The Rampant Storm Read online

  “Well, Captain,” she began. “We’ve been analyzing all the ship traffic in the system, and there’s something odd.”

  “Yes, the freighters. We discussed this.”

  “Something else, sir,” Swoboda spoke up. “Since even before the Gerrhans showed up, freighters have been scrambling in every direction—some are jumping out of system, some are heading for the outer planets,” Swoboda paused to place a display on his console. “And then there are these five merchant ships.”

  “What about them?” asked Adams, who had stepped forward to join the discussion.

  Nyondo answered. “These five freighters are moving in a very regular pattern, and they haven’t deviated from it since the Gerrhans entered the system. All five are inbound to Earth.”

  “All right,” said Pettigrew, failing to see what his officers were getting at. “They’re probably headed to the protection of Gaia Starport. That’s what ships do in a storm, right? They head for the shelter of the nearest harbor.”

  “All at exactly the same pace?” asked Swoboda. “Course projections indicate all five of them will arrive at Earth within minutes of each other. And they’re not heading for shelter—they’re heading for a rendezvous.”

  “They’re not heading for the starport, sir,” Nyondo added. “Their projected courses will take them to a position directly over Bakkoa.” Bakkoa was the largest city on the resettled planet and the seat of the Earth Federation government.

  “No one would ever notice this if they hadn’t been looking,” said Adams. “Good work, both of you.”

  “My bet is they’re carrying drop ships and troops,” said Pettigrew. “It’s an invasion.”

  “Or worse,” Adams added, thinking out loud as the others looked her way. “They could be drone controlled, robots programmed to crash into the city. We could be looking at WMDs here.” If the stakes weren’t high enough already, Adams just raised them.

  “We have to treat those vessels as potential hostiles. Again, good work you two. Taylin, send this information to Fleetmaster Rhaab, ASAP.”

  A few minutes later, there was an incoming signal from Maria Rhaab, EarthFed military commander in the Sol system. ‘Fleetmaster’ was the Earther equivalent to the rank of admiral and Rhaab was a stern, demanding leader. A rough-looking woman with a husky voice, her and Pettigrew had worked well together since her predecessor resigned from the military to take an administrative positon planetside.

  “Seems we have a predicament,” said Rhaab over the FTL comm channel. “My ships and I are headed out to reinforce you. We should be there in roughly forty-five standard minutes.”

  Pettigrew hesitated, careful not to show Rhaab disrespect. Technically, she was his superior officer in the current allied chain of command. “Fleetmaster, I think that’s exactly what the Gerrhans want.”

  “I know,” said Rhaab, brandishing a rare smile. “I agree with your assessment regarding the freighters. For a few more minutes, let’s let them think they’re getting their way. My people are timing it so that at the right moment, High Captain Jahak will turn back with half of my force to intercept the freighters. I will continue on to cover EarthGate, while your forces move to engage the she-wolf Choi.”

  Pettigrew suppressed his urge to laugh at the Fleetmaster calling Choi a she-wolf—many of his crew did not. “Fleetmaster, remind me to never play cards with you. We’re moving out now, which should put us in contact with the enemy just before you arrive at the Gate.”

  Rhaab nodded in agreement. “Good hunting, Captain. My ships will be at the Gate, but my warrior’s heart will be with you and your crews. Rhaab out.”

  Taylin Adams was standing beside her captain. “I think she likes you, sir,” the XO quietly teased.

  A cold stare was his only response. “Nyondo set an intercept course for the enemy fleet and signal the task force to match our speed and course.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  As the ten warships of SUSF Task Force 19 picked up speed, their commanding officer issued operational orders to his ship captains. The plan wasn’t complicated—the Union ships would apply braking thrusters to slow their speed just before enemy contact and hope the two heavy cruisers could draw the fire of the Gerrhan warships.

  “This whole operation is going to uncover our dirty little secret about the shields,” said Pettigrew, speaking with his captains in a conference call. “OMI still thinks the Gerrhans believe all of our ships have energy shielding. This engagement is going to show them the truth.”

