04 Dark Space (14 page)

“Commander,” Hoff said.

“Sir!”

“You have the bridge until I get there. I have to attend to some urgent business. Have Lieutenant Hanz contact Commander Leskin of the outlaw fleet and Praetor Roan of the Gors. Tell them to come aboard ASAP and to wait for me in the operations center.”

Commander Akra nodded. “It will be done. Immortals be with you, sir.”

Hoff smiled wanly at the irony of her words. “Let us hope they are with us all soon.”

“Yes, sir . . .” the commander said with an accompanying frown. Like almost everyone in Dark Space, she didn’t understand that immortals existed in more than just the stories that parents told their children about their ancestors—powerful beings who never die and keep watch over humanity from Etheria.

Hoff stepped aside for Commander Akra to enter the rail car. As soon as she was through the door, he turned and hurried down the corridor to a nearby bank of lift tubes.

It’s time to give the Sythians what they want.

Chapter 9

H
off entered the operations center for the third time in as many days. This time he sat down behind the glossy black holo table with a sense of impending doom rather than the feeble hope that everything was going to be okay. Humanity’s chances had gone from slim to none. He had thought they’d have more time before the Sythians arrived with a fleet strong enough to overwhelm their defenses, but he’d been wrong. The only reason the Sythians hadn’t already attacked was because humanity had something they were looking for—according to them that something was revenge on the Gors, but Hoff suspected they were really after the location of Avilon.

He just hoped his gambit would work. He was about to take a big risk with his allies, but ultimately that risk was in the spirit of protecting the alliance. He couldn’t accede to the Sythians demands without alienating the Gors forever, and he couldn’t let the outlaws know his real intentions without knowing that he could fully trust them.

The doors to the operations center
swished
open and in stepped Master Commander Leskin. His glowing blue eyes found Hoff and there they lingered for a long, silent moment.

Hoff cleared his throat and gestured to the chair to his left. “Take a seat, Commander.”

Leskin’s glowing facial tattoos chose that moment to pulse a brighter red, making his features stand out in the devlinish light radiating from his own skin. He gave no sign that he had heard Hoff, but moved to take his seat nonetheless.

They spent several tense moments waiting for Roan to arrive. Leskin eyed Hoff carefully, but said nothing, as if expecting his deadly silence to unnerve the admiral.

For his part, Hoff stared right back, smiling smugly and basking in the man’s silence. Under any normal circumstances a thug like Leskin wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near an ISSF vessel, and he certainly wouldn’t be made privy to a highly sensitive battle plan.

All of five minutes later the doors
swished
open once more, and in stomped a two meter-high Gor, fully armored in his glossy black exoskeleton, the glowing red multifaceted eyes of Roan’s helmet found Hoff almost immediately. He wiped the smug smile he’d been using on Leskin from his face out of respect for Roan’s loss. Rising from his chair, he gestured to the table. “Please sit down, Roan.”

The Gor made no move to take a seat, but instead warbled something unintelligible at Hoff. The translation reached his ear a moment later via the translator he wore. Hoff had never heard a Gor’s voice boom before, but Roan’s did.

“Tova is dead. How?”

He wasn’t surprised that Roan had found out about his mate’s death. Gors were telepaths, and as his mate, Tova would have contacted him before she’d died.

Hoff shook his head sadly. “She died trying to stop a traitor who threatened to detonate a bomb on the bridge of this ship. He succeeded, killing her and several others in the process.”

For a long time, Roan said nothing. He didn’t so much as twitch. Hoff felt a flicker of dread begin worming through his gut, and he turned to look at the pair of sentinels standing inside the entrance of the operations center. Normally they wouldn’t be allowed to listen in on a meeting like this, but they were a necessary precaution since Hoff wasn’t sure he could trust either of the other attendees.

“I understand that this is a shock,” Hoff said carefully, “and I am sorry for your loss. I can only imagine if it were my mate, but there is more, and I’m afraid we need you to set aside your grief for the moment in order to be a leader for your people. Can you do that, Roan?”

“Why she attack this . . . traitor?”

“He threatened to kill us if we didn’t accede to the Sythians’ demands. They demanded that we surrender and hand your people over to them so that the Gors could be punished for their rebellion. In exchange, they would agree to leave us in peace.”

