Counterweight (32 page)

Rick easily resisted the urge to look over at the suited
Dactari. The Humans of 3428 learn in early childhood not to react overtly to
foreknowledge of an opponent’s actions. Pre-cognitive ability becomes useless
if you allow your reactions to pre-empt events. Looking at the Dactari in
reaction to his pending outburst could easily distract him, causing him to take
an unexpected tangent.

And Rick was looking forward to the approaching exchange of
words.

“Can we all stop this foolishness and get to the matter at
hand?” The suited Dactari demanded. “I’ve got Midgaard warriors sitting in the
shuttle bays of three ships and I’d like to arrange for their immediate
removal.”

“Oh, dear me,” Colm exclaimed mildly. He turned an inquiring
gaze to Krillna. “Haven’t you briefed your man, here?”

Krillna threw his hands and tail up in exasperation. “He
won’t listen to
me
– the damned pirate,” he complained. “All he does is
make demands. Why don’t
you
give it a shot?”

Colm leaned forward. “Right, see here, Mr. umm…”

“Khol,” he grunted, “Renma Khol.”

“Yes, well, Mr. Khol, Aliekna is bound by the articles of
the Yaetho’kae Convention.” He spread his hands. “So you see the snag, of
course?”

“I certainly don’t,” Khol retorted.

“Well, as every officer on both sides knows,” Colm
continued, “Aliekna can bring a halt to all ship-to-ship activities while she
arbitrates but she has no ability to restrict the activities of tactical
personnel, which means they are immune from the provisions of Article 2.”

“What?”

“It means,” Krillna explained with indecent relish, “those
Midgaard are not sitting quietly in your hangar bays. They’re swarming around
your three ships, shooting your pirate crew and lopping off arms and heads with
their blades.”

“WHAT!” He shot up out of his seat.

“Now, now, dear fellow,” Colm soothed. "Not to worry –
it’s all very correct and legal…”

“You have to send me back, right now!”

“By now,” Freya advised, “our forces have taken
your
cruiser. The first prizemasters were sent aboard with double crews. All three
of your cruisers will be taking
our
orders when hostilities resume.”

Khol dropped into his seat, mouth hanging open.

“Right!” Colm exclaimed cheerily. “It seems we’ve managed to
sort that out. There’s just the matter of resumption to clarify.” He looked to Freya
and Rick. “I assume you both vote for an end to arbitration and a return to the
festivities?”

“We do,” Freya replied.

“Very good.” He turned to Krillna. “Not a lot of choices for
your fellow, I’m afraid.”

“The hells there isn’t,” Khol exclaimed. “
I
don’t
agree to a resumption of hostilities.”

Krillna shook his head. “The convention only applies to
Republic and Alliance forces. You’re neither. And furthermore, this isn’t a
scheduled planet. It’s not listed in the convention’s numerous addenda.”

“You’re just going to let us fight an entire Alliance
carrier group with four corvettes?”

“We can offer refugee status,” Krillna offered. “We can take
your crews aboard and find someplace safe to drop you off.”

“I won’t give up my ships!”

Freya drew her lips back. “Oh, I think you will – one way or
another. It’s just a question of whether you and your crews survive the
process.”

It was galling for Khol. He was probably a simple raider
captain drawn to the small fleet by the promise of some quick company cash. Just
a few days escorting a mercenary troopship and he’d be able to keep his crew
from mutiny for another month or so.

The arrival of the carrier group had wiped out the command
ship, putting the remaining seven ships under his command. Now he’d lost three
to a surprise attack and boarding action and he was loosing the other four at a
god-sdamned boardroom table.

His fists were clenched, knuckles white. “I request refugee
status.”

Krillna leaned forward, turning to the right to get a better
look at Khol’s face. “For your crews as well, I presume?”

There was a long pause – long enough to be indelicate.

“Yes.”

Counterweight station

“… a
nd
if you think otherwise…” Graadt trailed off, releasing his grip on his sidearm.
He looked around the elevator room.

