Void Wraith (The Void Wraith Trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

"Jim?" the male voice said. "Is that really you?"

"How did you crack this encryption?" the woman roared, drowning them both out.

"Lady, I don't really need you on this call," Dryker said. His time for putting up with corporate bureaucrats was past. "I needed to talk to the acting head of the 14
th
fleet, and you just put me in touch with him. The Primo aren't going to harm Ceras. You can go back to your wine party."

"Ceras will censure you. You'll be stripped of your rank," the woman sputtered.
 

Dryker ejected her from the call, making doubly sure her icon had disappeared before he spoke again. "Jamison, I need to ask you a favor. I want you to reach out to captains you trust, no more than a handful. We need the influential people, like Sheng. The ones who can get the rest of the fleet on board with the craziest idea they've ever heard."

"Why? And what the hell are you doing in command of a Primo battlegroup?" Jamison said. There was no heat to his voice, just confusion. Maybe a little excitement.
 

"Because the war with the Tigris is a smokescreen," Dryker said. He paused to give Jamison a chance to respond, but the man said nothing. "Most of the Primo have been wiped out by the same people who've made a third of the periphery go dark. They're called the Void Wraith, and they've got us fighting the cats to weaken both sides. When the war is over, they'll sweep in and mop up whoever is left."

"Okay, let's say I buy this. Why do you want to gather the 14
th
? We're the
underfunded
14
th
, remember? We don't have the manpower or resources to make a difference. Our whole fleet wouldn't be the equal of one of your carriers," Jamison protested, more than a little bitterly. Like most captains in the 14
th
, he'd been ground down under years of frustration. They were given an impossible job and next to no resources, then left to flounder.

"Because I can outfit the 14
th
with Primo weaponry," Dryker said, his smile leaking into his voice. "Are you interested?"

Chapter 37- Refitted

Dryker sat down with Juliard, the last member of the
Johnston
'
s
crew to stick with him. She slid deeper into the booth, all but sinking into the torn leather. The short blonde looked like a toddler at the oversized table. Dryker slid in next to her, surveying the bar. He'd been to McMalley's half a dozen times over the years, and rarely remembered the trip back to his ship. He definitely remembered the hangovers, though.

"Do you think they'll show?" Juliard asked, taking a sip of her beer. She scanned the twenty or so patrons suspiciously.
 

"They'll show, but in their own time," Dryker said, savoring a mouthful of terrible soy beer. At least it was cold. The Primo served all their food at room temperature. "They're probably having a separate meeting right now. They'll settle things amongst themselves, then come to meet us."

"I think we're being watched," Juliard said, looking pointedly down at the table. "There's a man in a blue shirt next to the door, and another seated at the table two over from us. Both have been staring."

Dryker glanced at both men from the corner of his eye, running a quick threat assessment. Then he started to laugh. When Juliard's shocked face turned up to him, he laughed harder. It took several wheezing breaths to bring the laughter under control.

"What the hell do you find so funny?" Juliard hissed. "Now everyone is staring at us."

"Lieutenant, the men you indicated were staring at
you
, not at us," Dryker said, struggling to catch his breath. He shook his head, still smiling. "When was the last time you were in a bar?"

"I don't really do bars," she said, glaring at the men who'd stared at her. Both looked back at their drinks.

"Here they come," Dryker said, straightening, then giving a wave.

Jamison returned the wave, then led a cluster of hard-faced men and women over to the booth. He slid in next to Dryker, and the rest of the captains all slid in after. The booth was elbow-to-elbow by the time everyone had sat down.

"Sheng, Smith," Dryker said, nodding to the two he recognized. The former was a Chinese woman in her late sixties, the latter a brick of a man in his early forties.

"Dryker, meet Hawk, Brenner and Nagabushan." Jamison gestured at each in turn. "The rest you've already met. I told the boys--"

"There are three women here," Sheng interjected.

"I told the
crew
," Jamison said, correcting himself, "that you'd be paying our bar tab, and that all they needed to do was listen."

"That's the deal. Have a seat, and order whatever you want. It's all on my tab. Drink liberally, because my plan is terrible and that will make it sound better," Dryker said. He reached into his jacket, setting six cylinders on the table. "Each of you take one of these back to your ship. It contains footage showing the battle in the Ghantan system, plus the circumstances leading up to it."

