Freehold (21 page)

One standard week, two hours, four minutes and fifteen seconds later, the little fleet came out of hyperspace not far from a nav beacon. Like all its kind, the beacon continually jumped from normal space to hyperspace and back at regular intervals, while maintaining the same relative position in space. Each beacon emitted its own unique code. That way, the beacons could be located by ships in both normal space and hyperspace, aiding them in navigation, and identifying safe entry and exit points. Of course, any ship that so desired could make a random hyperspace shift, but that entailed a certain amount of risk. You could come out right in the middle of a sun, for example. So with the exception of some scouts and prospectors, everyone used the nav beacons. All of this made them the perfect spot for an ambush. If you knew where someone was going, all you had to do was look up the location of the nearest beacon, put your forces around it, and wait. Knowing that, Stell's entire fleet was closed up and at battle stations as the ships came out of hyperspace. Proximity alarms, sensors, and humans alike all shrieked warnings as they entered normal space and found themselves surrounded by a much larger fleet.

“Stand by for evasive action! I want max power to the screens and all weapons on line. Hold for my order.” Captain Boyko snapped the orders out, her dark eyes flicking from one screen to the next, checking, analyzing, planning.

“We have an incoming ship-to-ship transmission, audio and video, Captain,” a com tech said.

Boyko looked at Stell, who nodded. “Pipe it to the observation deck,” she ordered.

As the com screen came to life, Stell found himself looking at the perfect features of Lady Almanda Kance-Jones. She smiled, seeing confirmation of her beauty in his eyes. “We meet once more, General. I wish it were under more fortunate circumstances. As a representative of Intersystems Incorporated, I am of course eager to see you market your thermium, thereby generating the funds necessary to pay us. I even thought to meet you here, having received word that you would soon come; but alas, when I arrived the ships you see around you were already here. As you've probably deduced, they are pirate ships.” She shrugged eloquently.

Stell couldn't help but be amused by the transparent effrontery of her story. But should the pirates fail to steal the thermium, she would have officially separated herself from them, and could pretend innocence. The fact that she had spies on Freehold annoyed but didn't surprise him. He replied with mock gravity.

“Well, we certainly appreciate your thoughtfulness, and hope you aren't inconvenienced by all the exploding pirate ships.”

She frowned. “What exploding—” She never finished her sentence, because at that moment two of the pirate vessels exploded in a searing flash of light. Her image disappeared from the screen as all hell broke loose. On Stell's signal, the
Zulu, Shona,
and
Masai
had launched every torpedo they could. It was a pitiful attack by conventional naval standards, but it had the advantage of surprise, and two pirate skippers had paid heavily for their overconfidence. But Stell's convoy was still outnumbered, four to one, and now the pirates were attacking with a vengeance. Energy beams leaped across space to splash against the brigade's defensive screens. Enemy torpedoes wove in and out, dodging defensive fire to explode, one after another, against the protective cocoon of energy that surrounded the ships. The screens were holding, but it was only a matter of time before the pirates managed to beat them down.

Boyko looked at him questioningly. Stell shook his head. “Hold as long as you can. I want ’em even closer.”

“You wait much longer, General, and they'll be sitting in your lap!” the naval officer replied sharply. Her lips were a straight line and her eyes flashed. She was speaking on a sealed intercom channel that excluded her crew. “You'd better hope your plan works, or we're history.”

“Thank you for your analysis, Captain,” Stell replied calmly. “I suspect you won't have to wait much longer.” And with that he turned his eyes back to the screens where the battle raged. The pirate strategy was obvious—get past the escorts and capture the transports. He saw the pirate ships getting steadily bolder, coming closer with each pass as the pirate commanders realized that, though their opponents had powerful defensive screens, they carried very little offensive weaponry and it was fairly safe to go around and between them. He would wait just a little bit longer before he made his move.