The Dactari in charge of the recently arrived troops had
been decidedly reluctant to send a storming party down on the elevator. It was
to be expected from mercenaries. At heart, they were businessmen, not warriors.
They had no interest in fighting their way out of a confined elevator pod
against determined resistance. The cost:benefit ratio didn’t favor such an
endeavor.

Be that as it may, disappearing into thin air was just rude.

Kaans grunted in surprise. “You guys saw that too, right?”

“We know the
Firm Resolve
is here,” Graadt thought
out loud, “which is why those mercenaries stopped coming aboard the station.”

“Those idiots would never last, not against Midgaard,” Nid
declared confidently. “I’d bet they ditched.”

“All of ‘em?” Kaans frowned at Nid. “Even the ships the
Midgaard haven’t put boarding parties on?”

“You heard them squawking before everything went dead.”
Graadt tapped his earpiece. “Those Mark III’s came out of nowhere and they
probably already have the next pitch laid in. Five heartbeats after this
arbitration ends, they’ll be boarding three more ships. No chance they can run
before then. It’ll take at least fifteen beats to spool up their mains.”

“That means they’ll be boarding this station very soon,” Nid
warned.

Graadt nodded over at the cargo doors.

Located in the elevator room, the cargo doors allowed easier
loading for cargoes of ore. Without them, bulk goods would have to be dragged
through the station to one of the boarding wings. The mercenaries had been
coming in through those cargo doors.

They approached door seventeen. Nid pressed the controls to
open the heavy portal and, through a blue haze, they could see the mercenary
fleet. The three heavy cruisers had the Alliance Mark III Hussars pressed up against
them while the four corvettes were, for the moment, unmolested.

And almost certainly empty.

“The closest one,” Graadt decided.

“What about the target?” Nid grabbed Graadt’s shoulder.

“Another time.” Graadt sighed. “Another place.”

“But we could sabotage the elevator, cut the tether…”

“No,” Graadt answered firmly. “I won’t starve millions to
slow down one enemy.” He looked his friend in the eye.

Nid looked away. “You’re right,” he admitted. “That was
unworthy.”

“Well then,” Kaans said matter of factly, “the closest one.
I can probably give you a near overload on the pitch drives – take me a few
heartbeats. Might buy the time we need to spool up the mains.”

Graadt smiled. “
Might
, huh? Well, if you get it
wrong, it will at least be spectacular!”

“Better than getting hit by an ore carrier.” Kaans activated
his helmet and lined up with the corvette. “Let’s cast the dice.”

The
Ormurin,
near the
counterwieght

 
“
C
ontrols
are responding,” the helmsman announced. “Pitching to secondary target in…”

“Belay!” Rick shouted, racing over from the comms station.
“Cancel that maneuver!”

Every eye was on him now but he simply pointed to the
tactical holo in the middle of the bridge. Their target suddenly lurched ahead,
streaking past the moon.

“Lay in a pursuit course…” Freya began but caught Rick’s
warning headshake. “Belay that as well,” she snapped.

The corvette shimmered out of existence.

“Whoever that was,” Rick explained, “they
goosed
their
pitch drive to get away from us, using the time to get their mains online. That
kind of lateral shear stress would have torn us in half.”

“Risky,” Freya muttered.

Rick took a calming breath. His vision had been horrifying.
It was hard to believe she was still standing there in front of him. “Deadly
for us, whether it worked for
them
or not.” He shuddered. “If it failed
and they really overloaded, the blast would have destroyed us both completely.”

He didn’t add that the pitch field from the
Ormurin
would have nudged the gamble from risk to certainty. The additional energy
would have completed the overload, killing everyone.

“Shall we pitch to the last corvette?”  The helmsman
looked back at Rick.

Rick looked to Freya. She smiled, tilting her head to the
helmsman.

Rick nodded. “No issues there. Pitch us over.”

He began to tumble backwards, catching a stanchion just in
time.

Another shock ran through the ship but far less jarring this
time, seeing as they were coming alongside a vessel that wasn’t firing on them.

“Team away,” the helmsman announced.

“Hail Orbital Control,” she ordered.

“Huh!” The comms officer dragged a channel to the main
display. “Somebody’s still at his post in there. There’s a channel pinging
us
.”