“And, what do you say?”

“I said that we don’t make deals with Sythians. The traitor was not satisfied with that.” Hoff turned to Leskin with a scowl. “That traitor was your very own Captain Ocheron. He killed himself, Tova, and at least one of my men.”

Leskin looked up at Hoff and at last he spoke. “Ocheron was a fool, but he was not wrong to say we should give in to the Sythians’ demands.”

Roan rounded on Leskin, and again his voice boomed through the operations center. “I kill you for your treachery!”

“Hold on, Roan,” Hoff said raising a hand to stop the alien from doing something rash and following in his mate’s footsteps.

Leskin turned to glare at Roan as the alien subsided. “That’s a good skull face. Remember who has who on the leash.”

“That’s enough!” Hoff roared.

“Yes, it is,” Leskin said, rising to his feet. “Enough of this charade! Enough of this phony alliance! We’ve all seen the enemy fleet, Hoff, and we know what we’re up against. You can’t honestly expect us to believe that we can win. If we don’t give into the Sythians’ demands, it won’t be just the Gors who are on their way to the netherworld, it will be all of us! If you want to take us down with you, we’re not going to be a part of it.”

Hoff held Leskin’s gaze with a grim smile. “Who’s this
we
you speak of
,
Commander?”

“Myself and all of those who agree with me.”

“You’re suggesting a coup.”

“I’m suggesting we stop fooling ourselves.”

“Very well,” Hoff nodded. “You leave me no choice. Guards, arrest that man for treason.”

Neither one of the sentinels standing at the door responded to his command. Hoff turned to them with a frown. “I said . . .” he trailed off suddenly as he realized his mistake. The sentinels had drawn their weapons and had them pointed at his chest, which could only mean one thing. They were former outlaws and not true ISSF officers.

“So you’re going to shoot me, and what? Take over the Imperium yourself?”

Leskin shrugged and pushed out his chair to leave. “If that’s what it takes to make an intelligent decision around here, then yes.”

But Hoff wasn’t the only one who’d made a miscalculation. As soon as Leskin vacated his seat, Roan’s arm shot out in a blur and grabbed him by the throat.

“Shoot, and I squeeze,” Roan warbled at the guards.

Hoff nodded, smiling. “What do you say Leskin? Now we can both die. We can leave the Gor to command us. I dare say it will be an improvement.”

Leskin struggled to speak despite the giant hand constricting his trachea. “Put your guns down,” he croaked.

The guards reluctantly did so, and Hoff nodded to Roan. “Release him.”

The alien turned to look at him. “You are sure?”

“Yes.”

Roan released Leskin, and the man almost fell to the deck. He stood rubbing his throat and grimacing. Hoff shook his head in dismay. “I’m going to pretend that little incident didn’t just happen. We’ll blame it on a bad case of stim poisoning.”

Leskin’s glowing blue eyes narrowed.

“Outlaws aren’t
ever
going to enjoy taking orders from me, and I can’t get rid of all of you. We need each other, Commander. Especially now. So I have to convince you that my plan is the best one, and for that, I need you to listen.”

Leskin seemed to consider that. “All right, if you don’t plan to give in to the Sythians’ demands, what do you propose?”

“I propose we call their bluff.”

“What bluff?”

“Sit down—both of you—” Hoff said with a quick glance in Roan’s direction. “—and I’ll explain.”

As soon as both were seated, Hoff began to invent a half fictitious story about how he had used a cloaked cruiser to slip out into the enemy formation and scan the Sythians’ ships. He told them the scans revealed that the Sythians’ fleet was all but empty, and the Sythians hadn’t had time to enslave enough humans to properly crew their ships.

The truth was Hoff
had
sent out a cloaked venture-class while they’d made the Sythians wait for an audience, but the scans had come back with bad news, not good—the Sythian ships waiting at the edge of the nebula were teeming with human crews.

But neither Leskin nor Roan had seen those scans, at least not yet, and they both bought the lie completely.

“Then they don’t have the force to beat us,” Leskin said.

Hoff smiled and shook his head. “No.”

“Sythians are without honor,” Roan added. “To them lies taste sweet and the truth is bitter.”

