[05] Elite: Reclamation (11 page)

The scanner crackled with static momentarily, the holofac displays flickering uncertainly.

The navigation officer frowned and ran a diagnostic, no errors appeared.

‘Still not happy?’ The captain queried, still standing behind him.

The helm officer shook his head, ‘Just picking up some static, probably a gamma ray burst or something.’

The captain tweaked a few settings on the scanner. ‘More likely we got short-changed on the last maintenance stop,’ he muttered.

The dull red glow of the starboard fighter flared. As the captain stared, it became a red stain on the scanner as it broke from its patrol pattern, hurtling towards them at flank speed.

‘What’s he doing?’ the captain demanded. ‘Call him up.’

‘Flight One from
Caduceus
. Explain deviation from flight path.’

A crackle of static erupted from the narrowband channel then faded to a low buzz that drowned everything else.

‘Impedance on all narrowband comms, sir. Communication bandwidth just dropped to zero.’

Shock coursed through the captain’s body. Jammed! ‘Sound general quarters! All weapons hot. Shields to full power.’

He raced to secure himself in his flight chair, aware of the other two bridge officers scrambling to get back to theirs before the deadly effects of inertia at battle stations crushed the life from them all. Whirring mechanical thumps echoed through the hull as weapons emerged from their storage pods and locked into place on the hull of the ship.

Six fighters burst out of the darkness. They were small. An Asp, an Eagle and a troop of Sidewinders; classic fighting machines. Neither as quick nor manoeuvrable as the Imperial fighters, but they had the advantage of surprise and carried enormous firepower.

The
Caduceus’
targeting computers locked onto the closest attacker and the auto-cannon weapons began their staccato fire. The incoming fighters scattered.

‘All ships! Break and defend. I repeat. Break and defend,’ the captain yelled into the narrowband comms as his seat enveloped him.

He stared in disbelief. The Imperial fighter still flanking the
Caduceus
seemed oblivious to the danger. The attackers were close, too close.

He can’t hear us and hasn’t seen them.

Missiles flickered on the threat warning indicators. Electronic counter measure systems activated immediately. That got everybody’s attention; astrogation consoles lit up like solstice celebrations.

The missiles came on, two apiece, indefatigable. The attackers were taking no chances. The ECM aboard the
Caduceus
spun out its charged energy halo in vain. Hard-head missiles, expensive, but effective.

The captain watched in despair as the missiles impacted on the
Caduceus’
shields, splashing debris across space, fire blossoming briefly in the cold void before being extinguished.

Laser fire raked across the
Caduceus’
shields a moment later, with a faint thrum of energy. The shields flared in response, protecting the ship. The Sidewinders jinked past, threading a course through the defensive flak-fire spraying from the beleaguered Imperial vessel.

Hassan saw one of the two Imperial fighters drawing a bead on his companion’s Sidewinder. A fierce red beam of light leapt out, shredding the Sidewinder’s port upper hull plate. Plasma, fuel and coolant leaked into the void, streaming behind the mortally wounded vessel. Hassan heard a brief scream on the narrowband before the ship disintegrated.

He wrenched his ship around, trying to concentrate on the wildly twisting Imperial fighter rather than the dizzying whirl of motion that the star field backdrop had become. His Eagle’s own pulse lasers struck out, flaring brightly in the faint wisps of dust and gas through which the battle raged. The beams sliced neatly across the Imperial fighter’s starboard engine nacelle, completely severing it. The fighter spun up like an out of control centrifuge and broke apart.

‘I got one!’ Hassan yelled.

‘All escorts down. Concentrate fire on the target’s rear shield generators,’ the voice of the lead pirate was matter of fact. ‘Watch the flak. Missiles for the drives; disable only. Too much damage and we don’t get paid.’

The five remaining ships spread out in a loose formation and formed up behind the besieged Imperial Cutter.

***

The
Caduceus
jolted severely. There was a hideous cracking sound followed by the terrifying hiss of escaping air.

Canopy breach!

The room filled with streams of condensation, the ventilation system unable to compensate for the pressure drop. The hiss grew to a wail and then a shriek. The navigation officer turned to see the captain had been thrown from his chair, the mechanism damaged.

‘Captain? Captain!’

The captain, blood drenching his face and uniform, managed to get to his feet and stagger back.

‘I’m alright. Shields?’

