A Choice of Treasons (55 page)

“Funny transition vectors, though,” Maggie said.

York nodded. “Ya.”

Rame’s voice was almost a ghostly whisper. “All spread out. Fanning out, heading back into Syndonese territory, transiting in all directions.”

The
feddies
were going back the way they’d come, not pursuing the defeated imperial fleet—good news for
Cinesstar
. For all intents and purposes that
feddie
fleet defined the front line in this sector—which meant
Cinesstar
was back in imperial territory—heavily disputed, but still imperial territory.

Jondee asked, “But why would they fan out like that?”

It was Gant who gave them the answer. “They’re looking for someone.”

“They’re looking for us,” York said, “probably think we haven’t gotten here yet and are fanning out to intercept us before we do.”

“I wonder if that’s why they were here in the first place,” Jondee speculated, mirroring York’s own thoughts. “Do you think they were looking for us all along, and they sent an entire armada to take a god damn sector headquarters just for us?”

For York it was all coming together now. “And they didn’t find us here, so they’re searching their back trail. But that’s a stroke of luck for us. We’re clear now.”

Rame asked, “Shall I instruct engineering to give us some power, sir?”

York shook his head. He still felt uneasy. “Belay that. Anda, what’s our present course? Are we going to yo-yo back into the system again?”

York’s caution killed their relief. “No, sir. We’re headed into the system, but we won’t be passing near enough to any planets to be deflected by more than a few degrees. We should be well out the other side in about four hours.”

“Then steady as she goes,” York said. “Once we pass through we’ll be headed roughly in the direction of Sarasan. We won’t have to do a lot of maneuvering to line up for transition. So we’ll just sit tight for the time being, make sure they didn’t leave anyone behind running silent and waiting for us. Then when we’re through the system we’ll drive like all hell straight for Sarasan.”

An hour passed, and an eerie silence descended over the Aagerbanne system, matched by the hush on the bridge of
Cinesstar
. “Sir,” Jondee whispered. “Her Majesty would like admittance to the bridge.”

“There’s no need to whisper, Mister Jondee,” York said, though by comparison his voice boomed. “And yes, admit the empress.”

Straegga, the d’Hart woman and Andow accompanied Cassandra, with all three of the civilians fumbling a bit in zero gravity, though the women had had the presence of mind to abandon their gowns in favor of less fashionable but far more practical coveralls. York had found it necessary to assign Straegga to the empress almost as a combat station. The ex-hunter-killer captain could read a console and keep the empress informed and off York’s back during any tense situations.

“Captain,” Cassandra said.

York turned toward her. “Your Majesty, if you don’t mind, the usual rules.”

She grinned. “Strap down, keep our mouths shut and our hands off the instruments.”

Gant was constantly mapping the system, isolating anything that might be a concealed enemy, then using every trick she and the rest of them knew to learn what they could.

“Why are we waiting?” the empress whispered over the command circuit. She too had succumbed to the hush that held them all.

“Because it won’t do us any harm. At worst we’ll waste a few hours coasting quietly through the system. At best, if there are any hidden dangers we won’t advertise our presence until we’re well out of reach.”

“Ever cautious, eh?”

“And still alive.”

Gant continued to sweat over her instruments, but suddenly Jondee started and jumped. “I’ve got a distress signal,” he said excitedly. He listened further . . . “H.M.S.
Dominant
, imperial registry. Heavy damage on all decks . . . life support failing on some . . . an open request for aid . . .”

“Miss Gant, what’s her range?”

“About eleven astronomical units, sir.”

York needed to hear this. “Put it on the bridge channel, Mister Jondee.”

A strange voice spoke in York’s implants. “. . . Mayday. Mayday. This is H.M.S.
Dominant
requesting emergency aid . . .”

Jondee asked, “Shall I answer, sir?”

“Negative,” York snapped.

The empress had leaned heavily to one side to see past the fire control console. “But Captain,” she said. “Those are our comrades. Surely there’s no danger in aiding them?”

“Which is more important, Your Majesty, getting you and the people with you back to safety, or taking a chance we might step into a trap? How important is your mission?”

She hesitated for a moment, and that told York that whatever she was up to, it was important enough for her to consider abandoning some of her subjects to certain death. “But there should be no reason we can’t do both. We should be able to do . . .”

York reached down to the controls on his console, intending to open a private channel between them, to remind her of her promise not to second guess him, but Gant suddenly shouted, “I’ve got a ship powering up. Way out on the edge of the system, a good thirty astronomical units out. Looks like something in the destroyer class, though I’ve got no recognition sequence on her. She’s not showing any colors.”

A situation summary appeared on one of York’s screens. The unidentified ship was obviously powering up for a short jump through transition. They all watched and waited for a few moments, then Gant called, “Transition flare.”

The unidentified ship quickly accelerated to better than a thousand lights, was in transition for thirty-four seconds, then, “Down-transition,” Gant said excitedly. “Big flare. They dumped most of their velocity, trying to match velocity with
Dominant
.
Dominant
isn’t responding, probably dead in space.”

“Well that solves our problem,” the empress said. “Help is on the way, and we can leave with a clear conscience.”

York said nothing, but wondered why the unidentified ship had lain quietly in wait. The voice of the com officer on
Dominant
echoed hauntingly in York’s ear. “This is H.M.S.
Dominant
to the unknown ship approaching us. Please identify. Please identify.”

