[05] Elite: Reclamation (26 page)

Dalk continued to close the range. He disarmed the laser, switching instead to his secondary weapon, a rail gun. With the shields now gone, his next hit needed to be precise and surgical. Too much and the
Talon
might break up, too little and Kahina would escape. The ship had to be crippled before she could activate the hyperdrive or the shields managed to recharge.

‘No … are you mad? You can’t shoot my ship with …’

Dalk’s hand closed on the trigger and a single blast of intense energy surged across the gap between the two ships. Hassan watched the track expecting to see his ship disintegrate in a fiery inferno. Dalk’s aim was perfect. The rail gun discharge hit the
Talon’s
starboard drive, shattering its inner workings and sending the ship into a spin. The on-board computers automatically shut the other drive down to compensate.

Hassan looked astonished.

‘… that,’ he finished.

‘We’ll lock on and board your ship.’ Dalk interrupted. ‘Help me get the girl safely aboard and I’ll tow you back to the station and pay for repairs. Acceptable?’

Hassan nodded. ‘Er, yeah … Whatever you say.’

The scanner beeped and then emitted a pulsing warning klaxon. Dalk looked at in surprise whilst Hassan stared out of the cockpit windows.

‘What the hell is …?’ Hassan said, open mouthed and pointing.

Dalk saw the predatory lines of a massive Anaconda-class vessel bearing down on them. It had simply appeared on the scanner. It must have coasted in, drives dead, cold and dark. Silent running.

He grabbed the flight controls and brought the
Coup de Grâce
around, arming the laser again.

‘Octavia Quinton,’ he said.

‘Oh shit … no,’ Hassan cried. ‘Not now … gods, look at that thing! We are so screwed …’

***

Octavia watched the approaching
Coup de Grâce
with amusement. It was a tough little ship, but it was severely outgunned in this contest. With his focus diverted by the fleeing Eagle, Dalk had been unable to see Octavia’s vessel drifting inwards, the sun behind it and drives off, stealthily closing the range.

Firing up the drives had triggered a response of course, but it was too late. The
Retribution
was an Anaconda-class ship, heavily customised and packing heavy ordnance.

‘Are we charged?’

‘Forward array is ready, Domina.’

Octavia grinned. The shield protecting the
Retribution
flashed and sprayed scintillating light under the fierce assault of a military laser. Ahead missiles streaked in the darkness. The
Retribution
shuddered, but was otherwise unaffected.

‘So, comrade Harfitt. Let’s see how you cope with this.’

Octavia glanced at the console.

Plasma Accelerator 100% Charged.

‘Forward weapons array. Open fire!’

***

The pilot’s chair had been wrenched from its mountings, but was still just attached. Salomé pulled herself out of it painfully, gasping as she struggled to move. That last jolt had almost knocked her out. She had no idea what had happened to her ship, but it was clearly bad. Redness tinged the edges of her vision and she blinked, trying to steady herself. Something felt sticky on her face and she wiped a hand across it. She looked in surprise at a bright red bloody smear.

Red lights flashed in various sequences of failure, alarm and emergency across the console. The displays were flickering, some showing nothing but static. There was a faint smell of hot metal wafting through the air supply. Staggering upwards she grasped one of the handholds and turned herself around to see out of the small rear windows of the cockpit.

She saw two ships. One was the
Coup de Grâce.
The other was bigger, it hadn’t been there a moment before. Laser fire blazed in the darkness and two missiles streaked out from the
Coup de Grâce
, impacting violently on the bigger ship. She squinted and shielded her eyes from the twin explosions. The ship seemed unaffected.

A glaring beam of intense white energy lanced out, impaling the
Coup de Grâce
across its flank. Electrical discharges crackled across the beleaguered vessel, ripping through hull plating and interior componentry, leaving the ship a smoking burnt out husk.

The beam of light faded, evaporating into the darkness. The big ship turned, facing her. Was she going to be obliterated too?

Salomé watched in apprehension as grappling pitons fired from the ship. Two missed, but one slammed into the unprotected hull of the
Talon
. Another alarm sounded.

Warning! Hull penetration in section 7! Leak suppression system in operation.

The
Talon
jolted and spun around underneath her, twisting helplessly like a hooked fish. Debris spiralled around the two ships. A second piton fired and hit with a resounding thump. The
Talon
steadied and hung impotently in the darkness. Salomé pulled herself back up and looked around.

Caught. They’re reeling me in!

She spun back to the console, seeking anything that she could do. Her eyes fastened on the only control that showed a green light.

Hyperspace subsystem: Spooled and ready.

She pulled herself back down, hitting the controls to activate the hyperspace systems.

The console buzzed angrily.

Error : No Hyperspace Co-ordinates Set.

Salomé pulled up the chart and selected a system at random, desperately jabbing the controls again. The console buzzed a second time.

