…Till It’s Over!

The First Five Chapters

Robert M. Kerns

Copyright © 2019 by Robert M. Kerns

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means--electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise--without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any place or person (whether organic or inorganic life-form) is unintended and purely coincidental.

Published by Knightsfall Press

PO Box 280

Mineral Wells, WV 26150

https://www.knightsfallpress.com

Important Note

This file contains only the first five (5) chapters of …Till It’s Over!, which is scheduled to release 6 August 2019.

Be ye warned!

The chapters contained herein have never been seen by my excellent editor and, as such, may be a bit rough. Any comments/blame/angry mobs with pitchforks and torches should be sent to me.

Chapter One

Briefing Room, Haven

Docking Slip 12, The Gate

Tristan’s Gate

24 April 3000, 09:15 GST

Cole leaned back against his seat as he scanned the faces looking back at him. Sasha, Emily, Garrett, Sev, and Painter occupied seats around the table. Sasha sat at Cole’s right hand, Painter at Cole’s left. Emily sat on Sasha’s right side, Sev across from her. Garrett was the odd man out; he chose to sit at the far end of the table, facing Cole…but that’s just the kind of person he was.

“So,” Cole said, calling the meeting to order, “I know I told everyone that the purpose of this meeting was to discuss the plan for the Alpha Centauri trip, but there are a couple things I need to cover beforehand. Sev, what’s the status of our construction project at the shipyard?”

“As we’ve discussed in the past, the biggest bottle-neck was working through getting the materials from the fabricators aboard Haven to the shipyard where the craft are actually built. It took us most of November and a week or so into December to work through that. Since then, though, we’ve been churning out one per day, handing them off to the test-pilots. Srexx has also been helping with diagnostics and certification.”

Cole grinned, almost like a small child faced with a mountain of presents. “So…I have my air wing?”

Sev looked like he wanted to sigh. “We’re still waiting on two bombers to be produced today and tomorrow. Then, we start the testing and certification process for the dropships. If everything with those goes well, we should have Haven up to its full complement in a little over two weeks.”

Cole nodded and shifted his attention to Emily. “Well, the wrench jockeys have done their part, CAG. How are my pilots?”

“You do realize that calling this your ‘air wing’ and calling me ‘CAG’ is such a misnomer it’s almost sad, right?” Emily asked.

“And just what would you call them, then? I haven’t exactly seen an abundance of modern carriers, from which to draw inspiration. Have you?”

Emily lowered her eyes to look at the table and gave in to her defeat. “Okay. You have me there. I’ve been running everyone who passed basic qualification as pilots through the simulators. Some have washed out, but most haven’t. There are enough that I’ve decided we’re going to rotate pilots through the maintenance and support crews. I’ve looked up some of the pilot culture stuff you’ve referenced from the wet navies back on Earth, not to mention my own experiences with Aurelian SDFs, and I’m not having that pilot-elitist crap in our unit. The past week or so, I’ve been running them through the scenarios you’ve been using for the HES ships, just a day behind.”

Cole blinked. “You’ve been…oh, damn. How’d that work out for them?”

“Not so well, at first. The HES ships didn’t really put up much defense in the sims, but Haven’s point defense shredded them. It was almost embarrassing. The upside is that they can now fly and fight in formation without any collisions. That’s always a plus.”

“I’d say so,” Cole agreed, nodding. “Would you trust them at your side in combat out in space?”

“Yes, I would, and I’m not just saying that because they’re my people. They’ve come a long way in two months, and they’re as good as they’ll get without flying actual sorties. There’s only so much you can learn in simulations.”

“Okay, then. Don’t post it yet, but I want you to establish two rosters for each ship’s shift: combat area patrol and ready alert. Anytime we’re moving in a system, the combat area patrol is out and about. True, Haven’s sensors make it wicked difficult for anything to surprise us, but if the fighters are already out there, that just means less time to active engagement if we need them. The ready alert roster will be the patrol’s reinforcements, for want of a better term.”

Emily nodded once and made some notes in her data tablet.

Cole shifted his attention to Garret. “Okay, Garrett. It’s your turn. What’s the word on Lindrick? Have you found him yet?”

Garrett shook his head. “He is either a very slippery fellow or so busy it’s almost beyond belief. We seem to be chasing his coat-tails more than anything else. When my people arrive in a system, he either just left or was never there. I do have some unconfirmed reports that he has linked up with some deserters from Aurelian armed forces, but I have no corroboration on that nor any significant detail, really. My people and I will keep doing what we do. Don’t worry; we’ll run the bastard to ground eventually.”

Just as Cole was turning to Sasha, the overhead speakers chirped and broadcast, “Bridge to Cole!”

Cole frowned at the urgency in Mazzi’s tone and pressed the key on the control pad by his right hand to accept the call. “I’m here, Mazzi.”

“A fleet just arrived via the jump gate to Ruusae. It appears to have corvettes, frigates, destroyers, cruisers, and battleships…from what we can see at this range. The ship’s sensors also detected a message broadcast from what we believe to be the fleet’s flagship.”

Cole smiled. “Can you play that message for us?”

“Srexx just finished piecing it together. Playing it now.”

“People of Tristan’s Gate, I am Draketh Lindrick, and I have come to apprehend the terrorist, Paol Thyrray, and his family. If you choose to resist our lawful efforts, I will blockade this system and raid any shipping flagged by your star system.”

“Hey, Cole?” Garrett said.

“Yeah, Garrett?”

“We found Lindrick.”

“Thanks for the update,” Cole replied. “I appreciate all the difficult work you do.”

Grins threatened to escape the others seated around the table.

“Mazzi,” Cole said, “bring the ship to alert status. Issue an immediate recall of any personnel aboard the station, and start bringing up the TacNet with the SDF we’ve practiced in the simulations. What HES ships do we have in-system?”

Mazzi was silent for a moment before answering, “We have most of them. Prioritizing the air wing pushed back their refits, so they’ve been running jobs as convoy escorts.”

“Okay. Good. Have the cruisers start moving into a transit formation centered on us…as soon as we undock. Split most of the destroyers and frigates off to be close protection on any non-combatants in the system, but I want a decent screen on Haven. Has the station seen the arrival or the message yet?”

“No, sir. The light from their arrival won’t make it here for another five-and-a-half hours, give or take…with the message right after that.”

“Right then,” Cole said, adding a sigh. “I’m going to need a conference call with the head of the SDF and the Defense Minister, then. You should probably page our SDF liaison to be here for the call, as well.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, Mazzi. Thanks. Cole out.”

The overhead speakers chirped again, and Cole looked to Painter and Sev. “Unless you two want to rack up some combat hours, you’d best head back to the station. Hey, Srexx…you with us?”

“Of course, Cole.”

“You’ve had time to scan through the ship schematics for Aurelian ships. How would you rate the effectiveness of our air wing against their corvettes?”

“Honestly, Cole, they should abandon ship to save us the effort.”

“All right, then. How about an Aurelian frigate?”

“Our fighters will take some hits, but I anticipate the shields and armor will provide ample protection.”

“Okay. What about destroyers, then?”

Silence.

“That would be…unwise, Cole. The destroyers—especially if any are Dawn-class—possess extensive point-defense batteries. While the shields and armor on the fighters are the best I and my schematics can provide, they simply do not have the amount of protection an actual starship possesses.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Srexx.” Cole turned to Emily. “Start prepping your people. Their role will be taking out as many corvettes and frigates as they can, to keep our destroyers and frigates from needing to work.”

Painter and Sev both stood. Sev directed a look at his daughter that seemed to carry all manner of unspoken communication, the most obvious of which was the ages-old parental ‘be careful.’ He followed Painter out of the briefing room. No one worried about them finding their way; they’d been aboard so many times, Haven was almost a second home.

In five minutes, the briefing room hatch opened once more to admit Lieutenant Commander Brianna Vance, resplendent in her SDF working uniform. She stepped to the table and snapped to attention.

“Lieutenant Commander Vance, reporting as ordered, sir!”

Cole wanted to growl and grind his teeth. Despite the best efforts of people like Sasha and Mazzi, he’d managed to keep a much more relaxed atmosphere aboard Haven than he was sure he’d find aboard any other ship just about anywhere, and Brianna Vance was as much a bad influence as they were. Oh, he knew discipline and structure and all that was important, but Cole wasn’t military. And what’s more, he wasn’t going to be military.

“I believe we’ve already had this talk, Commander Vance,” Cole said. “I appreciate the respect, but saluting and ‘Attention on deck!’ and all that rot is not who I am. Have a seat.”

“Aye, sir,” Brianna said as she pulled out the second chair down the table on Cole’s left and sat.