"That's the battle where the
Johnston
bought it, right?" Brenner, one of the few Aussies in the 14
th
, asked. "Brass said you bought it too, along with most of the 7
th
."

"That's the battle," Dryker said, a knife twisting in his chest at the mention of the
Johnston
. "The brass is full of shit though, even more so than usual. The whole thing is a cover-up. They lied about what happened, and you're holding the proof."

If Dryker had said that to a table full of captains in any other fleet, odds were good he'd have been on the receiving end of the world's most enthusiastic ass kicking. The 14
th
was different, though. They knew they were the red-headed stepchildren of Fleet, and that if the top brass were involved, then the 14
th
was getting screwed again.

"This is the part that's going to be hard to swallow, and before you react I want you to remember that there is evidence proving it on those data drives I passed out," Dryker said. He took a deep breath, and said the thing that would make or break his case. "The whole conflict with the Tigris is a smokescreen. Higher-ups in both their fleet and ours have colluded to start a war."

Absolute silence at the table. Bad country music continued to play in the background. A woman laughed raucously as her date told a joke. Finally, Jamison licked his lips and spoke. "Why would they do that?"

"This one goes deep," Dryker said, leaning in close and lowering his voice. "They want to bleed both fleets, to keep us weak so we're easy to conquer. The people doing this just wiped out most of the Primo fleet. The rest of it? That's parked on the other side of this system, ready to help us take it to the real enemy in this war."

"Let's say we're willing to believe this--and I'm not saying we are." Sheng eyed him dubiously. "Who is this enemy, and what do you expect the 14
th
to do about it? Throw rocks? We're not equipped for a full war. We're a bunch of ancient ships put out to pasture. We police pirates, and barely have the ordinance to do even that much."

"You already know the answer, or I doubt Jamison would have convinced you to come," Dryker said. He pulled his plasma pistol from its holster and set the weapon on the table.

Sheng grinned at him. That grin spread to every face at the table.

"I've got twenty of these for every captain that signs. Your Marines will have the edge over everyone they fight," Dryker said, leaning back in his seat. He savored another mouthful of beer while they passed the pistol around. "That's not all I can offer, though. Hand-to-hand is one thing, but we're going toe-to-toe with capital ships. Your vessels need some extra punch there, too. We have Primo assault cannons, and using their tech, we can bolt them to your hulls. It won't be pretty, but you'll have access to plasma weaponry."

"Come on guys," Sheng said, elbowing Brenner, and waiting for everyone to look at her. "Yeah, I know the gun is shiny. I want them, too. Let's be real for a moment first. If we sign on, what do you plan to do? Are you going to attack our own vessels?"

"Just one of them," Dryker said, leaning over the table to stare hard at Sheng. "The admiralty put us here. Mendez, Chu...probably all of them are working against us. Once the 14
th
is up to speed, we're going to hunt them down."

Chapter 38- Pride Leonis

"Open a channel to the fleet," Fizgig ordered, composing herself on her chair. She'd piled the pillows artfully around her, demonstrating the kind of comfort every captain strove for.
 

"We're broadcasting, Mighty Fizgig," Izzy said, giving her a deferential nod. Izzy's snowy fur was pristine, though it hadn't been, until Fizgig had chastised her about her grooming. Most prideless didn't understand how important appearances were when determining pride standing.

"Leonis Pride, hear me," Fizgig said, making her words bold and powerful. She stared into the view screen, unblinking. "I am Mighty Fizgig of the
Claw of Tigrana
. I have come to challenge Mow for leadership of the pride. Under the auspices of Tigrana, I will prevail."

Fizgig made a gesture, and Izzy stabbed a button on her console. The view screen shifted back to a view of the Leonis fleet orbiting the Tok Shipyards.

"Hah," Khar said, giving a rumbling chuckle. Then he began to purr. "Let us see what they make of that."

Fizgig's tail swished, her only reply. Tradition dictated how this would unfold. None of the other captains would speak to her until Mow had replied. If Mow didn't reply, vessels would flock to her. She'd neatly pinned the old cat. Either Mow faced her, or he lost his fleet.
 

