Ronin (The Pike Chronicles Book 3) (2 page)

“Plot coordinates to jump just behind the stern of the Kemmar warship,” said Colonel Bast, analyzing several cascading information feeds through his brain chip. When the Chaanisar first revolted against the Juttari they had refrained from using their brain chips for fear of some overlooked back door. Now, convinced that no such threat existed, they returned to relying on the speed and efficiency of the implants.

“Coordinates plotted,” said the helmsman, not verbally, but sending the message through his own chip.

“Refrain from using your chip for communication,” Bast chastised through his own chip.

“I am sorry, Sir. It will not happen again.”

Bast didn’t want any unnecessary tension with the Space Force or Reiver passengers. Since those without implants could easily grow suspicious about the unheard conversations. They must learn to use vocal communication, even when only Chaanisar were present. That way mistakes made out of habit could be avoided.

Interacting with the ship’s systems was another matter, however. The ship was designed to take advantage of the Chaanisar brain chips, and everything functioned much more efficiently when the neural links were in place.

“Load all missile tubes and prepare to fire,” ordered Bast.

“Missiles loaded,” said the Chaanisar tactical officer.

An image of the Kemmar warship and its location flashed in Bast’s mind, along with the present location of his own Heavy Cruiser. They orbited on the opposite side of the planet from the enemy. He planned to use the jump system to surprise their prey and inflict as much damage as possible.

“Jump,” said Bast.

The ship folded the space between the two locations, effectively vanishing from their current position, and reappearing behind the enemy vessel. Explosions reverberated all over the ship, their jarring concussions surprising everyone on board. The floor tilted and quaked under Bast’s feet making him struggle to keep his balance. Had the Kemmar fired on them? Impossible. Even if they anticipated their jump they couldn’t possibly know where they would land. Yet they were taking damage. Somehow, something was hitting them.

“Report,” yelled Bast, as a flurry of information flashed through his mind.

“Mines, Sir,” said the tactician. “The Kemmar have deployed mines around their ship.”

They anticipated the jump, thought Bast. They were adapting. A view of the space surrounding them appeared. He saw the warship and its minefield. They were everywhere. The mines ignored the Kemmar warship. That could only mean they were intelligent, harmless to Kemmar vessels, yet deadly to the enemy. This changed things. He had planned to use the jump system to keep the enemy guessing. Now he would have to hold position and trade blows. Landing behind the vessel still gave him a positional advantage. It would have to be enough.

“Fire missiles,” ordered Bast.

Underneath the Chaanisar ship small hatches swung open and focused explosions thrust a volley of missiles forward, sending them streaking ahead toward the enemy vessel.

The mines had tipped off the Kemmar to the Chaanisar arrival. The warship launched decoy drones in defense against the missiles. Point defense fire joined in successfully destroying any missiles not fooled by the drones.

“Load all missile tubes and fire again,” said Bast. “Continue firing missiles until further notice.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Fire energy weapons. Target enemy’s point defense batteries. Set rail guns to point defense mode.”

Bast anticipated a counterattack, and fully expected to spot missiles hurtling toward him at any moment. But they didn’t come. Instead, the ship belched out an endless cluster of fighters. A swarm of tiny ships streaked toward the Chaanisar cruiser, their thrusters blazing white hot in the dark sky. As they entered the Chaanisar perimeter the point defense batteries opened up. Bast watched the scene unfold through a tactical display in his mind. Fighter after fighter disappeared from the display as the guns hit their mark, swiveling around and firing with remarkable speed and precision. Somehow the fighters kept coming, a continuous stream pouring out of the Kemmar ship.

Bast studied the tiny vessels, zooming in for a close-up. The image was accompanied by a list of the fighter’s specifications. They were small for fighters. Too small. He focused on the data, scrolling through the information he was receiving, realization dawning on him. There were no life signs. No pilots. The fighters were drones. That was how it was possible to deploy so many. They were trying to employ swarm tactics. Attempting to overwhelm the Chaanisar defenses through sheer numbers. First the mines and now the swarm. He was impressed. The Kemmar truly were a worthy foe.

“Retarget energy weapons. Focus on the fighters. Fire at will,” ordered Bast. He knew the added defensive fire wouldn’t be enough. There were simply too many.

The swarm began to envelop the cruiser, creating a glowing halo around the ship as the defensive ordinance destroyed the craft in the hundreds. Bast knew that the drones would wrap around them like a fiery blanket. They would find the inevitable cracks in the defensive field. They would exploit those cracks, opening wider gaps, until the ship’s defenses were irreparably compromised.

The bridge seemed to speed up. The crew moved faster, spurred by the urgency of the situation. He glanced to the open levels surrounding the bridge above him. His crew was composed. It wasn’t that he expected to see anyone panicking. Chaanisar didn’t panic. The Juttari ensured this when they augmented them. Not only did they fit them with implants that made them stronger and faster, they also inserted medical devices that managed the way their bodies reacted to different stimuli.

