Shadow Space Chronicles 1: The Fallen Race (15 page)

The man stared at him in horror for a long moment.  It was obvious now that he was too emotional, and would have to be replaced as soon as practical.

“In addition, you and your government will prepare to meet with our conditioning committee as to the new standards we expect of this world.  Failure to meet our standards will result in retaliation for sedition.”  Kleigh informed the man.  Without a doubt, some on the planet would act, foolishly, in the hopes that some minor terrorist actions would convince the Chxor to leave.

The Chxor would leave the planet uninhabitable before they’d leave it to their enemies.  It was illogical and unthinkable to provide a potential haven to any enemies of order and structure.

Kleigh waved to the technician to disconnect the transmission and returned his attention to his notes.  Obviously non-Chxor required further conditioning before serving as crew.  Squadron Commander Kleigh scheduled further demonstrations on such sources of sedition as humans.  All must know their place in the Chxor Empire.  Mutiny was a threat most Chxor ships were capable of defending against.  Every cruiser had a complement of one hundred soldiers, chosen for their loyalty and dedication.  Unfortunately, they were trained to subdue a planetary populous and not for defensive fighting aboard their own ships.  Especially not when such mutinies were led by trained soldiers proficient in shipboard fighting.  It was an unfortunate gap in Chxor tactical doctrine, Kleigh saw now.

He added a suggestion for such training to the training regimen.  Most of their regimen consisted of engaging civilians who lacked training and required lessons in obedience to the Chxor.  Few units saw battle against any military under any conditions, much less those as unfavorable as aboard ship, against a mutinous crew and enemy boarders.

The most logical preventative measure would be self-destruct measures for each captain to undertake.  No Chxor commander would hesitate to destroy their own vessel rather than let it fall into enemy hands, he knew.  He’d ordered the commanders of the cruisers to attempt the same.  Unfortunately, mutinous crew made the process difficult.

Chxor ships needed a quick means of self-destruction, he decided and made additional note of it.  It would be a simple modification.  He would, by necessity, avoid it aboard his own ship.  His survival as the Squadron Commander was essential.

Kleigh nodded as a second of the cruisers disappeared off his screen.  One disappeared earlier, which suggested that the commander had been quicker thinking than the others.  This one was from the vessel that had signaled that the crew fought the boarders rather than their own officers.  It was good that this ship too wouldn’t fall to the enemy.

The other two, though, seemed to be under the control of the enemy.  He made note that the two ships, along with the damaged one which had already mutinied.  They would be treated as rogue and destroyed on sight.

Kleigh found it unfortunate that the enemy’s forces had grown.  Possibly the cruisers could function as screening units for the enemy.  Possibly the differing accelerations would make that untenable.  The enemy’s firepower remained essentially unchanged, though Kleigh found the addition of other enemy vessels unfortunate.  Obviously the enemy had planned this situation, planned to sacrifice this world for the destruction of the two dreadnoughts.  An illogical move, one more sign that this enemy, the
War Shrike
and its commander, must be destroyed.

After the proper assimilation of this world, Squadron Commander Kleigh would attend to that.

***

After six hours of fighting, the last of the Chxor loyalists finally gave up.

It cost the lives of twenty three Marines and over two hundred crew who mutinied against the Chxor.  No one counted the numbers of Chxor who'd fought and died.

It freed something over seven hundred people, most of them humans.  And it gave Lucius four additional ships.  The slow and unarmed cruisers made an interesting addition to his force. 

The mutineers aboard one ship had cut power to the entire ship.  At a distance, it may have looked like the ship was destroyed as its power icon disappeared.  If that was true, the Chxor might not know he possessed the vessel, something which could come in handy later on.

Lucius’ small fleet formed up now, for its jump to Shadow.  As that thought triggered, he sighed.

“
We failed again,” he said, softly.

“
Baron, we kicked the crap out of them,” Lieutenant Beeson said.

Lucius snorted, “We’re still running, and I’m abandoning another world to the Chxor.”  He felt the temptation, even now, to stay, to fight.

But that would have been foolish.  He’d expended nearly all of his missiles.  His supply freighter could have rearmed the fighters, but it would have taken most of the day to refill the
Gebneyr
’s external missile racks.  During that time, they would be stationary, open to an attack

Without somehow repeating that devastating surprise strike, he had little chance of overwhelming the remaining dreadnoughts.

Besides that, the Chxor possessed ansibles, just as he himself did.  To judge by previous actions, Chxor reinforcements would come all the sooner for a defeat here.  It might take them months to arrive, but they would show up in force, with troop transports to spare.