  The reality was that only larger ships, battleships and cruisers, could be fitted with shields because of the enormous amounts of energy required to operate them. Destroyers, frigates, and smaller vessels simply couldn’t produce enough power for the Earther shield generators. Even the smaller EarthFed ships had only armor to protect them. Other starhold militaries may have guessed that by now, but after today, they would know it for sure.

  “Chaz, what if they decide not to engage? What if they blow right by us and head straight for the Gate?” asked Aaron Gambell, skipper of the cruiser Sinopa.

  “Then we better hope that Rhaab’s force gets there first. If it makes you feel any better, Aaron, Tempest and Sinopa will be out in front of the formation. We’re going to be tempting targets for them.”

  “Who could resist shooting at an ugly mug like yours, Aaron?” taunted Captain Beach of the destroyer Akikaze, attempting to break the tension. “By the way, Captain Pettigrew, which ship is Choi on?”

  Both the Union and the Commonwealth spied on each other relentlessly, so each side had ample intelligence on the other and more than enough to ID rival warships. The TF 19 captains were all looking at their tactical displays with each enemy vessel labeled.

  “The signal she used to speak with me came from the heavy cruiser Hannibal, but that’s not the flag. CIC is telling me the Gerrhans rerouted the communication through the Hannibal. Using the enemy signal traffic we’re picking up, my people are one-hundred percent sure Choi is on the Morrigan.

  “I want to make this clear—we fight on the basis of sound military principle, not a vendetta against one traitor. It is vitally important that we slow down the enemy in order to buy the Earth ships the time they need to get to the Gate. Everyone understand?”

  “The command pennant is yours, Captain. We read you loud and clear, sir,” said Gambell on behalf of the others.

  “All right, we start braking in fifteen minutes—maneuver your ships into battle formation just before. Good hunting, everyone.”

  After returning to the bridge, Pettigrew sat in his chair stewing. Something bothered him, and he didn’t know what it was.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Adams, standing by his side.

  “I don’t know, and that’s what’s wrong,” he groused. “Why in hell’s name did Choi translate into the system so far away from the Gate? And why is her force moving so slowly on their target? It’s as if she wants to give us time to get ready.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s all part of the deception to draw the Earth fleet away from the planet,” said Adams.

  “Ten minutes to engagement envelope,” reported Swoboda.

  “Maybe,” Pettigrew said. “If it was me and I wanted to destroy the Gate, I’d ignore the enemy fleet and proceed on to my primary target as fast as I could. I’d only engage us if we…”

  “If we what?” asked Adams.

  “If we gave them a reason to.”

  Adams knew the look. The others knew the tone of his voice. Something had clicked. Pettigrew quickly tapped his intraship comm badge. “Pettigrew to Carty.”

  “Lieutenant Carty here. What can I do for you, Captain?” Carty was chief of the cyber warfare department aboard Tempest.

  “Carty, when we were ship-to-ship with the Gerrhan flag a while ago, were there any worms or viruses embedded in the signals?”

  “Of course, sir—our bugs to them and their bugs to us. No sign we had any success though,” he said apologetically.

&nbs
p; “Right now I’m more interested in their bugs to us,” said Pettigrew hurriedly, knowing that time was growing short.

  “None got through, sir—I’m positive. We scrubbed everything sparkly clean.”

  “I’m sure you did, but did you analyze what their bugs were meant to do?”

  “Of course, sir. That’s SOP.”

  “Lieutenant, I want you to send a summary of your analysis to my station on the bridge—on the double.”

  As the information slid by on his console, Pettigrew mercifully found what he was looking for almost immediately.

  “Here it is!”

  “Here what is?” asked the puzzled Adams.

  “Five minutes, sir,” reported Swoboda.

  Pettigrew was frantically tapping in orders to the rest of his fleet on the console at his captain’s chair. “Commander, I think I found a way to make sure the enemy engages us instead of heading right for the Gate.”

  Commander Swoboda was the first to react to the orders his captain had just issued. “Are you serious, sir?”