He noted his own body’s response to the present situation. His adrenal gland had kicked into action, pumping hormones into his system. Adrenaline increased his heart rate and blood pressure, while cortisol elevated the sugars in his bloodstream. He could feel all of it. All natural, primal responses to stressful, dangerous situations. His Juttari medical implants moved quickly to counter nature. Medication was released into his bloodstream, negating his body’s hormonal response. It worked to calm his mind and body, and regulate his heart rate and blood pressure. In short order, his breathing slowed, and he achieved a calm, Zen-like state. It allowed him to think clearly, his mind free of distracting, potentially paralyzing emotions.

“Prepare to jump to previous coordinates on the other side of this planet,” said Bast. “Jump when ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the helmsman.

The jump system was engaged, creating a jump field around the Chaanisar ship and the drones swarming it. The ship jumped, folding space and reappearing at its previous location. The drone swarm appeared in kind and resumed its attack.

“Take us away from the planet. Thrusters at full power.”

The cruiser’s engines fired and the Chaanisar ship vaulted forward, temporarily breaking free of the swarm. The drones gave pursuit. They were small and nimble and quickly caught the massive vessel. The cruiser’s guns kept firing, but the swarm still possessed a massive numerical advantage. It gained on the cruiser and began to envelop it once more. The batteries couldn’t keep up and the cruiser began taking damage again. The damage would increase incrementally until the cruiser was crippled, then destroyed.

“Activate the FTL drive,” said Bast.

The cruiser surged forward, quickly surpassing the speed of light. The drone swarm was left behind. With no FTL capabilities of their own, the fighters had no hope of keeping up with the more capable vessel.

That was all Bast needed. “Disengage FTL drive, and jump back to previous coordinates behind the Kemmar vessel,” commanded Bast.

The ship dropped out of light speed and slowed to make its jump. It folded space again and reappeared behind the Kemmar. This time the fighter drones didn’t come along for the ride. They remained on the other side of the planet, no longer a threat.

“Fire all weapons,” said Bast. “Set rail guns to offensive mode.”

The cruiser attacked the alien ship with a ferocity the Kemmar couldn’t match. The Chaanisar unleashed a combination of gun batteries, energy weapons and missiles.

“Target their batteries,” said Bast.

The Chaanisar weapons systematically attacked the Kemmar gun batteries, one by one. The Kemmar ship simply couldn’t defend itself against such a powerful onslaught.

The Kemmar tried to fight back. They traded blows with the Chaanisar, lighting up the void with a crisscross of red and blue energy fire. The Kemmar defenses were quickly overwhelmed, however. One by one the Kemmar batteries were methodically destroyed. The enemy fought as long as it could, but without the fighters they were woefully mismatched.

A final wave of Chaanisar missiles breached what was left of the Kemmar defenses and found their reactor. A massive concussive wave followed, tearing the enemy warship apart, until it was nothing more than a field of scrap metal.

“Contact the landing party,” said Bast. “Let them know it’s safe to return.”

“Why do the Diakans help us, father?” said Jon, pushing aside a hanging branch, as they hiked through the mountain forest. They moved furtively, his father leading the way, several men following behind Jon. Above them the tall pines swayed and danced with the mountain winds.

“The Diakans are no different than the Juttari, son. Never forget that,” said Collin Pike, Jon’s father, without breaking stride. “They don’t give a damn about us, or our planet.”

“But they’re our allies. They’re giving us weapons so we can fight back. Some say their starships have entered the Sol System and are fighting the Juttari in space. Why would they do all that if they didn’t want to help us?”

His father frowned. He shook his head and looked back at Jon with his one good eye. “You’re as strong as a man, but you still think like a child. The Diakans are using us. And we’re using them. That’s all there is to it. By pushing the Juttari out of this system they expand their empire. It helps us gain some freedom, so we go along with it. It sure as hell is better than living under the Juttari boot. But don’t fool yourself. The Diakans are not our friends.”

Jon walked quietly through the brush, thinking about his father’s words. He dropped his hand, letting it rest on the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh. A Diakan energy weapon. He remembered how his grandfather’s eyes lit up when the first shipment of these weapons arrived. He had stared at them with wonder and declared it the dawn of a new age. Of course in his day the only weapons accessible were Juttari, weapons stolen from the government. Now, with Diakan backing, there was a steady supply of arms finding their way into the resistance.

“The Diakan weapons have made us more successful,” said Jon, gripping the weapon tighter. Its cold metal reassuring him. “More people join us each day. The population wants to fight, where once they only cowered in fear. This is the result of Diakan help. I am thankful for that help,” said Jon.

His father’s laughter surprised him. “Be thankful all you want, son. Just be smart at the same time. We may live hard, but we live free. There is no substitute for freedom. Never forget that.”

“Do the Diakans not help us fight for our freedom?”

“What do you think will happen when we push the Juttari off our planet? Do you think the Diakans will just leave us to our freedom?”

“If they leave the Juttari will return.”

“Now you’re using your head, son. The Diakans will not leave. They’ll stay, and we’ll want them to.” His father stopped and turned to face Jon. “Imagine a baby left alone in these woods,” he said, waving his arms at the thick forest surrounding them. “How long would it stay alive?”

“Not very long,” said Jon.

“We are that baby. We need protection so that we can grow up and protect ourselves. The question is, will the Diakans allow us to grow up?”