"I am pleased to see you live," Mow's voice said. The view screen flared to life, showing the bridge of his vessel. "I am less pleased that you would choose the eve of battle to challenge me, especially after having been gone so long. Many questions remain, Fizgig. Where have you been? Why have you returned now? I will not allow you to sow discord among our ranks."

"You know where I've been, and why," Fizgig said, rising gracefully from her pillows. She approached the screen, knowing that every captain in the system was watching their conversation. "You orchestrated this war based on a lie. The humans were not responsible for the destruction of our fleet in the Ghantan system. I was there, Mow. And I have proof."

Mow leaned back into his own pillows, his tail swishing lazily. "Really? Then how do you explain this?"

Mow gestured, and a window opened up on the corner of the screen. It showed the battle in the Ghantan system--or a part of it anyway. It was from the perspective of the Tigris vessels, and it showed them being fired upon by a human fleet. The camera showed nothing of the Void Wraith--not their harvesters, their factory, nor their bomb.

So far as this footage suggested, there'd been a battle between humans and Tigris, one the humans had clearly won. Fizgig's tail sank a good two inches before she willed the descent to stop. She stiffened, meeting Mow's gaze.

"I possess similar footage, but mine shows the
true
battle. Khar, display our battle recording from Ghantan," she ordered, waving a paw in Khar's direction.

"Yes, Mighty Fizgig," Khar said, bending to the task. A moment later, the small window in the corner of the screen returned, this time with her version of the battle.

"Notice the strange blue vessels. They are the Void Wraith," Fizgig said, triumphantly. "As you can see, they are destroying the human vessel, the
Johnston
. You can also see their factory, and the bomb they intended for Theras Prime. The human fleet was controlled by agents of the Void Wraith."

"A pretty story," Mow said, his tail still swishing haughtily.

Fizgig recoiled as if struck.

"How can we verify any of this from your footage?" Mow asked. "Clearly there is some new race, but that new race is working
with
the humans. The
Johnston
was a rogue vessel. They were probably trying to alert us to the humans' own treachery."

"I have all the evidence needed to prove my claims, and I am broadcasting it to the fleet as we speak," Fizgig said, stalking toward the screen. She glared up at Mow. "You cannot run, Mow. I will hunt you down, and I will tear out your throat with my own fangs. I promise you that."

"Will you?" Mow said, rather smugly. Then his expression grew more solemn. "I will give you one chance to survive, Fizgig. One chance to prove that you value your people over the deceiving humans. I've just received word that your precious humans are assaulting Tigrana."

"Tigrana can hold off any human assault. Even a single orbital platform would devastate anything the humans possess," Fizgig said, her eyes narrowing to slits. "What are you playing at, Mow?"

"The prides convened, and we moved the defense platforms to front-line worlds," Mow admitted, eyes glittering. He knew he had her, and that she knew it. "It was a general vote, and passed almost unanimously."

Fizgig froze. For the first time in two decades, she didn't know what to do. Visions of her world burning filled her mind. The humans raining death on the unprotected Imperial Academy where her four grandkits went to school.
 

"What about the fleets?" Fizgig asked, agonized. "At least two prides watch over our world; that is the covenant." Her niece was about to graduate from the Royal Academy, the first scientist in three generations. Her sister wrote Fizgig about it daily, so often that Fizgig could scarcely keep up.

"Stripped, to battle the humans," Mow admitted, giving a heavy sigh. "Again, not my doing. It was voted on by the prides. So you see, Fizgig, we must set aside our squabble for the good of the Tigris. We must save our home world, which is even now under siege by humans."

Fizgig's tail topped to the floor, and this time she didn't stop it. There was nothing she could say or do to unseat Mow, not if the humans were really assaulting Tigrana.

Chapter 39- Battle Lines

Hannan instinctively checked her weapon's action, realizing for the hundredth time that Void Wraith tech had no action. The plasma rifle was, for all intents and purposes, a single piece of metal. Its internals were completely covered in artfully crafted curves. The weapon was lightweight, didn't ever seem to heat up, and took several hundred shots to drain.