  “This is not the time for a practical joke, Commander. Of course I’m serious!”

  Adams was staring wide-eyed at her console. “You’ve ordered the first missile volleys from all ships to miss their targets—intentionally?”

  Pettigrew went to fleetwide communications. “This is Pettigrew to all ships. We need to slow down the enemy in order to give the EarthFed force time to arrive at the Gate. When Choi communicated with Tempest earlier, the Gerrhans had a worm imbedded in the signal meant to infect our fire control systems. I want our first missile volleys to run intentionally wide so that the Gerrhans think their bug worked. I’m hoping that they’ll believe every ship in the task force got infected and that we’re all nice and vulnerable. When they slow to engage us, we’ll hammer them. Pettigrew out.”

  “Sir, how do you know the Gerrhans won’t just continue on, even if they think their bug worked?” asked Adams.

  “I served under Brin Choi for over a year, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she would never pass up a chance to kill off a wounded opponent. Believe me, she’ll stop and engage.”

  As the fourteen Commonwealth vessels reached the outside range of the Union missile envelope, the Gerrhan ships slowed their velocity, but only by a little.

  “First salvo ready and all fleet vessels are slaved to my fire control, sir,” reported Swoboda.

  “Very well,” said Pettigrew. “Give them a volley of missiles, Commander—and take care not to hit anything.”

  4: Holding

  Above Planet Sarissa

  This is your pilot speaking. We apologize for the delay, however as most of you are aware, yet another snowstorm is hitting the greater Boutwell area right now. As soon as we receive word that the landing pad has been cleared, we will begin our descent. Again, we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for flying Upali Sky, Boutwell’s best route to the stars.

  It was a brutal end to a brutal mission. Lots of death and destruction. Working with the insurgent forces was difficult, even if they were victorious in the end. Frank Carr and Etta Sanchez had just helped to overthrow the tyrannical government of the Threnn Mandate, but Carr wasn’t sure the people of Threnn were any better off for it. Of course, that really didn’t matter to the OMI. Their job was to help the rebels win, and that’s what they did. Now the new Threnn regime was beholden to the Sarissan Union, and that was the real mission. Put people in power that owed you one. It was all about who was indebted to whom and what you could collect from them.

  At least they were back in Union space now, even if they were stuck on a commercial shuttle hanging somewhere between the Arisugawa Starport and the surface of Sarissa. Storm below or not, the planet looked mighty good to Carr, because there were times on Threnn when he felt they would never see home again.

  “Major Carr,” said the pretty cabin attendant as she leaned over to have a word and show a little more cleavage than usual, “while we wait, could I bring you anything—a drink maybe?”

  “No, thanks,” said Carr. An Old Oakfield would taste good right now, but he was tired and alcohol would just make him sleepy.

  The attendant lingered, trying to strike up a conversation. “Hey, I read an article about you on ONElink a few months back. It was nice of you to give that statue, or whatever it was, to the national museum. I’ll bet you could have gotten a lot of money for it on the private market.”

  The Dragoneer Vase was a gift from the Earth government. It was to be sold in order to relieve the financial burden of medical care for his sister. Unfortunately, Shannon Carr died before her brother returned from Earth. Instead of cashing in, Carr donated the priceless item to the people of the starhold.

  He understood why the Union Museum had run that piece on ONElink about the acquisition of the Dragoneer Vase. After all, it was quite a triumph for them to acquire a piece of antiquity from the Otherverse. The problem was that they had also committed a huge breach of security by publishing his name in the article. Director Tolbert fumed for days afterward.

  Carr forced a polite smile. “Thanks, but art like that belongs on public display where everyone can have a chance to see it.”

  “That’s a very noble thought,” said the girl, oblivious to his body language, which was screaming ‘go away!’ “So are you returning from a business trip?”

  “Something like that,” he said in a fatigued voice.

  “Well, my name is Tracy, if you need anything—anything at all, Major Carr.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, but I have everything I want.”

  “Then you’re a very fortunate man,” she said before continuing down the aisle.

