The Stars Came Back (52 page)

Ship AI: (OC) Best be ge
ttin’ t’th’ sickbay, lass. A lot o’ gentle hands be needed there. Doin’ summ’in ‘ll keep th’ noggin busy.

She nods, turns, and heads down the passageway, now nearly bursting with soldiers in tan camo and rifles from the two units they have picked up.

CUT TO

Tajemnica’s
bridge

Quiritis: Last one aboard.

Helton: Button up and head-

Lag: -Syd.

Helton: Sydney?

Lag: They won’t expect us to head there
with injured men and vehicles. It’s also Cobb’s ammo dump, and there is an available platoon there. Hit there for supplies, make sure the level breach is reported. Then we can pick up the rest of the offensive team and shuffle a few things to get a good mix of troops and hardware.

Helton nods in agreement and waves to Quiritis’ raised eyebrow to make it so. She nods understanding.

Quiritis: Buttoned up. Sydney it is.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY -
Edge of plains as it transitions to broken badlands

Tajemnica
angles up, glows a bit more, and pulls Gs for altitude, fading into the distance.

FADE TO BLACK

Authorization

FADE IN

INT - DAY - Large meeting room

L
T Kat and a dozen very serious-looking people are examining a large display showing the AARAS data. On the walls are large screens with images of the destroyed base, the bodies of Cooper and the compliance monitor, Quinn’s injured leg and other injured soldiers, pictures showing hit patterns, including the vast number of blast splashes atop
Tajemnica
and the text of intercepted messages. To one side there are screens showing the Raptus Regaliter Base Col and Lag. It is a hastily-called but extended meeting judging by the informal dress, scattered personal computers, water carafes and glasses, and various body postures of the participants. Kat is standing, presenting crisply.

Kat: In summary:
orbital drop munitions, terminal guidance munitions, multi-trajectory single-gun time-on-target firing solutions, statistically impossible hit rates, high-level electronic and human espionage in successful attempts to remotely re-enable electronics to make us look like
we
were in violation, intercepted communications that show the timing and target selection was
because
of a civilian ship’s presence. All prohibited actions which nearly destroyed the battalion. If not countered, or if used successfully against the other three nearby units in a follow up strike, it would have totally obliterated four battalions using disallowed tech.

Gupta (
An elderly Sikh): You make it appear obvious. But that data display looks almost too perfect to be real. How could your ship capture it?

Kat:
Tajemnica
is a decommissioned pre-blackout warship. Sort of a modified Orion class with only personal weapons aboard. Its history is sketchy, but it appears to have been used at one time as a deep survey vessel, and still has some high grade sensor and display software aboard.

Abbasi (
Middle aged Persian woman) : But it’s civilian? Why was it there?

Kat: Yes. Civilian owned, crewed, and managed. We contract with it for transport because it is armored, and the captain is willing to take risks others
won’t. It hauled food, water, fuel, basic ammo, sundries. The only 23rd troops aboard were truck drivers.

Base Col: When
my XO threatened to take command, or have Lag take over, the ship AI flatly refused. Damnedest thing. Excellent security and compliance protocols.

Reese (Old white guy)
: Hmmm. I wonder. Isn’t a member of the crew related to one of your mercenaries?

Lag: (
From the screen, nodding) Bipasha is the niece of First Sergeant Reel, but she works for Helton, the owner. Never been in uniform. Business manager. Lines up contracts and cargo, helps manage daily ops aboard. I was the only Plataean soldier aboard, with only personal sidearm. Sergeant Reel is still on medical.

Lerner (
Middle aged white woman): The Captain. Passport?

Kat
is a little surprised, not sure of the relevance of the question.

Kat:
Stateless. Bureaucratic
malum prohibitum
snafu on his home world cost him his citizenship. We gave him a provisional Plataean diplomatic status C2 to act as a courier a few months ago. He’s also been granted a Letter of Marque to use his starship as a conditional warship under certain circumstances, against certain targets. No citizenship, but legally he is technically a diplomat for civilian planetary law when couriering sensitive material, supported military contractor when in an authorized combat action, resident alien civilian for normal legal matters, civilian noncombatant for military law most of the time, and Universal Code of Material Justice - Stateless, in deep space. Unusual, but legally done.

Lerner does not look very convinced that his position is OK. The others alternately frown, shrug it off, or nod in general understanding.

Chin (Elderly Chinese man): What about the counter-fire? I’m still vague on that.

Lag: (
From the screen)
Tajemnica
has had anti-debris micro-lasers and other protective systems in the past. We have been using the onboard systems as training simulators. The pilot has a ground-attack background and apparently she made certain gunnery software and combat simulators were installed in case it ever got rearmed. The ship gave warning only when it realized there were inbound prohibited guided munitions, and tried to retarget them. After seeing they couldn’t all be safely retargeted, the gunnery software was accessed by the AI in self defense.
Tajemnica
went into the gun platforms via the access left wide open by the Kiv hacking. They left access open and obvious, apparently in order to be able to claim we were in violation first if the question arose.

VanDoren (
Youngish white guy): Why? Why would the Kiv take the risk?

Lag: Intel is ambiguous, but best guess is that they had boxed themselves in.
They have taken a couple of risky moves recently and lost each one. This was a quick way back into a winning position. If the strike was successful, a follow on with the other three in-range units would have made a big hole, and they’d be free to maneuver again. The recent loss of an air-defense battalion might have been the piece that made them this desperate.

The
members of the compliance monitor panel examine the diagram displayed before them, looking thoughtful.