Aboard the light cruiser
Avenger,
Brother Mustapha Infam Drago swore at the screens above him, and hit the command channel override key. “Ignore those flying relics, brethren, and go for those they protect. It's there we'll find what we seek.” He nodded to his pilot, who put the ship into a long, graceful curve, calculated to intersect with the centermost ship of the small opposing fleet. Drago allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he saw the pirate fleet obey his orders, and swoop by the three lumbering escorts to attack the core of the brigade's formation. Then, slowly, the smile began to fade as his eyes darted this way and that. Something was wrong. It was too easy. He was just about to hit the command channel override when Stell sprang his trap.

“Tell Falco to kick some ass for me,” Stell said quietly. Captain Boyko wasted no time in transmitting his order to the
Nest.
The carrier was located at the center of the fleet, where the cargo carriers would normally be. Hatches slid smoothly open, and the black, dart-like shapes of Falco's interceptors blasted out, curving off in every direction to engage the incoming pirate ships. Almost immediately, they began to make their presence felt. One, two, then a third pirate destroyer exploded into a miniature sun, before suddenly winking out of existence.

Stell watched with satisfaction as the interceptors sliced through the pirate formation, leaving death and destruction behind. But he knew it wouldn't last. “Time to implement phase two, Captain,” he said to Boyko.

This time she executed his orders with a thin smile, which was as close as she'd ever come to an apology. “Implement phase two,” she ordered over ship-to-ship sealed beam. Stell felt the
Zulu
change course and watched the other two escorts do likewise on the screen. Moments later they were clustered together for mutual defense, with an escort of nine interceptors surrounding them. Captain Boyko was pleased. Tricks were all very fine, but she would put her faith in traditional tactics every time. “Give me full emergency thrust,” she ordered. Stell felt himself pushed back into the couch, and wondered how long it would take the pirates to figure out that the thermium was aboard the three escorts, and not the two old hulks ranged on either side of the
Nest.
The longer the better, he thought to himself.

Lady Almanda Kance-Jones watched the screens in the main salon of her yacht with disgust. As the three escorts wheeled away, and then sped off towards Fabrica, she realized that they must have the thermium. That fool Drago had been sucked right in. For a moment she played with the idea of telling him what she knew, but quickly decided against any such sentimental foolishness. Let him reap the reward for stupidity. She moistened her lips and pouted for the mirror, which covered the opposite bulkhead. Then, with one of her perfectly manicured fingers, she flicked on the intercom. “Max, you see those ships heading for Fabrica?”

In the control compartment Max, her cyborg pilot, glanced at the screens and replied, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Get me there before them,” she said, settling back into her silk cushions. A few seconds later the yacht leapt forward as Max applied maximum power. Lady Kance-Jones didn't even notice. She was looking in the mirror.

Falco held his breath as he came in behind the pirate destroyer. Then he had tone and lock-on from the on-board computer. He pressed the safety button on the top of his control stick, then squeezed the trigger. Twin beams of blue light slashed out to connect with the pirate ship. For a moment nothing happened, as the larger ship's screens absorbed and dispersed coherent energy. “Two torpedoes,” he said, verbally activating both launchers, “fire.” They leaped out from under the stubby wings of his interceptor and exploded against the enemy vessel's defensive screens. For but a fraction of a second after the explosion, there was a hole in the screen. Blue light from his energy cannon raced through the hole to touch the unprotected ship. All his screens damped down to protect him from the light generated by the explosion. He curved away quickly, scanning his instruments to see how things stood.

“That was a nice one, boss,” Carla said. “Ya fried the bastards good.”

“Thanks, Carla, but it looks like they're still going to get to the
Nest
and the other two ships. I think it's time to implement phase three of the General's plan.
Nest,
do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, boss,” came the reply from Captain Susa, who commanded
Nest.

“Implement phase three.”

“Aye-aye, boss. Phase three it is.”