Even if he won the fight today, it would leave the
War Shrike
a battered wreck and the Chxor reinforcements would sweep her aside when they arrived.

The only option that remained was to retreat.

“Baron, do we withdraw to the rally point?” Doko said, from aboard one of the captured cruisers.

Lucius nodded, “Lieutenant Palmer will send out the coordinates.”

Lucius had spent many nights worrying over where to go from Faraday, should it prove indefensible.  His limited choices shortened with availability by distance and his own vessels’ fuel capacity.  The Chxor cruisers had the longest legs of his vessels, which meant he might use them as fuel tankers.  Otherwise, the
War Shrike
and the
Gebneyr
together had only twenty days of fuel for their fusion reactors.

Thankfully, the Chxor Shadow drive mirrored human designs, so the cruisers’ FTL speeds were the same as his other ships.  That meant he could travel thirty days with his on-board fuel supplies, before he needed to send out his refueling vessels.

Then, of course, there were the civilian refugee ships, which had the same speeds, but some had even less sustainable distance.  He eyed the data on the motley assortment of vessels.  The maximum distance of the least capable ship was twenty days.  That ship was also the one which carried the most people, of course.  That meant the maximum distance they could travel before they must refuel would be the same distance as that vessel.

To find one location where all of the vessels could meet after numerous jumps which had to be no more than twenty days total traveling distance was something of a headache.

Lucius Giovanni had received his commission because he was a landed Baron and when His Imperial Majesty determined that a general draft of the populous was necessary, those with titles were offered commissions, rather than being forced into the ranks of the enlisted.

Lucius had kept his commission and succeeded because he planned things thoroughly, even meticulously.  He expected the unexpected and even his most optimistic plans took the unplanned into account.  What had kept him and his ship alive for so long was that he considered even the worst of outcomes in the event that they did indeed come to pass.

Lucius had already planned for an initial rendezvous and had the travel routes for every refugee ship already prepared.  It was one of his worst case scenario plans.  The four additional warships would change the plan somewhat, but not significantly.  He left some leeway in numbers of refugee vessels in his evacuation plan.

“
Captain, all vessels are ready to jump to shadow,” Doko was aboard one of the captured cruisers, Beeson aboard another.  That left Lieutenant Palmer running three stations, and still talking with his irritating drawl. 
Surely not all people from Earth talk that way
, Lucius thought.

“
Order them to make the jump.” Lucius’s command was soft and regretful.  He looked one last time at the star system which had, for a time, held so much promise.  There would be other stars, other worlds, he knew, but he also felt a conviction growing within.

He stared at the central screen, with the image of the soft, blue world of Faraday.  “I’ll be back.”  As he said the words, the universe shifted and the
War Shrike
jumped to Shadow.

***

CHAPTER
IV

January 1, 2403 Earth Standard Time

Anvil System

Colonial Republic Space

The poorly lit spacer bar held only two or three drunks still in celebration of the new year.  The only sober and conscious occupants consisted of a sour-looking bartender and a single man in the corner booth furthest from the door.

Both of them looked up as a woman stepped into the bar.  She was tall, with short black hair and dark eyes, and she wore dark pants with a loose, dark gray blouse.  She wore a large pistol slung at her hip.  She looked too pretty, too naive to wear such a gun to the casual eye.

The bartender – a sharp judge of character – flinched, “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’m not here for trouble,” she answered as she stepped past him and headed straight for the corner booth.

The man in the booth lounged back as she approached.  His left arm was held under the table, where he had already unholstered his own pistol.  Anvil was a hard world, and like many in the Colonial Republic, a violent and bloody place often enough.

She sat down across from him.

“
Rumor has it you saw something interesting in space not too long ago.” She smiled.

The man pretended to relax, but his left hand remained under the table and clenched on his pistol.  “Could be.  I’ve seen a lot of interesting things.” 

“I might be willing to pay you for the information,” the woman lay several bills of Colonial Republic Denari on the table.

The man smirked a bit, “Awful interested, huh?”  His right hand swept the bills off the table.  “Who might you be?  Some kind of salvager?” He asked lightly.

“Information for information, Mr. McGann,” Her response was cold.

The spacer frowned and rubbed at the black stubble on his chin, “Now the way I see it, there’s only a few that could have heard what I offered.  That is pirates, maybe some mercenaries, and then there are some shadier types than that.”  His voice was a slow drawl, very relaxed.  It had taken him years to practice that drawl.

“Are you Mason McGann and do you have information or not?”