Kat: I know you’d like weeks to consider all the data here, because this isn’t a simple “idiot brought a gun to a knife duel, saw it, got the video, snipe his ass” case, but time is of the essence. The units in violation are moving, or will be moving very soon, and will likely seek to get mixed up with others that were not
known to be involved in the near future.

Korte (
Middle aged East Indian man): Remedy?

Lag: We are now loading ammo and gravity systems onto
Tajemnica
. We’d like to pick up some grav tanks and support in the next ninety minutes, then hit the violators over the next twelve hours, and another day for mop-up.

Grewal: A civilian ship? With a diplomat as captain?

Lag: Long story, but yes. He’s also a sort of contract privateer, as Kat pointed out, with conditional legal status. Other units are tied up and not easily up-teched to be effective, and normal grav-tank command and transport hardware are compromised. Might be a problem. I believe you have met Major Kraut?

The assembled group makes knowing, sour faces, with a few nods.

Kat: Captain Strom will be acting in his private Letter of Marque capacity on a violation-enforcement contract, not as a courier-diplomat. After all, the base was targeted in part
because
he was there, so he has a personal interest.

Lag: With the grav-
tanks and support aboard, I’m confident that it will work out. They may be civilians, but they
do
accomplish deliveries rather well. Compliance bond and the Plataean performance bonus will pay for them to fly the mission.

The committee
members look around at each other, and one at a time they nod, except Lerner, who shrugs her shoulders in abstention.

Gupta: Granted. Thirty-six hours, starting now, to hit the offending units and the orbital platforms. Then
everyone is back to contract levels.

Lag and the Raptus Regaliter commander nod
understanding. The screens go blank, and LT Kat turns to go. Suddenly one of the screens lights up again, and a very angry and flustered-looking Councilor Darch appears.

Councilor Darch: I MUST protest! The Plataeans caused a violation and then attacked a Kiv battalion unprovoked from their ship! This outrage CANNOT be allowed to STAND!

Gupta: Oh,
really
? You are lucky we happened to be together. Do tell us all about it.

While he talks, he motions subtly with his hand to Kat, who is out of camera view to Darch, for her to leave.

FADE TO BLACK

Kraut

FADE IN

EXT - DAY - Ex
peditionary force parade ground

A large parade
ground and landing field. Mostly perfect grass, with numerous concrete landing pads and roads. Arrayed are twenty-six hulking, angular grav-tanks, four sets of six in desert camo paint, and two gaudy chromed tanks out in front. Each tank turret has a long heavy railgun barrel on one side, a long 120mm main gun center, a light railgun on the other side, and the stubby bump of a 15 megajoule laser on top. Raised up from the bustle in back is an array of missile launch tubes, a row of six quad-tube launchers, for display. Behind them are arranged another 20 grav APCs, small turrets sporting a set of lighter weapons, launchers, and antennas. In front of each is a three man crew, and in front of all of them all are about 120 men arranged in four platoons, with their leaders in front. In back are three large landing transports, each clearly large enough to carry the men and tanks with room to spare. They have many windows, and even more weapons and sensor bumps breaking up their graceful, smoothly rounded lines. They are multi-function transports, not assault landers. In front of the group on one of the immaculate white concrete pads stands Major Kraut, an arrogant-looking man in his 40s, wearing a gaudy uniform with lots of bangles and stripes, Hitler mustache, a malicious smile, and swagger stick, looking out over the arrayed troops. Next to him are five uniformed toadies, and one older guy not in uniform with a barely disguised disgusted look, with a balance-scale badge on his collar. Troops are at rigid attention, looks of passive boredom on their faces.

M
ajor Kraut: Ah, I
love
everything shined up and lined up for a proper inspection! They’ve been standing long enough. Let’s see what stupid shit these dolts and ancient hardware I’m saddled with managed to pull this time.

A chime sounds from the tablet of one of the toadies. He
develops a chagrined look, and Kraut looks at him with annoyance. It chimes again, louder, insistently. The toady glances down at it, and does a double-take. He clears his throat, hesitatingly.

Toady1: (
Sounding confused) Uhh… Sir? A ship is inbound. Headed right here, hot. ID says it’s a… What’s an
ACTING
Plataean warship? Not one of ours. Coming in… GOOD GOD! It’s coming WAY too fast!

They
shoot looks nervously about not knowing whether to run and hide. Kraut is angry.

Kraut: What the HE
LL do they mean, interrupting me like this! Who’s commanding that scow! I’ll have his ASS for this!

Toady 2: (
Pointing) THERE!

They look up, following his finger. Off in the distance, high but dropping and growing fast, is a gray dot streaming a contrail and smoke. It’s heading right for them.

The troops stand at nervous attention, daring to dart eyes at the incoming problem. The toadies squawk and panic. Kraut becomes angrier and doesn’t seem to consider the danger, only the interruption to his greatness.

Kraut: Shoot it down, SHOOT IT DOWN!

Toady3: With what, sir? Everyone is on parade! And it’s OURS!

Kraut: Someone
get on the landing carriers and
get
the guns online, DAMMIT! MOVE!

No
one moves beyond glancing nervously about, not quite sure who he’s ordering to break ranks.

Close
-up of the officer cluster, standing frozen, looking up at their impending doom. A sonic boom hits, then a descending scream of air as it slows. The toadies all cringe back as there is a huge, grinding, crunching, dirt-plowing crash, and the officers are swept by cloud of dust. A piece of metal, similar to a hubcap, rolls by through the dust, ringing on the concrete, testament to another hard landing. They wave their hands, and gradually the dust clears.