A sound reached Cole’s ears from Sasha’s direction, and he thought it sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Ah, well…one must always pick one’s battles.

“You sent for me, sir?” Brianna asked, drawing Cole’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Cole nodded. “A fleet arrived through the Ruusae jump gate. Lindrick is commanding it, and he’s come for the Thyrrays. Even if I were inclined to let him have two of my people, I’ll be dipped in tar and lit aflame before I give anything to the man who oversaw my families’ massacre. The ships that answer to me are going out there, and we’re going to pound Lindrick’s fleet into scrap until they surrender and turn over Lindrick to me. I’m just waiting on a conference call with the SDF commander and the Defense Minister to update them on the plan.”

Brianna’s eyes looked like they wanted to bulge. “Uhm, sir…what if they decide to handle this differently? What if they activate your SDF credentials?”

Cole shrugged. “I never wanted those credentials in the first place, and while I do consider myself to be a team player, the only team I play for is mine. I’m not calling them to ask their permission, Brianna. I’m calling them to explain how this will happen.”

Now, Brianna looked like she wanted to find a safe place to hide. “Uhm, sir…I’m not sure that’s the best tack to take on this. I can’t tell my ultimate commanding officer and the civilian head of the SDF that we’re not going to listen to them.”

“I wasn’t asking you to, Brianna. I’ll handle the conversation. If you feel this puts you in an untenable position, you’re welcome to return to SDF Command aboard the station.”

“I can’t do that…sir,” Brianna countered. “I was assigned as your liaison by SDF Command. My duty station is here.”

“Look, Brianna, I get it. You’re an SDF officer. That’s your thing. The small problem is that no one ever asked me if I wanted an SDF liaison officer, and quite frankly, things were moving too fast when this little bombshell was dropped for me to care about giving your commanders the proper response of ‘Go to Hell.’ It’s nothing on you. These last few months, I’ve forgotten you were even aboard. I’m sure that’s exactly what you love hearing, but I do appreciate how you’ve kept yourself out from under foot. Though, I have been meaning to ask you if you enjoyed those sparring sessions with Srexx, where you tried to hack your way into the protected schematics for this ship.”

“Brianna?” Sasha almost shouted.

Brianna turned equal shades of an embarrassed red and a frightened pale, coming out looking almost pink as she squeaked, “You knew about that?”

“We’re getting a bit far afield, but since Mazzi hasn’t called with that conference link…yes, I knew about it. Srexx works for me, and even if he didn’t, we’re friends. There is zero chance something like that would happen and he wouldn’t tell me about it. It was my idea to let you find that archive you downloaded. Did you ever hear anything back from that?”

“Uhm, no? They just said to stop trying to steal information.”

Cole grinned. “I’m glad they didn’t hold it against you. The archive you downloaded was—in truth—a sophisticated virus. It gave Srexx access to the data-net of whoever put you up to it and allowed him to replace all their research data with audio files of animal farts. He asked for my input on what to do, and I thought animal farts would be the best illustration of my thoughts on the matter. I’m pretty sure he even got their backups, too.”

Sasha and Emily couldn’t maintain their composure any longer. They both erupted in howls of glee and mirth.

“Cole, you didn’t!” Sasha said, between fits of laughter.

“Of course I did, and you should be very glad Srexx asked me for input. He was just going set up a logic bomb that would’ve shredded the entire government data-net beyond salvage. I thought that was a little extreme for a first offense. If they hadn’t given up, though, we might have reached that point.”

Cole’s words ripped all mirth out of Sasha. Memories of Srexx offering to begin preparations to take over the entire data infrastructure of the Aurelian Commonwealth went through her mind.

“Thank you for your restraint,” Sasha said.

Just then, the overhead speakers chirped, broadcasting, “Bridge to Cole.”

Cole tapped the comms control by his right again. “I’m here, Mazzi.”

“I have that conference call for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Mazzi. Put it through.”

The speakers did a double chirp, and the briefing room’s holo-projector activated to display the two people on the call from their shoulders up. General Elizabeth “Beth” Trumball was a straight-forward, no-nonsense woman who didn’t care for any beating around the bush; Cole rather liked her, except for how rigidly military she was. Defense Minister Mattias Stone made Cole think of an old-Earth weasel; his slicked-back dark hair and pointed nose almost proclaimed his untrustworthiness. That assessment, however, couldn’t have been farther from the truth, as all Mister Stone wanted was the best defense for Tristan’s Gate.

“Hello, General and Defense Minister,” Cole said. “Thank you for taking my call.”

“What can we do for you, Coleson?” General Trumball asked. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“I just thought you might like to know a fleet commanded by Draketh Lindrick arrived through the Ruusae jump gate about a half-hour ago, and he sent the message I’m passing over now.” Cole accessed his implant and attached the message to the conference call.

Moments later, General Trumball scoffed. “Now, do you see why I keep arguing for the system leadership to nationalize that damned ship, Defense Minister? The sensors aboard that thing reported the fleet’s arrival when we haven’t seen its light yet. We won’t even get updates from the outer forts for another four hours at best. We need that technology!”

“Now, General,” Defense Minster Stone said, “this isn’t really the best time for that, and besides, the system leadership has already voted down your numerous requests and proposals in this matter. The potential for failure and negative outcomes far exceeds the potential for success and positive outcomes.”

“And let me be very clear,” Cole said. “That’s not something you want to fail on the first attempt.”

“No, Mr. Coleson, it isn’t,” Stone replied. “The system leadership understands that very well. Thank you for your notification of this issue, sir. I shall bring it to the Prime Minister’s attention, and we’ll have a course of action shortly.”

“With all due respect, Defense Minister,” Cole countered, “I wasn’t calling to play ‘Mother, may I.’ I’m taking my ships out there, and I’m going to deal with that fleet. When Haven returns, Lindrick will be dead or in my brig. You should issue a travel advisory for the combat that will be occurring shortly.”

“Now, see here!” General Trumball growled. “This is an SDF matter. Don’t make me activate your commission, Colonel.”

“General, I think-” Defense Minister Stone began.

Cole interrupted him. “General, like I told your so-called liaison that could better be termed a spy, I never wanted that commission. The way it was explained to me, it was a fig leaf to allow me to hire the military portion of the shipyard to repair the ships that defected from the Commonwealth and build my small craft, and my bank records indicate the projects have been very beneficial for Tristan’s Gate. If you think you can use that commission to bludgeon me, General, you’re a bigger fool than you look. Defense Minister, as soon as we close this call, I’m taking Haven out to meet them. Keep the citizens at a safe distance; I don’t want anyone hurt. Cole out.”

The conference call ended on the image of General Stone almost spitting fire and Defense Minister Stone looking resigned.

Cole stood and said, “Let’s go, people. There are ships waiting for us.”

Chapter Two

Thirty-four ships awaited them just beyond the near-station traffic patterns, and Haven took up its position in the formation when it arrived. The status lights around the bridge glowed amber, proclaiming the ship to be at alert status as everyone throughout the ship worked to ensure Haven was as battle-ready as possible.

The moment Haven slid into position at the center of the formation, Cole called for a fleet conference, specifically asking for Emily and Harlon to join himself and Sasha in the flag briefing room. Unlike the bridge briefing room, the flag briefing room had the capability to conference hundreds of captains in an almost-VR-like environment. As close as all the ships were, the comms wouldn’t have any latency.

“Mazzi, you have the bridge,” Sasha said as she followed Cole on his way out of the bridge.

Mazzi nodded once, saying, “Aye, ma’am,” and moving to the center seat.

Stepping through the port hatches, Cole turned left and walked aft. The flag bridge occupied the compartment just aft of the bridge briefing room and the flag briefing room was just aft of that. All in all, it was a short walk.

Emily and Harlon stood by the hatch to the briefing room, waiting for Cole to arrive. Cole nodded in greetings to each and led the way into the space. This wasn’t the first time Cole had entered the flag briefing room, but it was the first time the space was put to its intended use. Cole wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one side, combat wasn’t good, no matter how you looked at it. On another side, though…if a fight had to happen, Cole didn’t mind doing what needed done to ensure he or his people walked away from it. Out of the all the possible reasons to take his ships into a fleet action, taking down Draketh Lindrick was a task to which Cole harbored no objections.

As Cole assumed his seat at the ‘head’ of the table, he couldn’t help but marvel at the capabilities of the flag briefing room. The holo-cameras in the room would record the images of everyone present for transmission between the other ships in the fleet, and holos of the other captains and their first officers would soon appear in a hemisphere facing the physical occupants.