‘Rear shields gone sir! Forward shields holding at thirty-six per cent. Weapons offline.’

‘What about the hyperspace drive?’

‘Still spooling, sir. Thirty seconds …’

A missile slammed into the unprotected ship’s starboard engine nacelle. The nacelle cracked and shattered, partly detaching from the main body of the ship, sending the
Caduceus
into a brain jarring spin. Unprotected from the inertia the captain was flung across the bridge, smashing into the far bulkhead with a sickening thud, his body pinned as the ship helplessly gyrated. The bulkhead came apart with the strain. The navigation officer had a brief glimpse of the captain’s body being ripped apart as both he and the bulkhead were explosively ejected into space. Then, in abrupt silence, the vacuum took the rest of them.

***

Hassan saw the bridge depressurise and bodies eject silently into the void with tiny fragments of debris. From his vantage point he couldn’t tell if the Imperial crew had remlok masks. It didn’t matter much, they were dead anyway, no one was going to rescue them out here. Survival gear was only going to prolong the inevitable. He wished he hadn’t seen the bodies. It made the nagging guilt worse. People had just died. He was an accomplice in an illegal act of piracy.

‘Just this once …’ he murmured to himself.

‘Ship is ours,’ the lead pirate acknowledged. ‘Secure it and take it in tow.’

Hassan stabilised his own vessel and slotted in behind the other pirates. Two of the Sidewinders cautiously fired grappling pitons that dug into the hull of the rotating Imperial Cutter, taking care to avoid the clouds of debris that now accompanied it. It was a delicate operation, but the pirates had long experience of such manoeuvres. With deft thrusts and careful vectoring they brought the rotation under control.

A course was set and the wreck of the
Caduceus
was towed away.

***

‘Must we go through with this?’

Patron Zyair looked pained. Gerrun smiled reassuringly.

‘My friend, politics was ever thus. We must play our parts as the scene dictates. Representatives of the Imperial Senate we remain.’

The two men stood outside the Imperial Palace, surveying the tarnished glory of the entrance foyer. The dust had settled, but the beautiful interior still bore the marks of weapons fire. Tapestries were ripped and torn, delicately wrought masonry chipped and smashed, statues defaced and walls marked with crudely drawn slogans.

Zyair allowed his optical enhancers to slip down to the end of his nose. He peered over them with a stern, almost academic, look as he studied his companion.

‘You seem awfully accepting of this. Need I remind you that these, these … barbarians have just murdered our senator and his entire family?’

Zyair’s eyes drifted briefly to the dark smears that still stained the floor. The doors to the hall were riddled with bullet holes and hanging loosely from their damaged mountings.

‘Almost his entire family,’ Gerrun replied. ‘Alas, the abuse of power rarely occurs without consequences.’

The doors creaked and a man emerged. The two men recognised him immediately.

‘Patron Dalk,’ Zyair said, favouring Dalk with a slight bow. ‘Or should I call you revolutionary Dalk now?’

‘Dalk is sufficient.’

‘Or traitor Dalk?’ Zyair continued. ‘That has a ring to it I feel.’

Dalk ignored him and turned to Gerrun. ‘I trust our ships are safely en route?’

Gerrun nodded. ‘They broke orbit and made the jump to hyperspace without intervention. They should arrive at Haoria within twenty hours.’

‘Then our duty to the Loren Lineage remains assured,’ Dalk replied. ‘Gentlemen, I must crave your indulgence further. Power must now be ceded and you must do the ceding.’

‘Another punishment we are forced to bear?’ Zyair added with a heavy sigh. ‘We suffer for your intrigue, Dalk.’

‘There is worse to come,’ Dalk added.

‘In what way?’ Zyair asked.

‘I fear a rather demeaning experience awaits us,’ Gerrun said. ‘We must appear servile, meek and deferential; lest we offend the new owner of this little world.’

‘Obsequious even,’ Dalk said, with a grin.

‘I will not bow and scrape to an upstart criminal.’

‘I suggest you do,’ Gerrun said. ‘Your life may very well depend upon it.’

‘I dislike this more every single day …’

‘You have the documents?’ Dalk talked across him.

‘Of course we have the damn documents. Do you think us fools? More importantly, can these ruffians actually read?’

‘The deeds themselves are sufficient,’ Dalk said. ‘Their value to the Reclamists is, shall we say, symbolic.’