Freya activated the channel. “Orbital Control, this is the
Ormurin
requesting a docking port, over.”

“Orbital Control, welcome,
Ormurin
,” a voice
responded enthusiastically. “You can take cargo one. C’Al will be glad to to
have some reinforcements!”

A chuckle. “You’re his man in Orbital Control, I take it?”

“I am.” A pause. “I’m also the
only
man in Orbital
Control right now. A lot of folks are crammed into whatever ships we currently
have docked. The control room emptied right after you arrived and blew up that
troopship.”

Freya glanced over at Rick. “We saw no ships fleeing the
area.”

“That’s because I’ve locked them all down,” the voice
replied. “Didn’t think you’d want your battle space cluttered up with civilian
ships.”

“I’m starting to like this guy,” Freya said loud enough for
the orbital controller to hear. “Keep them locked down for now,” she told him.
“We’ll start by sweeping the station, so the fewer civilians in the way, the
better.”

“No problem.” The controller hesitated. “Is it true you’re
going to take over here?”

“It’s not that simple,” Freya answered. There was a very
good chance this young man was relaying the conversation to the rebels below,
so now was a good time to start clarifying the situation.

“We don’t
rule
planets,” she continued. “We operate
under the traditional Oaxian model. You have to rule
yourselves
. You
elect your own governments, operate your own justice system and collect your
own taxes. In return for the percentage that would otherwise go to the
Republic, we guard your world against any outside influence.”  

“So, if the Republic sends a fleet to punish us?”

Freya grinned at that. It almost sounded as though he was
reading from a list of prepared questions. The resistance was almost certainly
listening. “Then we take from them whatever ships we like and destroy the
rest.”

She walked into the central holo projection and selected one
of her original ships. “Orbital Control, please calculate the closest docking
port for the
Chimera
and vector her in as well.”

The
Chimera
carried the majority of the small fleet’s
shock troops.

It was time to get to work.

Changing
the Guard

Tsekoh, Capital of Chaco Benthic

“
E
verybody
stay calm,” Cal yelled, his hands held up, palms facing the assembled
insurgents. He stood on the arrivals platform with his back to the elevator
carrousel.

A light breeze flowed past him, growing to a strong wind,
the precious oxygen invigorating his mind. That maintenance worker should be
reaching the baffles soon, if he hadn’t been cut in half by one of the
diverters.

Cal pushed the thought aside. It was important, certainly,
but he had to deal with the immediate problem. He was about to introduce
Midgaard warriors to a mob of agitated Republic citizens. Armed citizens.

“Weapons down, everybody!” It would only take one hothead
with an itchy trigger finger to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. He saw
one young Krorian with a magister’s weapon defiantly hoisted to his shoulder
and he pointed at him.

The crowd turned to see what he was indicating and the young
firebrand was shouted down. Someone even took his weapon, giving him a club in
exchange. They were barely coming to grips with the idea of their fearless
leader being an Alliance agent and now they were being asked to welcome their
most feared enemy as liberators.

To call it a tense situation might just be an
understatement.

The wind peaked and the elevator suddenly dropped into view,
slowing rapidly as it slid into the carrousel. The doors opened and a young
Tauhentan leapt out, waving frantically at the warriors inside. “Hurry, folks,”
he called out. “The next pod is heartbeats behind us.”

Close to sixty Midgaard flowed out onto the ramp, Freya and
Rick at their front.

“Make a hole!” the young Tauhentan yelled, pushing his way
to the control console and slapping a large red button. The carrousel began to
rotate, moving the empty pod out of the way even as a breeze announced the
approach of the next pod.

“Cal!”  Freya gave him a friendly smile. “You remember
Rick, of course.”

“I do, but he was a lot farther down on his luck the last time
he arrived on that elevator.” Cal exchanged Imperial handshakes with them.
“Though he has a talent for making his own luck. Did he tell you about the
casino where I first…”

“Hey!” Rick roared, stepping to Cal’s right and pointing
into the crowd. “HEY! Red coveralls – the RED COVERALLS! Don’t try it! You in
the green hat – take that weapon from him.”