Cole didn’t have to wait long. It seemed he had no sooner planted himself in the seat when pairs of holos began appearing, becoming a hemisphere of faces hovering over the briefing room table. Cole recognized everyone; after all, he’d run them ragged through simulated fleet maneuvers over the past few weeks. Truth be told, it was more for his sake than theirs, as almost everyone looking back at him had at least a decade of naval and ship-driving experience.

“Hello,” Cole said. “I want to thank all of you for coming. Is everyone aware of our reason for assembly today?” When no one spoke up to the contrary, Cole resumed. “Good. You will be receiving your unit assignments shortly. One could hope that the ships in Lindrick’s fleet will surrender when I call for it, but I think we all know the odds of that happening. I have one goal for this engagement: kill or capture Draketh Lindrick. To that end, I will be asking Srexx to devote as many resources as he deems appropriate to verifying Lindrick’s presence in the fleet and identifying the specific ship Lindrick inhabits. Once that is accomplished, that ship’s IFF code in our TacNet will change to ‘Do Not Engage.’ This gentleman on my left is the commander of the ground forces aboard Haven. He will launch a mission to board Lindrick’s flagship and capture him…if not the whole ship. I will leave the minor details up to him and his people. I just want Lindrick.

“The order of battle for this engagement is as follows. You’re welcome to engage your size class and down. Leave the two battleships to Haven. They will pound anyone else in our formation to scrap in no time. I’m anticipating a number of frigates and corvettes to break off and attempt a rush for the shipping lanes. Let them. I have a surprise for them.”

“If I may,” one of the cruiser captains said, “would you care to elaborate on this surprise? It’s all well and good to surprise the opposition, but we’re not the opposition.”

Cole grinned. “No. You are certainly not. Ladies and gentlemen, Haven is a Class I Battle-Carrier, as I’ve said many times in the past. We are only short two bombers and the dropships based on Haven’s technology before our small craft complement is complete. For the first time since Humanity left Earth, we will deploy fighters in a naval engagement.” The expressions looking back at Cole ranged from disbelief to eagerness and, in a couple cases, outright glee. “Are there any other questions?”

No one spoke.

“Oh…one last item of note. I would like to hope this last topic will not be needed. That being said, we live in an uncertain galaxy. I know it’s all spelled out in your employment paperwork, but if the topic should arise among your crews, know that I will stand by my commitment to ensure the welfare of the families of any we lose today. Each and every one of you is part of the collective I label as ‘my people,’ families included, and those families don’t stop being ‘my people’ just because the direct employee is no longer with us. For anyone who treats with me in loyalty, I will return that loyalty ten-fold.

“Okay. Rest your people, and be ready. I’ll call the fleet to battle-stations thirty minutes from contact. Thank you.”

Cole nodded once and stood from the table, ending the conference.

“Harlon, prep your teams. Emily, I want them to have the best pilots flying escort for the dropships. As soon as we confirm Lindrick’s presence and verify a location, Harlon, you’re on the clock.”

Harlon nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

“All right, then,” Cole said. “Let’s do this.”

Emily and Harlon broke off from Cole and Sasha, disappearing into a transit shaft. Sasha walked with Cole at his right elbow.

“You want to pilot one of the assault ships, don’t you?” Sasha’s tone made it sound more like a statement than a question.

Cole nodded. “It feels wrong to be back here, sitting on the bridge, while they go out there. I understand the whole ‘burden of command’ thing. It’s all over the courses I’ve been studying to attain the Captain certification from the ISA, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Sasha stopped, turning to face him and drawing Cole to stop as well. “I know, Cole. The best leaders never do like it.”

“I never wanted to be a leader, Sasha.”

“We don’t always get what we want, Cole, but if we’re lucky, we have what we need. My sister and I would be dead if not for you. Yeleth and Wixil also, probably. Maybe even my parents and brother. Have you ever stopped to consider just how many lives you’ve impacted in the past nine months?”

Cole resumed walking. The bridge hatch was less than five meters away now. “I know, Sasha, and if I had it all to do over again, I can’t think of one thing I’d honestly change. Besides, if the massacre had never happened, I still would’ve most likely ended up a leader. I was an only child, after all, and I don’t remember my parents ever discussing more kids.”

“So, I think it’s time you took the center seat,” Sasha said. “You handle yourself well in the simulations, and…well…I think it’s time.”

Cole sighed. “I don’t get to pilot even Haven now?”

“Nope,” Sasha rejoined. “Time to put on those big boy pants, Cole. You’re the captain.”

Cole did his best to return a very put-upon sigh, but the effect was marred just a bit by the hints of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

Turning into the hatch, Cole led Sasha onto the bridge, and for once, he didn’t frown or sigh when Mazzi called out, “Captain on the bridge!”

“I have the conn,” Cole said as he moved to occupy the center seat. Sasha moved to his right side as Cole continued, “Wixil, would you come here, please?”

Wixil looked up from where she occupied her customary seat at Mazzi’s elbow and moved to stand before Cole and Sasha. Cole knew her well enough to see the concern radiating off her, but to anyone who didn’t know her, she was relaxed and almost unconcerned.

“Wixil,” Cole said, “the time has come for me to become the ship’s captain in truth and not just the owner who pilots the ship and acts the role for video comms. That leaves a vacancy at the helm I want filled by the best person possible. You have the highest scores in piloting, spatial awareness, and reaction time…of the entire crew. The position of First Shift Helmsman is yours if you want it.”

Wixil’s ears perked up, and her tail went ramrod-straight. Cole couldn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. In an instant, though, that gleam faded, and her tail drooped. She looked to Mazzi. Cole didn’t miss the barely perceptible nod Mazzi gave her, either, and the happy adolescent was back.

“Yes, Cole, I want it!”

Cole grinned and nodded once. “Take your station, then, Wixil.”

Mazzi summoned additional crew to assist her with the weapons stations, the starboard recession soon filling with two more people.

Wixil pivoted and almost dashed to the helm, sliding into the seat there as if it had been made for her. “Helm ready, Captain!”

“Mazzi, do we have the fleet’s TacNet up?”

“Yes, sir. All links are showing green.”

“Wixil,” Cole said, “plot an intercept course to Lindrick’s fleet, and send it to the TacNet for distribution throughout the fleet.”

From Cole’s vantage point, he could tell Wixil’s fingers danced across the helm console from the movements of her forearms. Two minutes passed, and she announced, “I have the course, Captain, and I’ve copied it to TacNet.”

A minute later, Jenkins at Comms said, “All ships report the course locked in, Captain.”

“Thank you, Jenkins. Wixil, take us out.”

“We’re about thirty minutes from contact, Captain,” Wixil announced.

Cole resisted the urge to frown. It appeared he had overestimated Mazzi’s influence on her. She hadn’t addressed him as ‘Cole’ since he gave her the helm. On further reflection, though, his little speech may have played a role, too. Nah…it was all Sasha and Mazzi’s fault. Had to be. He was too full of laid-back irreverence for any of it to be his fault.

“Thank you, Wixil,” Cole said and looked at the port-side recession.

For the first time since Haven carried a full complement of people, crewmembers occupied the stations of the port-side recession: Flight Ops and Marine Ops. Cole didn’t have their names memorized yet, but both junior officers looked eager to be a contribution.

“Flight Ops, my compliments to the CAG, if you would please. Begin launching fighters.”

Cole watched the tactical plot as dots far smaller than their smallest frigate began leaving the bow of Haven four abreast. Even though the space overlooking the flight deck was the domain of the position Cole had termed ‘Air Boss,’ Cole knew Emily would be there, too…watching her people leave the ship for their very first combat deployment. In fifteen minutes, sixty fighters took up their respective positions in the fleet, creating a ring around Haven.

“Flight Deck signals all fighters launched, Captain,” the lieutenant at Flight Ops reported. “They are starting preparations to launch the boarding parties now.”

Cole nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Sasha, I’d like you at my side for this next part.” When Sasha was standing at Cole’s right elbow, he said, “Jenkins, record a message for transmission. Make sure Sasha is in the video.”

“You’re on, sir.”

“Attention, incoming fleet. My name is Bartholomew James Coleson, and I command the Battle-Carrier Haven and this battle-group. I do not recognize Draketh Lindrick’s claim to the Thyrrays, and I myself have unfinished business with Lindrick. Surrender and turn over Lindrick to me; this doesn’t have to be anymore unpleasant than it already is. If you force me to engage your fleet, I can assure you that none of your ships will escape unscathed. Coleson out.”

“Message recorded,” Jenkins said, “and it’s ready to transmit.”

“Send it, please, all channels and frequencies.”

Jenkins replied, “Sent, sir.”

“Mazzi, battle-stations, please. Jenkins, please, signal the fleet to assume combat formation,” Cole said.

Klaxons blared throughout the ship as status lights shifted from amber to red.