  A few seconds later, there was rustling in the reclined seat next to him. “Oh, Major Carr,” the olive-skinned woman said in her best cabin attendant voice, “where the hell are we and what’s going on?” Throwing off the coat that was doubling as a blanket, Etta Sanchez sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  “Thought you were asleep.”

  “Just catnapping,” she answered, squinting at one of the ultra-def monitors that served as windows on a spaceship. “We’re still in space. Why aren’t we moving?” she asked with a small yawn.

  “Catnapping, huh?” he said, throwing her an amused look. “We’re on hold.”

  “On hold? What?” she asked, struggling to wake up.

  “There’s a snowstorm planetside. We can’t land until conditions improve, so we’re holding. Maybe you should go to the cabin and offer your piloting skills.”

  “Yeah,” she said, stifling another yawn. “You bet your shiny head I could land this bucket of bolts.”

  “Relax and go back to sleep.”

  “Well, if Racy Tracy comes back around, have her bring me a coffee.” Sanchez turned on her side as best she could and pulled the coat back up over her.

  “Next week on Quijano, I’ll buy you a whole bucket of coffee.”

  She giggled softly, smiled, and closed her eyes again.

  The plan was to rest up in Boutwell for a few days before traveling to planet Quijano. Etta was looking forward to visiting her mom and doing what she called ‘the cousin tour,’ which would keep her quite busy considering the size and scope of Clan Sanchez.

  Meanwhile, Carr was going antique shopping. He made a sizable side income from his hobby, and Quijano was one of the earliest settled Union worlds, with many valuable pieces just waiting to be discovered. People would have house sales where they would sell off some old piece of furniture and Carr would recognize it for what it was, say a two-hundred year old Vertiz dresser. He’d buy it for a pittance, refurbish it, and then sell it for thousands. It wasn’t only profitable, but also great fun—and much safer than being shot at by enemy agents. Of course, there seemed to be less of that these days with Sanchez covering his back.

  Commander Etta Sanchez had turned into a first-class operative for the Office of Military Intelligence. Her intuition and athletic abilities had saved their lives at least t
wice during the last month alone. Add in the fact that she was the best pilot he had ever been around and it made her an exceptional intelligence agent. Between Carr’s experience and Sanchez’s savvy, they were a formidable duo. Director Tolbert continued to pair them on missions, saying the twosome was his ‘go-to team.’

  It almost wasn’t so, however. Carr and Sanchez had become involved after a mission to Earth a couple of years ago. Their work led to a relationship, which in turn led to Jason Tolbert. The Director always seemed to be well informed about the personal lives of his operatives, and Tolbert not so gently reminded them that love and work didn’t mix, especially in their business.

  Of course, he was right. Intelligence work was an addiction though, and both Carr and Sanchez were hooked. The close calls, the adrenaline rushes, the travel, the triumphs—neither of them wanted to relinquish that life, at least not yet. They loved working together, so to save their professional partnership they had settled into a platonic ‘arrangement.’ Someday maybe that would change again, but for now, both of them seemed to be comfortable with how things were.

  The shuttle was moving again, beginning its descent toward Sarissa. Sanchez shifted slightly in her seat but didn’t stir—she had gone back to sleep. Carr glanced at the window monitors. He could see the monster storm over the coast now as the shuttle approached landfall. At least the cold and snowy Boutwell weather would be far easier to tolerate for a few days knowing that this time next week they would be enjoying themselves on a tropical world.

  5: BE2

  Heavy cruiser Tempest

  Sol System

  “Incoming!”

  As Captain Pettigrew had ordered, Task Force 19’s entire first salvo of missiles had gone wide of the mark, missing all fourteen Commonwealth vessels. It had been a fancy piece of last second programming on the part of David Swoboda in order to achieve that degree of ineptitude.

  The deception paid off though. Just as the captain predicted, the Gerrhan ships slowed dramatically, as Admiral Choi ordered them into braking protocols in order to take advantage of their ‘confused’ enemy. However, they hadn’t come as close as Pettigrew would have liked.