He sighed, leaned forward putting both elbows on the table.  He spoke softly, looking into the woman‘s eyes.  “I am Mason and I have the coordinates for the ship I saw.”

“Excellent.” Her answer showed actual relief.  “I’ve been casing every bar in this Chxor-damned city for the past two days looking for you.”  Something of the way she spoke told him that she wasn't here to fight.

The man smiled and leaned back again as he holstered his pistol.  His elbows rested on the back of the bench.  “I’ve got reasons to be hard to find.  But my information won’t come cheap.”

She nodded and extended one hand, “I’m Lauren Kelly.”

He shook her hand and returned to his reclined position.  He cocked his head as he studied her, “So what are you willing to pay?”  He made mental note that she'd taken a seat to better watch the entrance.

Lauren smiled, “I understand you lost your ship.”

His face went hard.  Mason clenched his jaw.  He took a deep swig of his beer.  “If by lost, you mean port security seized it under false charges, you might be right.”  The irony that he'd run an honest cargo, for once, and lost his ship to it...

“I can give you enough payment that you could buy any ship on this rock.”

He smirked, “Any ship, huh?”

She placed a handful of small, golden ingots on the table.

He frowned, picked one up.  “These aren’t what I think are they?”

“Gold, processed but not tagged.  We got them on accident.  They aren’t stolen or reported missing.  No one can track it and you could use it to buy whatever you want,” Lauren said.

“
Why not buy yourself a ship with this?” Mason asked, his eyes narrowed.

“
We don’t need freighters.”  It was more information than she really wanted to give.

He snorted, “You need these ships, apparently.  And you’re getting them cheap, if it’s what you and I think it is.”

“I can offer you transportation, to whatever world you want.  A job even, from what I hear, you’re a skilled pilot.”

He shook his head, “I’m not in it for the money.  And you’re wrong about the payment, I can’t use those stones to buy my ship back, which is the only one worth a damned thing on this planet.”

Behind her, Lauren heard the door open, heard the bartender’s voice.

“
Friends of yours?” Mason asked.

Lauren's dark gaze flicked over at the door.  Her back straightened.  She turned to face Mason, “What’s your price?”  The six men in uniform moved towards them.

He leaned forward.  “I want off this world.  I want my ship back.”  He stared into her eyes.  He added impulsively, “I want to know who you are and why you want
those
ships.”

Lauren closed her eyes.  “Done.”

She stepped out of the booth and moved to stand in front of the six men.

They stopped.  “You Lauren Kelly?” The one in the lead pushed back his visor to speak.  His face was scarred and pitted.  “We’re Anvil Security.  You need to come with us.”

The woman didn’t move for a long moment.

The door opened, several more people stepped inside.

The bartender gave a muttered curse.  Mason watched him go into the back room and shut the door.  He could hear the locks snap shut on the door.

The six uniformed men looked back at the newcomers.  Three men and two women faced them, armed with assault weapons they’d hidden beneath heavy coats.

Lauren spoke coldly, “No, I don’t think I’ll be going with you.” She drew her pistol but kept it pointed at the floor.  “We can fight this out and all of you will die... or you can raise your hands and surrender. We already jammed your radios, so don’t think about calling for help.”

The leader cursed something under his breath.  “You won’t get out of this system, we don’t know who you are, but we’ve seen your ships.  There’s a force lying in wait already.”

“Let me worry about that.” Lauren answered.

The leader glanced at his men, back at Lauren.  No one moved for a long moment.

She moved so quickly that she’d fired before the leader had his pistol fully out of the holster.  The shot sounded impossibly loud in the close bar.  The rank smell of burning blood and voided bowels filled the air.  The five remaining security men stood silent behind their visors as the sergeant dropped to the floor dead.  They slowly raised their hands.

Lauren turned back to Mason.  “We already got your ship out.  The Baron said you’d want it as payment.”

“Baron?” Mason asked, puzzled.

“
You’ll find out soon enough.”

***

January 2, 2403 Earth Standard Time

Zeta Tau System

Unclaimed Space

Amalgamated Worlds’ largest training facility off of Earth was once Alpha Seven.  That ended when a passing ship spotted a lurking Provisional Colonial Republican Army force.  Orders were sent, and the base shut down, its personnel boarded ships on a passing convoy where they displaced the intended cargo.

Unfortunately for those men and women, the PCRA targeted the convoy and its cargo.  The ships of that convoy became the airless tombs for some thirty thousand people who died.  The butchery of Alpha Seven became the first of many atrocities committed by both sides, all caused by one ship in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All of that had occurred nearly a century ago.  It was the first significant defeat for the Amalgamated Worlds Fleet and it was soon followed by several others.  The PCRA had been one of the bigger downfalls of Amalgamated Worlds, but the death of its enemy brought the fall of the colonial army, for without a common enemy, the worlds began to fear and fight each other.  That had led to the squabble that enveloped the Colonial Republic in present times, Lucius knew.