“Also sent, sir,” Jenkins said.

Cole watched the fleet re-arrange itself into a series of formations in which the destroyers and frigates centered themselves around the cruisers that pulled away from Haven.

“Mazzi, your primary targets are the two battleships. If—no, when—this goes down, split our torpedoes between them. The cruisers are your secondary targets. Srexx?”

“Yes, Cole?” the AI responded via the overhead speakers.

“If Lindrick is over there, I want to know where.”

“Yes, Cole.”

“Mazzi, as soon as Srexx provides a location on Lindrick, shift the targeting priority on that vessel to shields, weapons, shuttle bays, and engines…in that order.”

“Aye, sir,” Mazzi replied.

Just then, a mass of dots appeared around the enemy ships on the tactical plot.

“Missile launch!” Mazzi announced. “Tracking seven-hundred-fifty—repeat: seven-five-zero—incoming birds. Flight time is six minutes.”

“Coordinate missile defense through TacNet,” Cole said, his voice calm and unworried. “All ships, weapons free.”

Cole watched his own ships launch a full complement of missiles and—from Haven—torpedoes.

“Cole,” Srexx said.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I have confirmed Lindrick’s location aboard the battleship Vanren’s Despair. I am highlighting it in the tactical plot.”

“Thank you, Srexx,” Cole replied, grinning. “Feel free to have fun now.”

“Yes, Cole. Thank you.”

“Marine Ops, my compliments to Colonel Hanson. Please advise him we have identified his target, and ask him to give us a few minutes to thin the herd before he launches.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Flight Ops, send our deployed fighters to thin those corvettes and frigates. They are to avoid any targets too close to destroyers or cruisers; the larger ships’ point-defense is too heavy.”

“Aye, sir!”

Cole watched the battle unfolding in the tactical plot. He held no illusions that he was some kind of tactical genius; it was his first action in full command, too. The enemy missiles were just reaching interception range, and his fleet’s interceptors were wreaking havoc. There wouldn’t be too many left for the point-defense batteries, at the rate things were going, but that was a good thing.

“Sasha, do I see a gap forming in the enemy formation? Right there. It looks like the destroyers and frigates along this line are re-positioning for…are they moving to intercept our torpedoes?”

Cole stood and stepped to the tactical plot, lifting his hands to zoom in on the space in question. Sure enough, a group of frigates and destroyers were re-positioning to serve as a shield wall for the battleships against the seventeen incoming torpedoes. The slowest moving projectiles on the field continued to close, and Cole watched as they first fired a volley of interceptors. Two torpedoes vanished. Now, those ships opened up with their full energy armament, including the point-defense batteries. Six more torpedoes vanished. One frigate took a torpedo almost square amidships and became an expanding cloud of debris. A destroyer took a torpedo about three-quarters back from its bow, and the after third of that ship ceased to exist, its reactor not even having time to go critical before it vaporized. Another destroyer took a torpedo almost square amidships like the frigate, but unlike the frigate, some of it survived…the forward third and aft third drifting and trailing sparks as they vented gases and water.

Six torpedoes still remained.

“Mazzi, re-target the remaining torpedoes to Vanren’s Despair. Focus on shields and weapons. Wixil, get us in there. Energy batteries free on targets of opportunity until we’re in range of the battleships; then, focus on subduing Despair.”

A chorus of “Aye, sir,” echoed from different stations around the bridge. Cole zoomed the tactical plot back out to see how the overall engagement was going. Just as Srexx had predicted, his fighters were shredding the corvettes; the frigates were slower to go down, but they were faring no better than their smaller counterparts. The other ships of his fleet hammered opposing vessels with both missiles and energy emplacements.

Cole knew when they’d crossed into ‘enemy territory.’ The ship started shuddering, taking hits on the shields.

“Outer shields at sixty-eight-percent and holding,” Mazzi announced. “We have two-percent bleed-through to the next layer, but it’s manageable. Energy batteries report ready.”

“Fire at will until we reach those battlewagons,” Cole said.

Cole blinked as a sphere of enemy ships—mostly frigates and destroyers this far from the enemy core—vanished from the tactical plot around Haven. That sphere became more of an oval as Haven bore down on the two battleships at the center of the enemy’s formation. Cole couldn’t keep from grinning when he saw three of his formations fall in behind Haven and push out the edges of the debris sphere in their wake.

An enemy formation made up of two cruisers and several destroyers made a firing run across Haven’s bow, and even on Deck Three, Cole felt the ship shake.

“Outer shield—forward arc—is down to forty-five-percent,” Mazzi announced, “and the fourth layer is down to ninety-two-percent.”

“Engineering reports they’re directing additional power to the forward shields,” Jenkins said.

Just then, Cole saw two of the dots representing his ships blink twice and fade out.

“Captain, the destroyer Achilles and the frigate Erinyes report they’ve taken heavy damage,” Jenkins announced.

Cole shifted the tactical plot to focus on his wounded ships. He could see several frigates moving in to finish the job…but those two wounded ships weren’t alone. A cluster of pin-pricks—no more than single pixels in the hologram—flitted around nearby frigates and corvettes.

“Flight Ops,” Cole said, “divert some nearby fighters to the Achilles and Erinyes until we can get a few more ships in there for support.”

“Aye, sir!”

Cole watched several of the fighters break off from the frigates they were harrying and shift to defend their wounded comrades. Two formations of destroyers were also moving to assist, and they’d arrive in time to shore up the defense against the incoming frigates. That situation handled, Cole shifted the tactical plot back to the ‘beach-head’ Haven was establishing in the enemy formation…just in time to experience his ship reaching energy range of the two battleships.

The deck heaved beneath Cole, as the battleships unleashed their energy weapons, and Cole was glad he’d put his feet in a wide stance. Flexing his knees, he managed not to face-plant the deck.

“Outer shields in the forward, port, and starboard arcs are down,” Mazzi announced. “Fourth layer at fifty-percent and dropping fast.”

“Well, I guess we’re in range of the battleships,” Cole remarked. “Mazzi, focus your fire on preparing the Despair for boarding. Give the other battleship everything that won’t help you subdue Despair. Srexx, can you put a read-out for the shields and hull on the tactical plot for me, please?”

The requested information appeared, and Cole watched the numbers as the battleships hammered Haven with everything they had. An eternity later—but only seven minutes and thirty-two seconds in reality—Mazzi called out, “Fire mission complete, Captain! Shifting weapons to second battleship.”

“Flight Ops,” Cole said, “launch the boarding parties with full fighter escort.”

A glance at the numbers on the plot showed Cole the starboard shields were down to the third layer, with a ten-percent bleed-through to the inner-most shields. Haven was giving as good as she got, though. The second battleship had already lost its shields facing Haven, and gases and water vapor vented through several deep rends Haven’s energy batteries gouged into the battleship’s hull.

Six assault shuttles—surrounded by eighty fighters—sped to the battleship off Haven’s starboard bow, which was left mostly intact lest a stray shot kill the one person on the other side Cole wanted to capture most. Those shuttles locked on to airlocks around the battleship as the fighters broke off to destroy any energy emplacements Haven’s weapons had simply deactivated.

“Jenkins, record a message for transmission,” Cole said.

“Ready, Captain,” Jenkins replied.

“Attention, enemy vessels. You have taken two—no, three—of my ships out of the fight, while my fleet has reduced your numbers by a third. I have active boarding operations occurring on your flagship, and my weapons crews are hammering the other battleship to scrap as I speak. Please…do not needlessly throw away the lives of your people. I will honor the surrender of any ship that does so. Coleson out.”

“Ready to transmit, sir.”

“Send it please, all channels and frequencies.”

Cole watched as enemy ships continued to disappear in puffs of holographic destruction. Cole feared his people would have to cripple every ship arrayed against them, which he very much didn’t want to do.

“Captain,” Jenkins called out, “we’re getting a flood of surrender requests!”

“Put me on live.”

“You’re on.”

“This is Cole. Surrendering ships, set your transponders to strobe, and cease hostilities. If you’re mobile, leave the engagement area. Any ships that have emergency needs, send that information, and I’ll do what I can. That is all.”

It wasn’t long before every transponder in the field was flashing, except for the battleship Vanren’s Despair.

“Captain,” the Marine Ops officer called out, “the boarding party reports a cessation of all resistance. The first officer is asking to surrender in exchange for Lindrick.”

Cole grinned. “Accepted, and ask the marines to deliver Lindrick to the brig once they’re back aboard. That bastard and I need to have a conversation.”

