Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Crusade Read online

  “For what it’s worth,” Cutter spoke up to Halley, “I am a Fixer, the middleman. If you know how this industry works, you know I have no intention of taking sides. There’s no need to get extreme here.”

  “Oh, I know how it works.” Halley replied. “It’s just a matter of what we do with you until we leave.” She turned to Krenis again. “We’ll discuss arrangements in a more secure location.”

  “That’s all set up,” Web chimed in. “We went with the second place on the list. But it’s got power, no tenants, and is close enough for the job,” he said proudly. Web had taken care of that on his own while Loren prepped for the meeting, and was very eager to see if Halley approved.

  “Transportation?” Halley asked.

  “Stole a beat up piece of junk just this morning,” Loren said with a smile. “Not the prettiest heap on the planet, but it’s old and beat up enough that none of the security or tracking equipment has worked in years. And it’s parked around the corner.”

  “Everybody on your feet,” Halley commanded. She herded Krenis and Cutter in the direction Loren had indicated while he and Web each picked up an unconscious Priman. They weren’t going to leave anyone behind.

  Chapter 9

  Fifteen minutes later, they were settled inside the warehouse. Being in an industrial/commercial district, an empty warehouse wasn’t too hard to come by.

  Halley had bound all of the Primans, who were finally awake, and left five of them plus Cutter Sarn sitting in the middle of the large, dusty space. They only had enough lights on to see where they were going, since they didn’t want to advertise to everyone in the district that there were people inside.

  Krenis still sat in the back of the cargo hauler, along with Halley and Web, while Loren kept his SSK on the others from a safe distance.

  “Krenis,” Halley began reasonably, “I’m not here to threaten or play games; I’d just like to get down to what matters, is that alright with you?”

  “You don’t need to pretend to be the reasonable dealmaker,” Krenis replied defiantly. “I’m not going along with anything you have to offer.”

  Halley cracked him in the temple with the butt of her SSK, sending Krenis to the floor of the vehicle with a yelp of pain. He tried his best to remain dignified, but the only way he could sit back up was to shuffle and contort himself against the wall of the van. Finally, he sat upright, his back to the wall.

  “I never said I wouldn’t hurt you,” she said calmly, “just that I wouldn’t play games about it. So let’s try again, because I have five other Primans tied up out there I can deal with if you don’t work out.” She let the threat hang in the air, but hoped he didn’t call her bluff. He was the extrovert of the bunch, that was for certain, and while she didn’t know the duties of the other five, she was sure that at least this one in particular was a data tech, and that’s what she wanted more than anything.

  “I need to access some data you stored in one of your Keeper storage facilities,” she began, nothing with satisfaction the surprised look on his face as she started opening up about how much she knew about his operation. “I’m not looking to win the war tonight, but I need to do one little thing. I need to get into a Keeper facility, and so I need your ship, and preferably all of you, alive. What are the odds of you cooperating?”

  “Why would you expect me to help you attack my own people?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say attack, Krenis. I’d rather do this covertly, without bloodshed. You don’t believe I’m serious, do you?” She hung her head out the back of the van and yelled, “Commander, go ahead and shoot one, Krenis doesn’t believe me.”

  They’d briefed ahead of time what they were willing to do, and while Loren accepted the responsibility of taking the shot if need be, Halley had wagered Krenis would fold. Still, he was prepared. Loren walked up to the five prisoners, who were on their knees, and drew his SSK, holding it to the back of the head of the first Priman in line. The van had been parked so Krenis could see everything that unfolded outside.

  Loren took his time, trying to be methodical and sinister, but he only had seconds before he’d have to commit.

  “Wait!” Krenis cried. “You can’t kill them!”

  “You seem to think we’re not serious,” Halley countered. “Imagine yourself in our shoes; would you do anything it took to ensure your people’s survival?”

  Krenis didn’t speak, instead just staring at Loren with his mouth open, unable to form words. He’d never been in a situation like this; he wasn’t a front line soldier and had never actually killed anyone, which was one of the best parts of being assigned to the Keepers in his eyes.

  Halley stared at him some more, giving him the silent treatment while Loren grew restless.

  “Am I doing this or not?” Loren asked irritably. It was all for show, but he was also becoming uncomfortable with his role. It was much harder to imagine doing something like this the longer he had to think about it.

  “No, I’ll help,” Krenis said quickly but quietly. “Just don’t kill anyone. What do you need?”

  “We’re going to take your ship. That’s all I want, not to examine your brain or do anything to you or your crew; I just need the ship. I even have prosthetics for the three of us so we blend in. But we’re all going together, just as soon as we can. Now, how to we get aboard without drawing attention, and what time was your clearance to leave?”

  Their departure was scheduled for an hour and a half later, and Halley, Loren, and Web spent most of that time preparing themselves and the Primans. They’d hoped to take all of the Primans back to Confed space as prisoners, but the reality of sneaking through an enemy base while also shepherding a group of prisoners that outnumbered them two to one caused a change of plans. They’d decided to take Krenis and the other two most predictable prisoners, leaving Cutter Sarn and the three Halley had identified as potential trouble makers behind in a makeshift cell in the warehouse. This made the odds even, rid them of their most problematic prisoners, and kept the number at the right count for the crew of a Keeper ship. They’d left enough water for a few days, and Halley had promised Krenis that she’d send a message to the local authorities identifying the building in three days regardless.