‘And what is to stop these thugs from slitting our throats once they have what they want?’ Zyair demanded.

‘Dalk will have persuaded them that peaceful co-existence with the representatives of the Empire is in their best interest,’ Gerrun said, looking to Dalk for confirmation.

Dalk nodded.

‘You play a dangerous game, Dalk.’

‘All worthwhile games are dangerous, Zyair. Follow me.’

‘And to the victor, the spoils,’ Gerrun added, under his breath.

Dalk led them into the hall, which was still strewn with the debris from the interrupted wedding feast. Tables remained overturned. Zyair and Gerrun were led across the floor, stepping carefully around the shattered decorations, fallen chandeliers and furniture. Both grasped in dismay to find that the Senator’s body and that of his wife, family and staff remained where they had fallen, their blood-stained corpses a testament to their gory end.

Next to them, reclining in a chair with his feet propped up level with his head, was the leader of the Reclamists; Vargo. He held the Senator’s sceptre, the mark of his office, a highly valuable staff decorated with many centuries of family history and other heraldry. Vargo tapped the sceptre lightly against his hand.

Dalk stepped forward.

‘May I present Patrons Zyair and Gerrun,’ Dalk began. ‘Servants of the Empire and here to …’

‘Imperial dogs will bow in the presence of the Master of Chione,’ Vargo interrupted, not even looking at them.

Zyair and Gerrun exchanged a glance. Dalk nodded at them, almost imperceptibly. Zyair and Gerrun bowed the knee, their heads lowered. Vargo could not see Zyair’s flushed face.

Vargo swung his legs around and stood up.

‘So this is the best of what’s left of the Imperial hierarchy is it?’ Vargo crowed. ‘A corpulent lackey and a timeworn minion. They should distribute Imperial rations more evenly I feel. This one gorges himself fit to burst whilst this one wastes away. And I thought you told me the Imperials valued egalitarianism, Dalk.’

Zyair and Gerrun remained bowed.

‘No system is perfect,’ Dalk replied.

‘You don’t say.’ Vargo strode up to the duo of Patrons. ‘Words that seem confirmed by the presence of these two less than inspiring examples of Imperial might and splendour.’

Vargo stepped directly in front of them. ‘Stand up, sycophants.’

Zyair and Gerrun climbed slowly to their feet, one troubled by his age, the other by his weight. Vargo stared at them closely.

‘You supported Senator Algreb, did you not?’

Zyair and Gerrun nodded slowly.

Vargo gestured to the pale blood-stained body of the Senator.

‘I have … usurped his position,’ Vargo strolled around the pair, continuing to tap the sceptre in his hand. ‘What does your mighty Imperium make of that?’

‘There are those,’ Gerrun began, ‘ourselves amongst them, who considered the erstwhile Senator had rather exceeded his mandate …’

‘Acting without the greater consent and accord of wider Imperial interests,’ Zyair continued, his voice rapid and stuttering.

‘The outrageous murder of innocents and the subjugation of an entire world,’ Vargo mused. ‘Is it such a little thing in your Empire?’

‘An atrocious crime,’ Gerrun hastened to reassure him. ‘Egregious in the extreme …’

‘Debauched and base,’ Zyair added. ‘To be deplored utterly.’

‘You did not approve of your Senator’s actions then?’

‘It has never been the place of a Patron to question a Senator,’ Gerrun answered, carefully. ‘Suffice to say, our support of the Loren Lineage is at an end.’

‘The Loren Lineage is no more.’ Vargo raised his voice. ‘They are slain along with their hated progeny. This is my world now.’

Zyair and Gerrun nodded dutifully.

‘If it please you, Master of Chione,’ Zyair managed to grate out, holding up a sealed tube. ‘We have prepared a revised deed of tenure, pursuant to your rise to eminence; setting out the rights and entitlements previously accorded to the Loren Lineage. With their demise, such rights both legal and temporal belong to ...’

‘The surviving settlers who escaped Imperial carnage,’ Vargo said, snatching the tube and tapping its side. A holofac representation of a document appeared, projected by the tube. Vargo scanned it briefly and then pocketed it.

‘It also contains an Imperial mandate, promising no further interference in the government of this world,’ Gerrun explained. ‘In exchange for …’

‘Exchange? You’re in no position to bargain.’