Chapter Three

Tristan’s Gate System

24 April 3000, 14:43 GST

The aftermath of the battle played out much as Cole’s previous actions had…except, this time, Cole was in command. Stepping Haven down from battle-stations to alert status, Cole asked the ships of his fleet to start moving through the surrendered vessels and wreckage, performing Search And Rescue wherever appropriate. It was a grim task, wrapped in clouds of hope. Cole insisted on bringing any in need of urgent medical attention aboard Haven. One question kept appearing from among the survivors, “What will happen to us now?”

The people on the front line didn’t have an answer. They kicked the question up the chain until it reached Cole, but Cole didn’t have an answer, either. At one time, he would’ve jumped at the chance to interview people with Kiksaliks to determine if they were viable recruits. Haven was full-up now, though. Sadly, though, several of the HES ships were not…not anymore.

Cole announced that he’d have an answer for the survivors once they’d returned to The Gate and conducted an after-action analysis. Cole’s attention to after-action matters evaporated, however, at a simple text message from Harlon sent direct to Cole’s implant: We got him.

Cole entered the common area of the brig. Several of his ground forces milled about, discussing the boarding operation. Everyone snapped to attention at Cole’s entrance, but he didn’t notice. Cole only had eyes for one man. He walked straight to Harlon and lifted his hands in question.

“Well? Where is he?”

Harlon turned, looked over Cole’s expression and stance for a moment. Then, he nodded his head toward the corridor that went to the maximum security cells. “This way.”

Harlon led Cole down the corridor. They passed through two check-points that required DNA verification before proceeding. Cole approved. At last, Cole stood before a cell with a single occupant. The cell contained a bed, a combination sink/toilet, and a sonic shower with a partition that went up to a short person’s shoulder. Everything was that painful shade of bright white.

The cell’s occupant paced across the cell’s width like a caged animal. It wasn’t much of a circuit. Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn. He looked young for a general, and Cole thought he noticed some slight signs of rough treatment. Heh. Lindrick wasn’t lying on the floor, a bloody mess clutching his ribs, so Cole’s concern was largely non-existent.

“Can he see us?” Cole asked.

“Nope. Right now, the barrier is opaque on his side and totally sound-proof. We could set off a bomb over here, and he’d never know it.”

Cole nodded. “I want him to see me…hear me, too.”

Harlon lifted his arm and keyed a couple commands into the panel beside the cell’s entrance. Cole thought he heard a faint hum, but he wouldn’t have sworn to it. Lindrick stopped pacing, turned to look directly at Cole.

“So…you’re the young pup who got away,” Lindrick said, his voice rough and worn in person. “How’d you manage that? We burned that planet’s surface almost down to glass.”

“I wasn’t on the planet,” Cole replied. “I slipped out to teach myself how pilot Dad’s newest shuttle. I was in the asteroid field when you arrived.”

“Ah,” Lindrick responded. “Watched it all, then, did you?”

“Not really. I did see what was left.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to see that. You were…what…ten? Twelve, maybe?”

“I was thirteen,” Cole replied, his jaw clenched.

“So, this is it, then? Time to torture me to death for all my crimes against your family? Have me die screaming like they did?”

Cole took a deep breath and pushed the rage and hate from his mind. “Nope. My people will ask you questions, and you will answer them.”

Lindrick scoffed. “You have no concept of the interrogations I’ve survived. What makes you think your people can break me?”

Now, Cole allowed himself an almost-predatory grin. “Who said anything about breaking you?”

With that, Cole turned and left. Harlon took that as he cue to blank the barrier once again. Cole stopped at the first checkpoint he reached and turned to Harlon.

“Let him stew for a few hours. Garrett will handle his questioning, and there will be a Kiksalik or two plus an Igthon and a Ghrexel in the room. The Kiksaliks will get us everything we need.”

“There’s another option,” Harlon said.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Start flooding his cell with any of several dozen gases that ensure compliance. He’ll be so eager to talk by the time Garrett gets around to asking him anything, he’ll probably volunteer stuff we never thought to ask.”

Cole turned over that idea in his mind a couple times before nodding once. “I’ll mention it to Garrett. Since he’s in charge of this kind of thing, he can decide how to proceed.”

“Cole?”

Cole looked up at the overhead speakers as he walked down the corridor toward the bridge and smiled, saying, “Yeah, Srexx? How are you doing, buddy?”

“I am quite well, Cole. My status does not have the inherent variability present in organic life-forms.”

“Fair enough,” Cole replied. “What’s on your mind?”

“Have you given any thought to the fate of the wreckage?”

Cole stopped at the bridge’s port hatch. “Not really. Why do you ask?”

“The ship’s supply of raw material is low, as we used most of what we’d accumulated plus purchasing even more regolith and unwanted ore to make the parts for the air wing. It might be wise to apply for salvage rights on the wreckage and, once it’s broken up, feed the pieces to the recyclers. Doing so would also provide what we need to stock up on munitions for the air wing.”

“Okay. I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you, Cole.”

Cole pivoted and stepped across the corridor to the hatch that led to his office. It opened at his approach and revealed Akyra Tomar sitting at her desk. She looked up at the hatch’s opening and smiled at seeing Cole.

“Hello, sir! How’d the battle go?”

“We’re towing three of our ships back to the shipyard, and many more are making provisional repairs. Lindrick is in the brig.”

Akyra smiled. “I’ll bet you’re happy about that. I mean…the ‘capturing Lindrick part,’ not our ships needing repairs.”

Cole grinned. “It’s okay, Akyra. I translated. Srexx brought up a very good point. We’re low on material for the recyclers and fabricators. Would you prepare a salvage claim for filing with the system authorities?”

“Of course, sir! I’ll get right on it and forward the completed claim to you for review once I’m finished.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Send it to Painter on The Gate and ask her to hire enough salvage crews to get the job done before we leave if the claim’s approved.”

Akyra nodded once. “Aye, sir! Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Akyra,” Cole replied and stepped back through the hatch to the corridor.

Sasha looked up as the hatch cycled to permit Cole’s entrance to the bridge, and she smiled as she vacated the captain’s chair.

“You’re just in time.”

There was far too much gleam in her eyes for Cole’s liking. “I’m just in time for what?”

“A message just came in from the surrendered ships. I haven’t reviewed it yet.”

“Kicking the can up the chain, are we?”

Sasha grinned. “Why not?”

“Jenkins, my first officer tells me a message just arrived,” Cole said.

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Might as well get it over with,” Cole replied. “Put it on the forward viewscreen.”

The viewscreen came to life, displaying the visage of woman just a few years older than Sasha. Her dark hair was in slight disarray, and grease spots dotted her forehead, left cheek, and what Cole could see of her uniform’s shoulders.

“This message is for Captain Bartholomew Coleson. I’m Commander Brenna O’Keefe, and I’ve been chosen to represent the survivors among the surrendered ships. Please, forgive my appearance; it’s been an all-hands operation just to keep life support going on my ship.

“It’s impossible not to recognize the ships now moving throughout the remains of our fleet, broadcasting transponders starting with ‘HES.’ We don’t know what ‘HES’ means, but all of us saw Sasha Thyrray at your shoulder during your initial communication. The survivors of our fleet have directed me to ask if you have a place for us within your organization. I understand that you probably want nothing to do with us, since we were exchanging fire not too long ago, but we’re good people over here. We’ve never fired on life pods or blockaded jump gates. All we ask is that you give us a chance. Thank you. O’Keefe out.”

Cole sat in the center seat and leaned back against it, his expression thoughtful. He looked to Sasha, asking, “Thoughts?”

“The biggest question is whether we can or should use them to fill the crew complements aboard the ships we already have.”

Cole looked up at the ceiling for a moment before returning his eyes to Sasha and shaking his head. “No. As much as I’d like to think the people on our ships would be stand-up individuals, these potential recruits did just try to hammer all of us to scrap. It won’t be easy for a lot of people to forget that. Besides…if they were going hit me up for a job, why the hell didn’t they surrender straight away? Why force us to reduce so many of their ships to floating graveyards…or just debris fields?” Cole sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He walked to the helm station—or at least the back of its chair—and turned, walking back. “But if we don’t take them in, what happens to them? I can’t imagine the people of Tristan’s Gate are going to be so welcoming. I mean, the Commonwealth used to be one of their best trading partners from everything I’ve read. Now…now, the Commonwealth is just a source of refugees flooding their system and overloading their infrastructures, whether social, mechanical, or what have you.”

“So what do we do?” Sasha asked.

“Would the SDF have been able to fight them off, if we hadn’t been here?”

Sasha frowned. “Do you mean us as in Haven or us as in all our ships?”

“All our ships, including Haven.”