  “How do the prosthetics feel?” Halley asked Web, who was constantly touching his face. Primans, whose physical features were much smoother and more indistinct than Humans, Drisk, and the like, were relatively easy to impersonate with the right equipment. Halley’s kit had included full-face quick-attach masks, and were then shaped to fill in the low spots and build up around the more pronounced facial features to make them smoother.

  “I feel odd, that’s for sure,” he replied distractedly. He turned to look at her disguise and grinned. “Though, of course, even dressed up like one of those motherless humps, you are still hotter than a thousand suns.”

  “You learn well, Web.” She replied with a brilliant grin of her own. “Never miss the chance to compliment a lady, even when she’s dressed like I am.”

  They strolled down the street a short distance to the most sparsely-used gate onto the Priman-occupied spaceport. While Halley and the others had borrowed the uniforms of the Priman prisoners left behind in the warehouse, they had done only a cosmetic cut-and-paste on the Priman ID badges their prisoners had carried. The badges as a result had the Confed’s pictures on them, but the data was that of the Primans locked up in the warehouse. However, she’d noticed a lack of focus amongst the sentries during the late shifts, and Halley had impressed upon their group the need for them to sell the fact that they were all one big happy crew. Plus, she’d also convinced the Primans that she and the two other Confed men were prepared to die in a blaze of glory, taking out their prisoners first if they tried anything underhanded, while promising honorable and safe treatment as prisoners of war when they got back versus her other option should they fail to agree to her terms.

  They approached the base, Krenis in the lead, with Confed and Priman alternating in order aft
er that. They got to the guard post, and Krenis began talking excitedly to Halley in Standard Language. She’d noticed that the Primans were all very good at the native language of this part of the galaxy, and Krenis had proudly explained that not only was it good to know your adversary, but it often helped during negotiations for technology if the Primans spoke the language. Halley couldn’t argue with that logic. The Primans did, however, tend to draw out their vowels a bit when they spoke Standard, so Krenis kept going without giving any openings during which Halley was expected to reply.

  They walked through the guard post, Krenis waving his ID across the scanner and greeting the sentry in the Priman tongue. Halley had learned just enough in her time on occupied Callidor to know that it was only a simple greeting and not a request for help. Everyone else brushed through at the same rapid pace, trying to give the guards the least amount of time possible in case the sentries were comparing the people’s faces to the badge ID data that showed up on their monitors.

  They were soon at the ship. The Keeper ship was smallish, since it only held a crew of six- two on the flight deck and four at workstations just behind the cockpit. Like all Priman ships, it seemed to be made of a polished metal, and was smooth and graceful from pointed radome to bulging engines. There was the occasional sensor blister, but no viewports or weapons.

  Halley hurried them up into the ship and sealed the hatch, and Loren let out a lungful of air with a puff of his lips. “That was more stress than I really needed today,” he said softly.

  “Don’t relax now,” Web replied with a grin, “we’re just getting started!”

  “You enjoy this way too much,” Loren said solemnly, but he knew Web was also good enough to carry his weight.

  Loren offered to stow the other two Primans while Halley and Krenis requested their departure instructions. Loren gently nudged the two prisoners forward down the narrow corridor with the barrel of his SSK. The crew quarters were cramped, stacked bunks. “Not a lot of room in here, is there,” he said to nobody in particular, but one of the Primans took the bait.

  “We’re expected to be working hard on our mission,” he said firmly. “We rest only when we need to for just as long as is required, then we get back to work. We’ll find time for recreation one this war is over and we’ve assumed our rightful place once again.”

  Loren wasn’t going to let the man get to him, though it did strike him that perhaps the Priman wasn’t trying to be confrontational; maybe he was just proud of his role.

  “You realize that many of us are going to remain unconvinced that you should be in charge? We might even get it in our minds to try kicking you out of the galaxy again.” Loren replied as he secured the Primans lying down in two of the bunks. With cuffs securing their arms and legs spread-eagle to the bunks, he felt reasonably confident they weren’t going anywhere.

  “It is our crusade to show you the way.”

  Loren had to hand it to him that he wasn’t backing down, even in the incredibly vulnerable position he was in. “We’re just going to have to agree to disagree. Just ask yourself, if our roles were reserved, would you give up?”

  Captain Elco sat in his chair on the bridge brooding. It was late evening Anderson time, and still no word from Loren and Halley. They hadn’t had time to work out much in the way of a communications plan, and they’d only reported in once so far to say they were on track.

  Elco had spent the last day and a half filling out reports and generally doing commanding officer housekeeping. Regardless of what was happening in the war itself, there was still a Navy agency apparently tasked with generating reports, requests, and items that needed to be read and acknowledged. He signed and rubbed his temples with his hands and put down the datapad he was using. He got up and stretched, rolling his head around to loosen muscles that had gotten stiff from staring at the desktop on his workstation.