“So it would seem,” Hoff said, feeling a stab of doubt. Roan was going to think the same of him when he found out that the Sythians’ bluff wasn’t a bluff at all. “With that in mind, our strategy is the same as it was. We stand together, and we hold our ground.”

Leskin began nodding slowly, and Hoff turned to Roan, his lips curving downward in sympathy. “One more thing before you both go—Roan, you should know that the Sythians claim to have killed all of your people in retaliation for the Gors’ rebellion. He said that they even killed your people on Noctune. We have no way of knowing if any of that is true, but . . .”

Roan abruptly rose from his chair. “I leave you now.”

“Did you hear me, Roan?”

“I hear you, but you ask me to put my grief aside to lead my people, and that is what I do. I feel pain later, when it is safe to feel.”

Hoff blinked, surprised by his answer. “Humanity could stand to learn something from your people, Roan.” He turned to Leskin. “Do you have any questions?”

“No. If what you say is true, then your plan makes sense—for now.”

“Good. Then we are in agreement.” Hoff rose from the table and started for the doors. When he reached them he stopped to glare at the pair of sentinels who’d drawn their weapons on him, and then he turned to Leskin with a scowl. “Do me a favor and take your dogs with you when you leave.”

Leskin returned his scowl with a thin smile. “Of course.”

Hoff stood at the doors, waiting for them to leave. Roan came to stand beside him and watch the ex-cons go. Once Leskin and his goons were far enough away, Hoff turned to the alien and whispered, “I need to speak with you, Roan—in private.”

The alien regarded him silently. “What do you wish to speak about?”

Hoff shook his head. “Meet me in my office in one hour.”

“Human time.”

“Yes. Make sure Leskin does not see you.”

“No one sees me unless I wish them to.”

“Good.”

Roan turned to leave, and Hoff waited until he was out of hearing before reaching up to his ear to make a call to Commander Leskin.

As soon as the outlaw answered, Hoff said, “Leskin, don’t speak. Listen carefully. Make sure Roan sees you on your way to the hangar, but then find a way to come back to the operations center. Meet me as soon as you can, but leave your guards waiting at your ship. We need to talk in private. It’s about the Gors. I’ll be waiting.”

“Of course . . .” Leskin purred on the other end of the comm.

With that, Hoff ended the call and went back to his chair at the head of the holo table.

It was time to put together the real battle plan.

*   *   *

Commander Leskin returned to the operations center and took his seat beside Hoff. “All right, I’m here. What did you want to discuss with me?” he asked, folding his hands on the table.

Hoff nodded. “I brought you here alone because I wanted to tell you the real plan, and the truth about the enemy. We
did
perform scans on the Sythian fleet, but the truth is we found their ships fully-crewed and ready for war. Their posturing at the edge of the nebula is no bluff, Commander. It’s a reality we have to face.”

Leskin sat back suddenly. “Then I was right. We have to surrender.”

“Yes, but the Gors can’t know we intend to give them up to the Sythians.”

“I understand.”

“When I give the word, your fleet and mine are going to fly away from them. At that point I will contact the Sythians and tell them to go get their slaves.”

“What about us? Are we setting any terms for the surrender?”

“I’ll try, but we’re in no position to negotiate. We’ll just have to trust that the Sythians keep their end of the deal and leave us in peace.”

“And if they don’t?”

Hoff shrugged. “Pray that you’re still in a position to flee. I’m not sure why the Sythians would want to kill us at all, but they may choose to disarm us and take more direct control over our sector, perhaps using us as a resource base to begin colonizing the galaxy. Either way . . .”

“It’s still better than extinction.”

“Exactly,” Hoff said.

“What will you tell the Gors?”

“I’ll tell them we’re going to give the appearance of betraying them in order to launch a surprise attack.”

“Do you think they will buy it?”

Hoff shrugged. “With luck they’ll believe it long enough for me to at least get all the Gors off this ship. Have your people ready for a surprise attack from the Gors, just in case.”

Leskin nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

This time Hoff and Leskin left the operations center together. They parted ways at the lift tubes, with Hoff heading up to his office near the ruined bridge deck and Leskin heading down to the hangars.