Sasha frowned. She angled her head to the right, almost like halfway shaking it ‘no,’ as she grimaced. “I don’t want to say ‘yes,’ but I don’t want to say ‘no,’ either. Cole, Lindrick brought a lot of firepower. It wasn’t quite the fifty-odd ships we adopted—for lack of a better term—but this wasn’t a task force or task group. Not at all. This was a battle-group, an actual armada. The SDF would’ve made a valiant fight of it, and they might have delivered enough damage that Lindrick would’ve developed cold feet and pulled back. But if he had pushed through? He had two battleships, Cole. They could have taken the SDF’s ships almost on their own.”

Cole nodded. “Okay. Next question. You just said the SDF can’t field anything larger than a light cruiser. Are they going to want any of these ships? Is General Tree-Up-Her-Ass going to give us any flack if we roll these ships into the ‘HES’ fleet?”

“General ‘Tree-Up-Her-Ass?’ Really?”

“Hey, I’m standing by that assessment. As foul as her disposition is, there’s no way it’s just a stick…not even a barbed stick.”

Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “There are days I think you’re showing so much progress, and mere moments when you utterly remove all hope.”

Cole lifted his hands as if to shrug. “What? At least I’m honest.”

“I think the best thing is to escort everyone back to the station and ask for a meeting with the Prime Minister and the Defense Minister to see if they want any of the ships…and Cole? Please, do not refer to the commander of the SDF as ‘General Tree-Up-Her-Ass’ during the meeting.”

“No promises.”

Chapter Four

Conference Room, The Gate

Tristan’s Gate

25 April 3000, 09:27 GST

Cole looked over the mass of people gathered in the ballroom-size space. He stood at the head of the group, at the edge of a portable table someone had provided. At the rate he was going, Cole thought he should maybe just go ahead and purchase the space, along with the offices where the interviews would be conducted.

“Is everything ready?” Cole asked.

Painter nodded. “Yes. Just like before, the interview staff—interviewers, guards, and Kiksaliks—will rotate out every four hours…four hours on, twenty hours off.”

“All right. Let’s get this party started.” Cole lifted his right hand to his mouth and produced a shrill whistle. “Listen up, people! Thank you for coming. We will begin the interviews shortly. The finding of each interview is final; there is no appeals process. Don’t lie. Don’t prevaricate. We don’t hire liars. We have your comms codes, and you have your scheduled timeslot for the interview. We’ll have food and drinks for you shortly, but don’t feel like you have to wait here. And yes, just in case anyone was about to ask, I’m ensuring everyone still aboard your ships is getting food, too. Painter, here, is in charge of the process. Disrespect her, and you won’t be hired. Disrespect any of my people, and you won’t be hired. That is all.”

Cole turned to Painter, asking, “You good?”

“Yeah. I know how much you love public speaking. Go on; get out of here.”

She didn’t have to tell Cole twice. He pivoted on his heel and strode to the hatch. When it opened, he found Sasha waiting for him. He started to make a joke, then took in her expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dad sent me a message,” Sasha said. “He’d like to speak with you.”

Cole nodded. “Okay. Did he say why?”

Sasha shook her head. “I mean, I could guess…but that’s all it would be.”

“Did he sound distressed in any way? Did he give you the impression he or your mother were in any danger?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have bothered you if that had been the case. A detachment of Marines and I would already be on the way. He sounded…nervous. Not ‘I have a laser pistol to my head’ nervous, though.”

Cole shrugged. “Well, no time like the present. I’ll head over to their apartment now. Anything else happening I need to know about?”

“I don’t think so. We still need to find someone to serve as Operations Officer. I’ve been kind of filling that role, but I’m supposed to be overseeing the department heads…not the department heads and one department.”

“Okay. Ask Mazzi if she wants it. She’ll need to recommend someone to take over as Weapons Officer if she does, though.”

“I’ll take her to lunch and see what she says about it in an informal conversation,” Sasha said.

Cole nodded. “All right, then. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, then. I’m off to see your folks.”

Sasha sighed. “Sometimes, Cole…you’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah, but life’s too short to be serious all the time.”

The address for Sasha’s parents led Cole to one of the better residential decks several levels above the docks. Typically, the further one lived above the docks the more affluent and respected the person was. Paol Thyrray, his wife, and their son lived just two decks below the ‘top’ of the station.

Cole approached the apartment’s hatch and pressed the chime control on the hatch panel. He didn’t wait long at all. The hatch opened, the ‘door’ sliding back into the bulkhead and revealing Sasha’s brother. He stood just inside the hatch, dressed in a ‘casual’ suit made of a fabric that cost more credits per yard than some people spent on food in two months. He held a snifter in his right hand, and for the briefest moments, Cole saw a sneer before Nathyn schooled his features into a welcoming smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“Ah, Captain Cole! Do come in. Father said he’d summoned you.”

“He ‘summoned’ me, did he?” Cole asked.

“Well, yes. Didn’t you get the message?” Nathyn asked, missing the tone in Cole’s voice.

“Sasha said your father asked if I had time to speak with him, but she made no mention of a summons.”

Nathyn waved away Cole’s statement. “Well, of course! It’s always better to approach matters with the velvet glove instead of the iron gauntlet beneath it. We are Thyrrays, after all.”

“Yes…I suppose you are.”

“We need to sit down and discuss where we will be the most benefit,” Nathyn continued, still oblivious to Cole’s tone and darkening expression. “After all, we are exceptional people with enormous name recognition. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t called upon us sooner.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, of course, we excuse you. You’re a peasant freighter pilot who got lucky. You can’t be expected to understand the nuances of leading people. That’s why you need us in positions of authority and leadership. We will guide your growing empire and build it into the best version it could possibly be.”

Cole scratched the left side of his jaw as he glared at the back of Nathyn’s head. The longer he thought about the situation, the angrier he became. The last thing he wanted, though, was to alienate Sasha. She was his first officer, and he needed her far more than she needed him, even if there were few places she was safe from the bounties and warrants still levied against her by the Commonwealth. But Cole wasn’t the type to hold that over a person’s head.

“I don’t think we have much to discuss,” Cole said, putting all his willpower into diplomacy. “I’ll just be on my way.”

“Now, see here! You were summoned by Paol Thyrray,” Nathyn said, his voice rising, “and he hasn’t given you leave to depart. We are your betters, you jumped-up pirate.”

“Nathyn? What’s going on?” a voice asked, right before Paol stepped into the room.

Cole glared at Nathyn, his visage fit to melt a starship’s armor. “I have never once considered being a bounty hunter, but I will not tolerate your attitude. I have half a mind to ship your entitled, worthless ass back to the Commonwealth, and damn the consequences. If you have even a shred of the wisdom possessed by an errant street child, you will go a damn long time before you contact me again.”

Cole pivoted on his heel and headed for the hatch.

“Cole, please! Wait!” Paol said as he stepped past his son.

Cole stepped through the hatch and stopped in the corridor, turning to face Sasha’s father as he said, “Give me one reason why I should.”

Paol stopped. His mouth moved as if he meant to speak, but no words came. After a moment, Paol sighed. “I don’t have one. I apologize for my son’s behavior. He wasn’t always like that…or at least, I didn’t think he was. If you can find it to forgive-”

“Father!” Nathyn cried, aghast. “There is no reason to debase yourself before-”

Paol pivoted to face his son. “You’ve made enough of a mess of this. Be silent, or go elsewhere.” Turning back to Cole, he continued. “If you can find it to forgive me, I would like a few moments of your time.”

Almost every fiber of Cole’s being screamed for him turn and leave without another word. Nathyn’s conduct thus far demonstrated he was the exact opposite of the type of people Cole wanted on his team, and Cole didn’t feel even slightly calm enough to summon a clear head for any kind of important discussion. Still, though…there was Sasha. She was one of his people, and Cole would crawl over ground glass for one of his people.

“Fine,” Cole said, adding a sigh. “Your son has done an excellent job of predisposing me against whatever you have to say, so I advise you to be rather eloquent.”

“Could we…step inside?” Paol asked. “I’d prefer not to broach the topic in a public corridor.”

Cole stepped toward the hatch by way of an answer. Paol turned, leading Cole back into the apartment and gestured toward the available seating, saying, “Please, be seated.”

Cole sat, and Paol followed suit.

“I asked Sasha if you had time to speak with me to discuss a…delicate…matter. Cole, we survive at the sufferance of my wife’s parents. This apartment is theirs, an artifact of a time they routinely traveled to the station. It’s no secret that you’re building a rather impressive organization. Sev has spoken more than once of the work you’ve given him. I asked Sasha if you had any time for me, because I was hoping to discuss employment with you.”

“Paol, I’ll be honest with you. You don’t want me to answer that right now. I’m not exactly in the most neutral frame of mind. Work up a resume with your skills, talents, and interests, and send it to Akyra Tomar.”