Perhaps if Drago had been paying closer attention, he might have noticed that the interceptors were gradually withdrawing. But the process of disengaging took time, and he was busy giving orders, anticipating the moment when the three transports would be his. He grinned savagely as an interceptor was hit and tumbled through space before exploding. The brethren were winning. “Prepare for boarding,” he ordered. Below, members of the boarding party checked their weapons and grinned nervously at each other. Drago's pilot proved his skill once more, as he laid the
Avenger
alongside
Nest
with only the slightest bump. Tractor beams locked the two together. Meanwhile, other pirate ships had matched locks with the two hulks on either side of
Nest.
Ship crackers flared and ruby-red beams of energy sliced into durasteel. The minutes ticked by as three-man teams operated the cutting devices. The boarding party began to sweat in their armor as they wondered about the coming fight. It might be a breeze, or a really nasty hand-to-hand battle. You never knew. Suddenly the lock mechanism gave way and the other ship's lock hissed open. The boarders surged forward. Then, to the consternation of those in the rear, the front rank was hurled back as a solid phalanx of brigade troopers charged out of the lock, firing hand weapons and swinging heavy battle axes. Leading them forward was Sergeant Major Flynn. Lacking the size to swing a battle axe, she had opted for a flamer instead. “This is for Two Holes, you rotten bastards!” she screamed, and flamed the front rank of pirates. As their ashes fell, she ran through determined that no pirates would escape.

Aboard the other two ships, the story was much the same; they carried nothing but brigade troops. The pirates were quickly driven back to their own ships, and the tide of the battle turned. An hour later, every pirate ship that had tried to board a Freeholdian vessel was in brigade hands. Heading for
Avenger
's bridge, Falco followed a trail of dead and broken pirates, scorched walls, blown hatches, and drifting smoke. Here and there he saw bodies wearing the armor of the brigade, but they were few and far between, compared to those of the pirates. When he reached the bridge he found Sergeant Major Flynn in charge. There were bodies everywhere. One lay right at her feet. It looked like someone had emptied a handgun into it. Seeing his look, she said, “This one was their leader, sir. Called himself Brother Drago.”

She looked up at him innocently. “I tried to take him alive, sir ... but he tried to jump me.” Falco looked down at Drago's unarmed body and then back up at her. He didn't believe a word of it.

“I can see that, Sergeant Major. Well, carry on. I want these ships underway as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Flynn replied and turned to her troopers. “Well, you heard him—let's get this mess cleaned up!”

But Falco didn't hear her. His eyes were locked on the pirate ship's plot tank, and the small formation of ships that were racing for Fabrica. They were almost out of detector range. But not out of trouble. “Good luck, ground pounder,” he said under his breath and turned away, forcing himself to think about the many problems awaiting his attention.

As
Zulu
swung into orbit around Fabrica, the other ships followed, maintaining a safe distance. They could still be jumped, even now. Not that anything looked threatening. Fabrica was a fleecy ball below. Cloud cover obscured most of the planet's surface, giving no hint of what it might conceal. But at least it seemed peaceful.

“What else have they got in orbit, Captain?” Stell asked.

Boyko's lips moved as she spoke on the crew channel. She listened, nodded twice, said something else, and turned to Stell. “About what you'd expect, General. Four bulk-cargo carriers, a couple of tramps, a small liner, and an Imperial DE. Plus a lot of junk. There's the usual orbital stuff, plus what looks like some kind of cargo pods. They should clean it up. It's a hazard to navigation.”

Stell nodded his agreement. Lazy skippers were always dumping things into orbit—burned-out tube linings, ruptured fuel tanks, holed solar panels ... you name it. Most planets used tugs to keep the worst of it cleaned up, but somebody on Fabrica was either lazy, or just didn't give a damn. Anyway, the ships all made sense. The big cargo carriers were probably picking up ore, the tramps might be selling rare isotopes, while the liner was probably delivering a fresh crew of workers and picking up those just finishing a six-month rotation.

As for the Destroyer Escort, Fabrica was inside the empire, although just barely, and entitled therefore to the protection of the Imperial Navy. After all, the industrial planet would make a juicy target for the pirates, or even the Il Ronn. It would be easy enough to dash across the frontier, load up on, say, some rare alloys, and then run. So the DE could be there to protect Fabrica, or to take on fuel, or for any of a dozen other reasons. It really didn't matter, Stell decided, since they hadn't done anything to offend Imperial authorities and should therefore have nothing to fear. But where the other ships were concerned ... better safe than sorry.