“Why wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t it be better for them?”

“Perhaps. If we remained allies. The Diakans are smart. They will allow us to gain power up to a point. If we gain too much, we become a threat. Do you think they will allow that to happen?”

“No,” said Jon.

His father slapped his back. “That’s right. Nobody tolerates threats. Not the Juttari, not the Diakans, not us. Enough talking now. We’re getting close to the rendezvous point. Remember, when we get there you watch and listen. Don’t say anything. Understood?”

“Yes, father.”

His father turned away and resumed his path through the brush, the plants and low hanging branches no match for his powerful frame. Jon heard coyotes yelping in the distance. He enjoyed listening to their banter, especially their howls. The sound comforted him. Coyotes were survivors, just like his family.

They hiked for a few more kilometers through the rugged, wooded terrain. The brush was thick but they remained in single file, walking in each other’s footsteps, careful not to leave too much evidence of their passage. The forest came alive around them. Jon listened to the birds singing overhead, and filled his lungs with the cold, clean mountain air.

There were times when he wondered if these woods were not the last truly free place left on Earth. Although there had been some feeble attempts by the government at rooting the resistance out, in the end they were nothing more than half-hearted failures. The resistance could defend these mountains for years if needed. The Governor didn’t have the guts to commit to that type of campaign. He was happy enough preying on the towns, where people lived in fear. That way he could meet his quota of children for the Chaanisar, without too much of a headache. But all that was changing. Where the resistance was once nothing more than a thorn in the Governor’s backside, now it was turning into a credible adversary. They were becoming an army, armed with powerful Diakan weapons. The Governor wouldn’t be able to ignore them for much longer. Especially not after their next mission. Jon breathed in another lungful of free mountain air. He would see the end of the Juttari occupation. Of that he was certain. What had been just a dream for his grandfather would become reality in Jon’s lifetime.

His father slowed, holding up a fist as he stopped. Up ahead Jon could make out a small clearing. He dropped into a crouch as he shouldered his weapon. The men behind him silently did the same. Whoever was in that clearing wouldn’t know they were there. In these woods they were ghosts. Jon’s father approached quietly, scanning the area. Jon’s heart beat faster, harder. He worried for a moment that it might be making too much noise. He watched his father intently, and trained his weapon on the clearing. His hand remained steady. If anyone was waiting in ambush for them, they would pay a heavy price for their foolishness. He would make sure that nobody left these woods alive.

His father soon signaled that it was safe to come out, and headed for the clearing. Jon followed him in, his weapon still shouldered and ready. Two aliens stood in the middle of the open area, with a small spaceship resting just behind them. Jon assumed they were Diakans. He had never seen a Diakan before. The sight fascinated him. They were odd looking creatures, a bizarre cross between a lizard and a fish. Green skin and scales covered disproportionately long arms and legs. Both wore military uniforms and were armed. Collin Pike approached. Jon followed, staying a couple steps behind, still gripping his weapon, but pointing the muzzle at the ground, rather than the Diakans.

One of the aliens locked eyes with Jon. He met the alien’s gaze without looking away. They didn’t scare him, although he knew they should. These creatures ruled large swathes of the galaxy. What was he to them? As insignificant as an ant under his feet. Still, he didn’t care. Whether they were friend or foe, he would not look away. They didn’t rule in these woods. The resistance did. The Diakan continued to stare, its face expressionless. Jon stared back, unable to decide whether it was curiosity, or a challenge. He knew he didn’t like it. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason, but he felt an arrogance emanating from the alien.

“The weapons are in the ship,” said Jon’s father, seizing Jon’s attention. During the staring contest his father had discussed matters with the other Diakan. Jon had been told to listen and pay attention, but he got caught up in his silent pissing match and missed what had been said. Did his father know he had been distracted? He stood for a moment, searching his father’s face for a clue. “Get moving,” his father snapped, jolting Jon into action.

He rushed over to the humming craft with the rest of the men. The alien’s eyes followed, as if continuing to quietly issue a challenge. Jon hated giving it the satisfaction of looking away, but he had work to do. He couldn’t have his father calling him a child again. As they approached the vessel its side slid open revealing several crates made of some type of polymer. He had seen the crates before, in previous weapon shipments. The men paired up, and pulled the crates out of the craft. Jon gripped his end of a crate and yanked it out of the ship. It was heavy, but nothing Jon couldn’t handle. Even at fourteen years, he already towered over most men. He didn’t yet have the thickness of frame his father had, but he was still strong. He had benefited from the endurance of youth. Growing up in the mountains had made him healthy and hardy.

When the crates had all been unloaded Jon’s father thanked the Diakans and walked out of the clearing, back the way they came. Jon and the rest followed in pairs, weighed down by the crates. The Diakans watched as they left. Jon looked back to find the Diakan’s eyes still on him. The eyes were expressionless, yet he still felt the unspoken provocation.

Head games
, he thought.
The Diakans are playing head games with me
. He chuckled at the thought. Why would a Diakan waste his time with a human boy? His father was right, he did think like a child. The Diakan had said nothing to him, yet he let it get under his skin. He needed to control his emotions, or he would get people killed.