The base shut down, its equipment mothballed, the corridors and chambers carefully cleaned, the entire facility eased into standby, waiting for the trainees that would never return.

When the
War Shrike
arrived, Lucius had found the moon base almost entirely intact.

It wasn’t surprising.  Amalgamated Worlds Fleet never left weapons or other sensitive items lying unguarded.  That didn’t stop people from looking.  Numerous scavengers and salvagers previously prowled the base and the surrounding area.  They’d looked for weapons caches, computer equipment, and the like.  Someone had scavenged some of the environmental equipment.  Some others had performed minor acts of vandalism and graffiti.

Even those events hardly marred the surface of the base.  The main hub was designed for training up to forty thousand people at a time where they would have run raw recruits through basic training before they shifted them to Fleet or Marines or Army.  The four external wings held quarters for another twenty thousand people each.  The base was massive, a city in its own right.

It took a total of three weeks to get power, heating, and air restored to the northern wing.  The fusion plants were buried deep beneath the surface, embedded in solid concrete and rock.  Looters hadn’t bothered to try and remove the huge reactors.  It would have been far too much work for too little gain.

The base had lain abandoned for almost a century.  Most people had forgotten it existed, with reason.  No one needed the base.  It contained nothing of worth, and was located in a relatively empty sector of space.

Lucius only knew about it because he had been part of a planning committee to use it as a base of operations against the Chxor, eight years previously.

The problem was the same then as it was now, why bother?

Baron Lucius Giovanni stood and moved around his desk to study the screen on the wall.  It showed the moon, an overview of the base and its structures.  Just over sixteen thousand refugees filled the north wing of the base.  They had plenty of room, with ample, comfortable quarters.  The furniture had been left behind, and while it was older and plain, it still made the quarters tolerable.

The base was everything they needed right now.  It was an overlooked relic that no one would think to search any time soon.  The odd scavenger who wondered in could be captured and held until they moved on.  If they moved on.

Lucius shook his head.  Thoughts like those would get him nowhere.

“Captain, the rest of the committee is assembled,” a voice warned him over his intercom.

“
Thank you,” Lucius sighed and moved to the door.  “Time for the difficult part.”

***

Just after their rendezvous in the Zeta Tau system, home to Alpha Seven’s airless moon, Lucius had asked the civilians to form some sort of temporary governance.  He had seriously underestimated the mess that would result.

He quickly discovered three groups among his refugees.  The smallest group was made up of Faraday military and their families, those who sided with the Contractor chose to leave while they could.  Most of the military forces had stayed behind and chose to abide by the legal government.

Ordinary Faraday citizens made up a significant portion.  These people had either panicked or had dealings with people in the know, and ran while they could.  This group consisted of Faraday citizens of every stripe, from lady friends of the crew who’d been warned to flee, to businessmen and merchant captains.

The experienced refugees made up the majority.  These people had fled before, either once, or several times.  The displaced masses, those who knew how to survive.  They’d lived for years, sometimes even decades on Faraday, but never considered it home.  The hardiest, the toughest, they knew how to live on the run.  Many had little liking for the citizens of Faraday who treated them like scum when they’d immigrated.

After a great deal of politicking, five chosen representatives came forward to meet with Lucius.  Lucius told them where he stood right from the first.  He would tolerate no commands, not now and not ever.  He controlled the fleet, he controlled the crews.  He would do his best to defend the refugees, to see them to a decent world, but he would do things his way.

The five councilors fought him over it.  In this he hadn’t budged.  The experienced refugees understood the thin edge of survival.  The Contractor, who the military refugees had selected, didn’t like it, but accepted it.  The fifth councilor Lucius replaced twice before the Faraday citizens came to accept that they lived on Lucius’ conscience alone.

The five council members sat in the briefing room near the command section of Alpha Seven.  The former Contractor, now using her actual name, Kate Bueller, sat to the right of Lucius’ chair.  The experienced refugees’ three representatives were two men, Aaron Dallas and Max Nyguyen, and an Iodan, whose name involved limb movements that humans couldn’t replicate.  The Iodanians apparently made up a substantial part of the refugee populace, surprising since their worlds lay quite distant from Faraday.  Lucius had yet to get the story out of them as to how three thousand of them had ended up in the back end of space.