“Are you insane? Drunk on power?” Nathyn exploded. “Paol Thyrray does not write resumes. You should be explaining why we should consider working for you!”

Paol sighed, lowering his head for a moment before returning his gaze to Cole. “Yes, I see what you mean. I’ll send something over as soon as I can.”

“Then, I think we’re done here,” Cole said, standing.

Cole departed the Thyrrays’ apartment and went straight to O’Shaughnessy’s. It was just 10:47, but Cole didn’t care. He was in the foulest mood he could remember in recent weeks, thanks to Sasha’s brother.

The pub was just opening for the pre-lunch and lunch crowds when Cole arrived, and he wasn’t sure there was another customer in the place. He sat on a stool in front of the bar and waited the few seconds for the bartender to arrive.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Cole grimaced. “I’m not sure. I just spent about a half-hour with the most conceited, entitled jackass I’ve had to endure in recent memory. What do you recommend?”

The bartender stood there for a moment. “You’re Cole, right? That captain who rescued the Howlers and the Thyrrays?”

Cole nodded.

“I imagine a lot of people are wanting a piece of you after all that success.”

“I’m not exactly short of applications.”

The bartender turned, pulled a bottle off a shelf, and filled a shot glass almost to the brim. He placed the glass in front of Cole.

“On the house. I feel kind of sorry for you.”

Cole picked up the glass and threw it back, swallowing the entire drink in one gulp. It was rather smooth, all things considered. He placed the glass back on the bar and nodded.

“Thanks,” Cole said, standing up from the bar. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fished around, withdrawing a palm full of credit chits. He saw one marked ‘50’ and dropped it on the bar by the empty glass. “Keep the change. I don’t like ‘on the house,’ too many ways for good people to get into trouble. I appreciate the thought, though.”

Cole turned and left the pub.

Painter looked up as Cole approached her table. The lunch carts ran down one bulkhead, presenting a buffet of incredible variety.

“How goes it?” Cole asked.

Painter nodded. “Oh, it goes. We’ve only had five so far that the Kiksaliks straight-up refused.”

“A part of me wonders what we’re going to do with all these people.”

Painter shrugged. “We need experienced ship handlers to collect resources to build the station and shipyard in Beta Magellan, not to mention construction workers with zero-g experience. They may not have construction time, but everyone here is a veteran spacer with all kinds of zero-g hours. It won’t be glamorous, but it will be a job. And they’ll be safe. What brings you back here? I thought you went back to the ship.”

“Don’t get me started. Sasha waylaid me with a ringer of a meeting.”

“That doesn’t sound like something Sasha would do,” Painter replied, frowning.

“Oh, I’m sure she both didn’t mean anything by it and had no idea how it would go down. That doesn’t change the fact that I think the last hour would’ve been better spent shooting myself in the foot several times. Okay. I’m going back to the ship to check on the other irons in the fire. Call me if you need me.”

Cole trudged back to the ship, his head down and his hands in his pockets. The past couple days circled through his mind. Jumped-up pirate? Ha…if that twit only knew. He’d met real pirates during the Jax years. Some of them, you’d never know. Others? Yeah, they looked the part.

Cole’s mind drifted to Red Pattel, the Pirate Lord of Sector 82. Oh, yes. Cole met her once. He’d even had her comms code for a time, but that piece of information didn’t survive Srexx melting his old implant. Fewer than ten people even knew Red Pattel was a she, and she’d wanted Cole—well, Jax—to join her crew. Not to mention she was rather pretty.

Turning down the corridor that led to his airlock, Cole sighed. No. Red had been right. Cole wasn’t a follower. It just wasn’t in his make-up. Whether it was something he’d absorbed growing up at the knee of the most powerful businessman in Human space or perhaps just a part of who he was, Cole was a leader. He charted his own course. He believed loyalty was a two-way street. Take care of your people, and they will take care of you. Nathyn Thyrray wouldn’t take care of his people. Cole knew that for sure and certain.

Which put him in a serious fix. Paol Thyrray was a statesman, the latest scion of a long line renowned for their work in lifting the Aurelian Commonwealth to the greatness it enjoyed not all that long ago. Cole needed a statesman for what he wanted to achieve in Beta Magellan. But he didn’t need a conceited, entitled twit who would prey on others. Not at all.

All of which meant the question of hiring Paol Thyrray would be very tricky, indeed.

Chapter Five

“Cole, do you have a few moments?” Srexx asked as Cole stepped through the inner hatch of the airlock.

Cole smiled, entertaining thoughts of turning Srexx loose on Nathyn. “Sure, buddy. What do you need?”

“Could you come to your office, please?”

“On my way.”

Cole arrived at the hatch leading to his office just as one of Srexx’s bots arrived with a box. Cole eyed the box with curiosity and led the bot through Akyra’s office to his.

“Okay, Srexx…what do you have?”

“Since becoming aware of the jump gate network, I have examined several methods of improving it. My preliminary scans gave me sufficient information to hypothesize it might be possible to modify the jump gates to act more like Haven’s hyperdrive. I rejected this idea, however, because every society’s economy we have encountered seems built upon the framework that the jump gates are a point-to-point infrastructure, instead of point-t0-multipoint. Introducing such a modification, while an improvement for ships traveling, would create more problems from an economic standpoint.”

The bot placed the box on Cole’s desk and opened it. The bot then withdrew a device that looked very much like an old-style computer terminal.

“This, Cole, is my solution to helping you improve Human society. It is a quantum communications node. The jump gates already serve as a communications relay system. By adding a quantum comms node to each jump gate, we will make it possible for messages to traverse vast distances in miniscule amounts of time. I designed this particular unit to serve as a testing platform. Haven already possesses the equivalent to a quantum comms node, as does anyone with one of my implants. This device will permit a person or persons we designate to communicate with any quantum-comms-enabled location at will.”

Cole stared at the device, blinking.

“Wow, buddy. This is…this is nice. We need to test it.”

“Yes, Cole. I thought you might want to leave this unit with Painter and Sev, perhaps in their offices, when we depart for Alpha Centauri. We can then test it by calling them at various points in our journey.”

Cole nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think we’re going straight to Alpha Centauri.”

“Where are we going, then?”

“Aurelius.”

Silence.

“You believe interrogating Lindrick will provide sufficient information to exonerate the Thyrrays.”

“There’s no ‘belief’ about it,” Cole countered. “He already has. Garrett decided to use the ‘truth gas’ plan Harlon mentioned. Lindrick has been volunteering information right and left—not to mention cussing himself for doing so—and we’ve been recording it. He’s given us a number of places to look for information to corroborate his answers, even if those places are in the Aurelian data-net. So, yeah…we’re going to Aurelius. I haven’t told Sasha, yet, though. I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”

“Of course, Cole. Will you be taking Nathyn Thyrray with you?”

Cole snorted. “Not hardly. I’m going to Aurelius to get the warrants and bounties on Sasha and her family removed. It makes no sense to offer up Nathyn for the bounty I would then be demanding they vacate. Besides, serving up Nathyn for a bounty would probably cost me my first officer anyway. Not really something I want to happen. This comms node is good work, though. Thank you, Srexx.”

“You’re welcome, Cole.”

The bot spun and left Cole’s office. Cole followed it as far as Akyra’s office.

“So, anything happen I need to know while I was gone?” Cole asked.

Akyra shook her head. “Nope. All quiet. The system authorities approved the salvage claim on the wreckage, and I forwarded the approval to Painter. She’s covered up in interviews right now, so I’m helping her sort out the salvage before someone jumps our claim.”

“You really think we need to worry about that?” Cole asked.

Akyra’s eyes drifted over her surroundings for a few moments before she shook her head. “No. Probably not. No one around Tristan’s Gate would be crazy enough to try stealing from you.” She blushed and looked away.

“What?” Cole asked. “There was a thought, there.”

“Oh…uhm…well…I still kinda keep an ear to the ground in the shadier parts of life.”

Cole nodded as he processed that. “So, you’re saying you still keep up with criminal underworld?”

“Yes. I don’t do anything, just visit bars on the L decks and listen to people talk. You have those people completely cowed, you know. Yesterday, I was getting a drink after we docked from the battle. There was a guy from out-system, not really sure from where, but he kept trying to work up a crew to raid the wreckage…specifically because our salvage claim application was already public. Whoever this guy was, he wanted to steal from us.”

Cole grinned. “Oh? What happened?”

“Eight guys kicked his ass and threw him out. The last thing I head them say to him was, ‘We don’t mess with the Lone Marine around here, jackass. Go commit suicide somewhere else.’ I almost snorted my beer when I heard that.”

“It’s nice to have a reputation, I guess,” Cole replied with a slight shrug. “You doing well, otherwise?”