The unidentified ship remained silent, refused to answer his request. He repeated it again and again as the ship approached and matched velocities with
Dominant
, and though he was obviously disciplined, a hint of fear began to show in his voice at the continued silence. The unidentified ship took up a position about a hundred kilometers off
Dominant’s
bow, then released a small shuttle.

“This is H.M.S.
Dominant
to the unknown ship approaching us. Do not approach further until you identify yourself. Please identify. If you don’t we’ll assume hostile intent and—”

A loud crash in the background interrupted the com officer. He grunted, demanded, “What the hell—” Another crash and an explosion interrupted him again.

Gant shouted, “That ship’s firing on
Dominant
.”

Cassandra asked, “What’s happening?”

“It’s a raider,” York said. “A pirate. They’re on a scavenging run. They’ll blow
Dominant’s
bridge, try to board her, kill anyone who’s alive, then strip her for ordinance, weapons, anything they can find.”

“Mayday! Mayday! Someone help us. Please—” Another crash in the background.

“Do something,” Cassandra pleaded. “I don’t care about anything else. We can’t leave them at the mercy of those animals.”

Andow and Cassandra both started shouting at York. The d’Hart woman stared at him silently through a gap in the instrument clusters. She was like his crew in that, leaning awkwardly to one side to get some faint glimpse of him between consoles and displays, but smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

“Mayday! Mayday! We’ve been—”

“Ah to hell with it,” he grumbled. “Mister Jondee. Cut that audio circuit, sound general quarters, watch condition red, and tell engineering to stand by for full combat status.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Jondee yelled a little too enthusiastically, and the alert klaxon started screaming at them.

York drifted into that odd, schizophrenic state of mind where he could isolate his fear in an almost separate personality, leaving the cold-blooded killer he needed free to do the work at hand. “Power up,” he ordered. “Gravity up. Shields up.” He settled into his seat under his own weight.

“Anda, where are the drones?”

Gant consulted one of her screens. “They’ve been drifting outward at about five hundred meters an hour. They’re presently out at seventeen kilometers.”

“Go fully active and take the drones out to one thousand kilometers. And compute a short transition hop to the
nearspace
of that raider—soonest.”

Maggie applied power to the drive and for the first time in days York felt the comforting pulse of
Cinesstar’s
main engines.

“Stand by forward main batteries.”

Straegga’s ex first officer was working with Stara at the fire control console. “Standing by, sir.”

The raider shuttle had already docked with
Dominant
. “Mister Stara,” York said. “We’re going to need a boarding party for that raider, and another one for the
Dominant
. You and Elkiss take thirty marines in
One
and board that raider after we loosen him up a bit. Tell Palevi and Simorka to take fifty marines in
Two
and board
Dominant
. Full combat armor all.”

York had done the same thing to Frank that Telyekev had done to him. He needed an experienced officer as CO for the marines, though Frank was no happier about it than York had been. Frank stood up from the fire control console, left Jakobee in charge and disappeared into the lift.

“Transition in ten seconds and counting, sir. That raider’s spotted us, started to run, leaving his shuttle behind.”

“Mister Jakobee. Put a shot across his bow.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Fire one!”

Cinesstar’s
hull drummed as one of the big turrets spit a shell into transition.

“Transition in four seconds, sir.”

The shot flared just in front of the raider. “Mister Jakobee. Watch your defensive stations for incoming.”

The raider would be fast, certainly faster than
Cinesstar
, but nowhere near as heavily armed. And
Cinesstar
had the jump on him, was already close to transition, while the raider would have to build speed.

“Three seconds . . .”

The raider ignored the warning shot. “Another shot across their bow, Mister Jakobee.”

“Two seconds. Drones in, sir.”

“Fire two, sir.”

“One . . .”

On one of his screens York watched the second shell explode in front of the fleeing raider. “Transition,” Jondee shouted, and York’s screens froze as they went blind.

“Ten seconds to down-transition.”

York growled, “Maggie, take evasive action. He’s going to try to hit us now. And dump all our velocity when we down-transit. Anda, drones out immediately on transition. Mister Jakobee, kill-target that raider as soon as you—”

The power plant red-lined as
Cinesstar’s
shields sucked power for a near miss. The raider had taken his shot.

“Two seconds, sir.”

The power plant red-lined again, the hull creaked and whined.

“Transition,” Gant screeched. “Drones out.”

“Incoming,” Jakobee said much more calmly. “Defensive stations responding. I’ve got acquisition, sir. Ranging at thirty-one million kilometers and closing rapidly.”

“All forward main batteries, Mister Jakobee . . . fire!”

Cinesstar’s
hull groaned and shook as all four forward turrets slammed shells into transition. An instant later one of the shells flashed by the raider harmlessly, but two more tore off a small piece of his bow, and the fourth punched a hole amidships. The raider went dead in space.

“All stop,” York ordered. “But stay alert, don’t trust that raider’s dead yet. Mister Jondee, see if you can raise him. Also see if you can raise
Dominant
.”

Cinesstar
swung past the raider, and it took close to a half hour to swing back and match velocities with the two stricken ships. Gant worked nervously, keeping an eye on the rest of the system for any activity, but their fears proved to be groundless.

The raider captain was nothing like York expected. He sat at his console ramrod straight, humorless, with an almost military demeanor, reminding York that such men were often deserters from one side or the other. “Captain,” he said. “I’m Captain Duart. I must protest this unwarranted attack on a legitimate salvage operation. I and my men—”