the point,” Grantholm interrupted. “Complete your list of demands for peace, Captain Lorn.”

“Very well. I want them both. I want their flesh to merge with mine and adorn my body. There are spots on my person that are in need of replacement, they’re beginning to leak and grow fetid. These new infamous shreds of meat will be grafted into those locations. I’ll return to the High Court with a pair of trophies worthy of displaying to anyone!”

No one knew quite what to say—that is, no one other than myself.

“Zye,” I said, “please escort Ambassador Grantholm to her cabin. Her work here is done.”

Grantholm was grabbed rudely. She squawked and clutched at my chair as she was marched away.

I turned to watch her removal.

“This is a diplomatic crisis!” she insisted. “I’m still in command of this mission!”

“I would agree that we’re in a crisis,” I said, “but the matter has been removed from your hands. This pirate has physically threatened both myself and the Connatic. You should recall that you entered into a mutual defense treaty with her only yesterday.”

“You’ll not get away with standing on that thin thread!” she complained.

Zye applied fractionally more pressure to the elderly woman, and she was driven from the deck.

Spinning myself back around, I found the pirate had manufactured a sad face.

“A pity,” he said, “you’re likely to be destroyed before I can overcome your ship. I really wanted to merge with you, Sparhawk. There’s no greater prize in the galaxy.”

“My apologies, Lorn,” I said, “but this discussion is at an end. You’ve chosen the path of war. The record will clearly show that for all time.”

The hunched creature grinned. “We shall see if you’re as good as they say you are, Sparhawk!”

The screen went dark, and the star field returned.

“They’re accelerating Captain,” Yamada said almost immediately. “The raider squadron has shifted into a wedge formation.”

“Sound battle stations. Are the engines ready for battle-speed?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then let’s move out. Put some distance between us and the station. We’ll try to get the Stroj to move between us so we can put them into a crossfire.”

The ship began to lurch and heave under us. The power of
Defiant
was awe-inspiring at times like these. She was greater than she had been when she’d been commissioned by the Betas long ago. The best Earth technology had been applied to improve her. The resulting amalgam of tech from several worlds had created a ship that was unique in its capabilities.

The enemy quickly responded to my maneuvers. They changed course, shifting into an arc that would place my ship in range while staying outside the range of the station. My estimation of Captain Lorn’s capacities rose.

“Captain,” Durris said, “I think we should move around behind the station. Let it serve as a buffer between us and the enemy ships.”

I looked at him, then slid my eyes back to the tactical screens. The Connatic had deployed her fighters in three groups, as she had before. They were wisely hugging up close to the station, no doubt watching the drama that was unfolding outside her walls.

“How quickly we consider throwing our new allies into peril when a serious enemy arrives on the scene,” I commented.

Durris moved closer to my command chair and lowered his voice. “Sir, I urge you not to let your personal feelings interfere with the decisions you must make regarding the survival of this ship.”

Becoming annoyed, I stood up and walked to the tactical planning tables in the back of the command deck. He followed me.

“First Officer Durris,” I said, “have I done anything to suggest my judgment is compromised?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now, please save such fears for a moment when I’ve earned them.”

“Yes sir,” he said, hanging his head. “I was in the wrong. Sorry, sir. The situation is intense.”

“Exactly. That’s when I need you on the top of your game. Now, let’s figure out how best to destroy this force.”

Over the next few minutes, I contacted the Connatic and requested support from her fighters, but she refused. She explained regretfully they were her only defense and she needed every one of them to protect her station. I couldn’t argue in good conscience.

I wasn’t surprised by her reaction in any case. The station was at a disadvantage in this scenario. That was generally the case with any fortification. The ships on both sides could move freely, while she was stuck in place. She couldn’t take the initiative, she could only react.

We worked together on the tactical boards for twenty minutes, gaming out various strategies with the help of the planning computers. The situation was grim.

“We outrange them and outgun them ship-for-ship,” I said. “But there’s no denying the fact they outnumber us.”

No matter how we set up the battle, the computer predicted defeat. Each time the pirates pulled us down like a bear encircled by a pack of wolves. We could take out several, but we could never take them all.

“There’s only one solution, sir,” Durris said. “We must flee.”

I considered it, then rejected the idea. “There are factors at work here aside from the calculations. One of them is morale. These Stroj are humans—at least partly. If we can break their will, they’ll run.”

Striding back to the command chair, a deflated Commander Durris followed me.

“Helm, swing about,” I ordered. “Take us closer to the Stroj forces until we reach maximum range. I want to snipe at them while retreating with our superior speed.”

The ship made a gut-wrenching turn that lasted ten minutes or so. We’d built up enough velocity to transform a course-change into a long, drawn-out affair. The maneuver ended with us making a sunward pass, crossing the path of the pirate ships at an angle.

“Maximum effective range attained,” Zye reported from the weapons board.

“Commence firing. Go easy, give the chambers plenty of time to cool between salvos. We might not hit much anyway.”

She doubled up the timing on the cooling cycle, and the big guns began to release gouts of energy in the direction of the enemy. We were about two million kilometers out. At that range, the beams wouldn’t hit with the same focused power they could muster when close. Still, it would make a good test case. I had no idea how armored the enemy was, or what kind of countermeasures they might possess.