“Yes, sir! It was a little rough right after I signed on. That’s why Yeleth assigned me as your yeoman, after all, but things have evened out. Turns out, I enjoy the work more than I expected I would. Who would’ve thought I had a talent for executive-assistant-type stuff?”

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I appreciate all your effort and time.”

“You’re very welcome, sir. I appreciate you not leaving me in Iota Ceti. Don’t forget you have a meeting with Juliana Painter and Sev Vance aboard the station. You have forty-five minutes, but I didn’t want you to get side-tracked.”

Cole and Sev looked up from their holographic cards and the holographic pile of match-sticks in the center of the table when Painter entered the conference room. She was thirty minutes late.

“Don’t say it,” Painter almost growled as she almost collapsed into a seat. “The interviews are going well, and I was wrapped up in starting the next round. I’m here as soon as I could be.”

Cole and Sev each looked to one another, and Sev made a miniscule movement Cole took for a gesture that he should handle it. Cole smiled, waving the matter away.

“Don’t worry about it, Painter. You’re overworked; everyone is to a degree. If you ever think you’re unappreciated or underpaid, tell me at once, and I’ll complain to the management.”

Painter looked at Cole, her expression unreadable. “You are the management, Cole.”

“So, I can’t kick the can up the chain?”

“Nope. The credit chit stops at you.”

“I guess I need to re-think my business model. I’m not sure it’s working out as I intended.” Cole added an absurd expression that had no connection at all to the words he said.

Painter smiled, which led to a chuckle.

“Feel better?” Cole asked.

“Actually, yes.”

Cole nodded once. “Good. Anything else I can do?”

“Thanks, but I’ll manage. So, who’s winning?”

“Who do you think?” Sev asked. “He’s a mean bluff, and he has no tells that I’ve been able to find.”

Cole shrugged. “You could always assume I’m bluffing every time.”

Sev scoffed, and Painter laughed.

“Yeah, that would work so well,” Sev replied. “At least you talked me out of playing for real credits.”

Cole smiled. “You’re welcome. So, any updates on the refugee situation?”

“The refugees already here are growing restless,” Sev said. “There aren’t enough jobs for the number of people the system has now, and ships are still arriving almost daily with more refugees aboard them.”

“I’ve spoken with a few of the freighter captains,” Painter said, “and they paint a pretty scary picture of what’s going on inside the Commonwealth. The Provisional Parliament is suppressing dissenters and imprisoning opponents in the systems they completely control. They don’t seem to be blockading the jump gates anymore, but they have taken up searching ships leaving planets and stations, trying to stem the tide of people fleeing their territory. They’ve had to institute state-owned freighters to transport trade goods, because independent freighters aren’t staying. They’re leaving the Commonwealth in droves and not coming back…all the while taking as many people as they can. There are even some brave souls going back for more refugees. I don’t know how they’re keeping from getting imprisoned and their ship impounded, myself.”

Cole nodded, shifting his attention to Sev. “How’s the system leadership? What’s their stance in all this?”

Sev grimaced. “They’re caught in the middle, Cole. They really are. On the one side, they abhor what these people are facing back home, and they don’t blame them at all for wanting to go somewhere—anywhere—else. On the other side, though, there are something like seventeen thousand Commonwealth refugees in the system, and the system’s economy and institutions were stable before the refugees’ arrival. There wasn’t a lot of growth, but what growth there was, it was stable, organic growth. The sudden influx of seventeen thousand people in months is straining every aspect of the system. The leadership doesn’t want to turn anyone away, but they don’t know how they can accept many more people before things start collapsing.”

“Well then…I think they’ll be receptive to my plan. What’s the status on the construction company? How close are they to starting the assembly of the temporary station in Beta Magellan?”

“That’s going fairly well. We’re nearing completion on staging the materials, and the company is eager for us to canvass the refugees for anyone with construction and zero-g experience. The job’s foreman says we should have the habitation modules ready for occupancy inside of six months if we start soon, with the industrial yards not too far behind that. Say…maybe eight months till we can start working toward permanent infrastructure for the system. These are all estimates, though. It could go better, or it could go worse. We won’t know until it happens.”

“That sounds like things are proceeding well. Can one or both of you set up an appointment for us to meet with the system leadership? I’d like their permission and support in meeting with the refugees.”

Sev and Painter nodded, Sev saying, “We’ll keep Akyra in the loop as things develop.”

“Good,” Cole said. “Is there anything else?

Sev and Painter looked to each other, both finally shaking their heads.

“No,” Painter said. “I don’t think so.”

“Sounds good. Find me if you need me.” Cole pushed back from the table and stood, leaving the conference room.

O’Shaughnessy’s, The Gate

25 April 3000, 18:22 GST

The sounds of a busy and populated common room settled around Cole’s shoulders as he entered O’Shaughnessy’s. He waved at the bartender as he passed, but Cole didn’t stop at the bar. It was packed, anyway. Threading his way through the tables filled with people and servers on the move, Cole approached his destination: one of the semi-private booths in the darkened back of the common room. Garrett waited for him.

Cole slid into the booth across the table from Garrett and nodded in greeting.

“From what I’m hearing, you’ve had a busy time of it,” Garret said, “or at least, Painter has.”

Cole grinned. “She has indeed. She isn’t ready to quit on me yet, though. At least, I don’t think so.”

Garrett chuckled. “No. She’s not even entertaining the thought.”

“Oh? How do you know?”

“She has received a number of offers from various mercantile concerns. The offers always praise her business acumen, but the underlying message is they want her to bring whatever she can of your secrets with her. The pay they’re offering—both in signing bonuses and salary—is impressive.”

Cole blinked. “Do I want to know how you came into that information?”

Garrett shook his head. “No. Probably not. Intelligence work is a lot like making laws and sausages. Everyone wants it done, but no one wants the full details.”

“Fair enough. How goes everything?”

“Our guest is being very cooperative. Harlon was right. He’s volunteering stuff I would’ve never thought to ask. And yes…I’ve been recording it all. What are you going to do with all this?”

“We’re not heading straight to Alpha Centauri when we leave. I’m taking the ship to Aurelius, and I’m not leaving until those warrants and bounties on the Thyrrays are quashed. I promised Sasha I’d make them go away when we first met. Lindrick’s testimony and whatever we dig up when we arrive in Aurelius will give me the leverage I need.”

Garrett nodded, sipping his beer. “Speaking of the Commonwealth…I’m picking up whispers that the Rigellian Alliance and the Sirius Imperium might enter the fray. The partisans already engaged in the conflict have been trying to use it as a cover to settle old scores, and both the Rigellians and the Imperium have lost shipping over the past few weeks. I don’t have concrete information on who pulled those triggers, but this mess is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“All that does is spread the misery around,” Cole replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head as he sighed. “The average citizen doesn’t want this war. They prove that by trying to flee wherever and whenever they can.”

“I know,” Garrett agreed. “Tristan’s Gate is almost to the breaking point. If something doesn’t change soon, things will have the potential to get nasty. There are already anti-refugee groups starting to pop up. It won’t be long before they start campaigning.”

The conversation flagged as Cole gave his drink order to their server.

Garrett watched the server leave, waiting for the individual to pass out of earshot.

“I want you with us when we go to Alpha Centauri,” Cole said. “Will that pose a problem for your operations?”

Garrett shook his head. “Most of my people use message drops. I just make the digital rounds and collect whatever’s waiting. The ones who normally don’t can start. Oh…Lindrick gave me a piece you’ll want to know; he mentioned it in our last interview, right before I came here.”

“What?”

“He told me the people who hired him to massacre Beta Magellan were Solars.”

Cole’s eyes bulged. “Did he know who they were? What made him so certain?”

“He said the ship they arrived in to meet with him broadcast a Solar Republic transponder…and that he verified it as legitimate. Whoever they were, they weren’t professional spies.”

Cole nodded. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re going to Alpha Centauri soon. You’ll be much better positioned to follow up on that.”

“You can bet the ship on that,” Garrett agreed.

The rest of the conversation drifted to other topics, and soon, Cole and Garrett returned to the ship, laughing over old times when Garrett had been teaching Cole how to survive as Jax Theedlow.

The Novels of Robert M. Kerns

Histories of Drakmoor

Awakening (3 April 2018)

Into Vushaar (12 February 2019)

The Golden Flame (Forthcoming)

Home Sweet Home (Forthcoming)

The Fall of Skullkeep (Forthcoming)

Cole & Srexxilan

It Ain’t Over… (2 July 2019)

…Till It’s Over! (Forthcoming)

Haven Ascendant (Forthcoming)

The Fires of Aurelius (Forthcoming)

Solar Eclipsed (Forthcoming)