  He looked over at the empty XO’s chair, where Loren spent much of his days. He worried for the man and hoped that this mission did something positive for the efforts to cure the DNA virus. Trying to distract himself, he turned around and headed to the rear of the bridge to inspect the sensor station. While originally Avenger had stayed tucked in the derelict mining facility, Elco had eventually ordered her out beyond the Anderson System to cruise at low velocity with her mag shield engaged. He hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by staying put where anyone could blunder onto the ship, plus if Avenger was farther out, she’d be able to see much more on her passive sensors. Elco scanned the sensor data and saw several civilian transports on commercial shipping lanes, and he noted their positions on the large display on the side bulkhead of the sensor area.

  “Anything interesting going on?” Elco asked Ensign Caho, his best sensor technician. Much like the Qualin Grosh in Commander (Second Rank) Elder’s Vipers, the human female was a whiz with her sensor equipment, and Elco made it a point to ensure the duty roster had her on the bridge whenever he was expecting trouble.

  “Nothing yet, Captain,” she replied quickly. “We’re just a hole in space, soaking up whatever floats our way.”

  They stared at the raw data take together for a minute or two, something Elco found relaxing. He could lose himself in the scrolling icons and old-fashioned looking LIDAR sweeps as he let his mind absorb all the information.

  Ensign Caho shifted in her seat, then tapped the screen, zooming in on that area.

  “Hmmm,” she muttered to herself.

  “Something I should know, Ensign?” Elco asked casually.

  “Well, I just saw something pop up, Captain. It’s an organized emissions pattern, not just strays. I’m betting the computer tosses it out in a few seconds as a recognized ship contact.”

  Captain Elco smiled at her self-confidence, and was about to ask her what made her so sure when the computer pinged lightly to signify a new contact. Actually, it was showing several contacts.

  “Now, don’t let this go to your head, Ensign,” Elco said with a smile. “What do we have here?” He looked at the larger display on the bulkhead and was surprised to see some names he recognized.

  “Talarans?” Elco said with a bit of surprise to Caho. “Any signs they’ve seen us yet?”

  “None, Captain, and if our estimates at the start of the war are still accurate, we have a good three or four minutes at these speeds before they do.”

  Elco counted the icons and ship types. “Looks a little light for a fleet element, probably a raiding force,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “I wonder what they’re doing here?”

  “Well, Anderson is relatively close to captured Talaran space,” Caho offered, “so they could be looking to conduct some hit and run raids on occupying forces.”

  “And they have enough hulls there to deal with most occupation forces we’ve run across,” Elco admitted.

  “It doesn’t look like they’re on an attack vector yet, though,” Caho replied. “Maybe they’ll send out some recon elements first?”

  “If that’s the case, it might be a good time for us to get closer and say hello,” Elco said. “We could always use the chance to exchange information, plus if they’re planning something here we need to make sure XO Stone’s mission doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.” He looked at the big holo at the front of the bridge and noted where all the contacts were. “If we get on the move soon, can we catch them before they get close enough to get a real good look at the inner system?”

  “I think so; let’s say no more than ten minutes before they can probably see well enough to decide where to send their forces.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Elco replied, and immediately headed forward to the helm stations. “Helm, plot out the Talaran force’s estimated course for the next ten minutes. Can we intercept that course of we keep our acceleration and speed within stealth parameters?”

  The Lieutenant keyed in the sequences and the computer thought about it. With the mag shield powered up and emissions kept to a minimum, Avenger had to limit her engine’s output in
order to not produce visible or electronically detectable drive exhaust, and the computer would decide what levels were acceptable to still maintain the ‘stealth’ profile.

  “Yes, we can, Captain,” the man replied.

  “Alright then, plot it and execute.”

  Elco then headed over to the communications station to have a message ready to send.

  Minutes later, Avenger’s directional hailing message was acknowledged and replied to. In typical Talaran fashion, it was curt and businesslike, and instructed them to drop their mag shield and broadcast a clear IFF signal.

  Elco studied the text-only message, then looked at the combat systems officer. “Drop the shield and send our IFF,” he commanded.

  He watched a video feed looking ahead of Avenger on the main screen. They were still too far away for a visual contact, but he guessed it was just human nature to want to try. He shifted his focus closer and studied the holo field, seeing Avenger’s icon closing on the group of ten Talaran vessels. The database had identified nine out of the ten ships by name, and he recognized the captain of one of them. He saw the Pullar, lastly under the command of Captain Lazaf, an acquaintance of Elco’s from early in the war.

  “Comm, send a message to the Pullar and ask if I might speak to Captain Lazaf,” Elco said, to which the officer quickly complied.

  “Captain,” Ensign Caho called out, “the Talarans haven’t lowered their shields, and their weapons systems show active but not tracking.”

  “Interesting,” Elco muttered, “I wonder if they know something we don’t know.”

  “Hail from Pullar, Captain,” the comm officer interjected. “Visual signal.”

  “Put it on main display,” Elco replied.

  The visage of Captain Lazaf appeared on the main screen, but it wasn’t the genial image Elco remembered. Oh, it was the same man, Elco admitted, but Lazaf appeared perturbed, hard-faced.