‘No …’

She tried again with the same result before she squinted at the error display.

Warning : Mass-locked. Powered ships within range. Hyperdrive inoperative.

There was nothing she could do.

***

Dalk found himself pinned against the roof of his own cockpit. The
Coup de Grâce
was spinning out of control, the stars whirling past the viewer. As he watched, the arc of the planet slid into view causing him to squint in the sudden brightness.

Canopy Breach!

He could see Hassan slumped in the co-pilot’s chair. Around him the cockpit was in disarray. Instruments either dark or flashing red status. A large crack ran across one of the windows. Air was hissing out into the void. Dalk levered himself around, grabbing a pair of remlok masks from their holders, strapping one across his face before slowly making his way across to Hassan to repeat the process.

He punched out some commands on the console, using the few systems that remained operational. The ship was crippled. He’d never been on the receiving end of a plasma accelerator. It was amazing he was still here to be worrying about it. It couldn’t have been a direct hit.

His thoughts were awhirl. How had Octavia found him so fast? He’d been jumping as fast as was practically possible and his ship was state of the art, almost impossible to catch. Somehow Octavia had to have known where he was going.

He cursed.

Some kind of homing device? Should have seen that coming.

A frantic scan of the console showed the main drive was gone, as were most of the manoeuvring jets. Only the basic emergency attitude thrusters responded to his frantic diagnostic commands. The
Coup de Grâce
, blackened and burnt out but somehow still in one piece, sluggishly came to a halt and then turned to face the
Retribution
.

Dalk took in the situation in a single glance. The
Talon
had been caught and impaled. Two cables were being reeled back towards the
Retribution.
Octavia had her prize.

None of his weapons were working. The shields had failed.

He was dead in space.

Almost.

There was only one move left. If Kahina couldn’t be his …

He hit the thruster control.

***

Salomé stared in horror as the
Coup de Grâce
lurched towards her. She watched it, terrified and unable to move as it barrelled in, spinning, apparently out of control. As it closed she could see it was angled a little way aside, it wasn’t going to hit …

It’s aiming at the other ship!

Belatedly those aboard realised the intention. The big ship reversed course, pulling back out of the way, the
Talon
jolting along behind it. The
Coup de Grâce
couldn’t alter course sufficiently. Instead of hitting the ship it sliced into the cables near to the
Talon
. They whipped back, cutting vicious gashes across the hull of the
Coup de Grâce
and that of the other ship. The
Talon
lurched and spun away. The jolt almost tore the flight controls out of Salomé hands.

Salomé tried to steady her ship, but nothing would respond. She caught a glimpse of the battle and watched in detached fascination as the
Coup de Grâce
began to disintegrate from the shock of impact. She saw the starboard hull section twist, fold and detach from the rest of the vessel. Debris sprayed out in a spinning plume as electrical discharges crackled through the remains of the structure. The battle spun out of her field of view, still receding as the
Talon
spun away.

The console beeped and a siren sounded. Salomé looked down at it, trying to determine what had caused it. A series of diagnostic errors flooded the console, scrolling up faster than she could read. A hum rose around her. She recognised it from before.

Mass-lock cleared. Engaging hyperspace subsystem in 10 … 9 … 8 …

She stared for a moment, incredulous, before scrambling back into the co-pilot’s chair, pulling straps around her and grabbing the controls as the hum rose to a crescendo; a high pitched scream which was suddenly cut short.

Wait. The ship’s still spinning … Can’t stop it!

4 … 3 …

Spinning is bad for hyperspace. What was it that old woman said?

2 … 1 …

She called it something … a mis-jump!

Salomé reached out for the controls. It was too late.

Hyperspace engaged.

The
Talon
flickered, crackled … and disappeared.

Chapter Nine

Gerrun joined Zyair on the expansive boarding ramp of the Imperial transport
Aegidian,
turning to look back on the damaged and war-torn buildings of Leeson City. The Capital of Chione had been scarred by the aftermath of the assassination of the Senator Algreb.

‘Seen enough?’ Zyair asked. ‘The other Imperial vessels have departed. We’re the last.’

Gerrun looked at the horizon. ‘All given over to the wise auspices of our revolutionary friend, the self-styled Master of Chione. Everything has been ceded to him as requested, including the slaves.’

‘Curious how revolutionary ideals of freedom and self-determination are so easily cast aside once power and money creep into the equation,’ Zyair said. ‘Aren’t revolutionaries supposed to free the oppressed? I feel I should be waving a flag and singing. Am I becoming a hopeless romantic?’

Gerrun smiled. ‘My friend, no one would dare insult you thus. Though I imagine those slaves who revolted under the Senator are finding their new master’s sense of justice and equality rather eye opening.’

‘I will take great delight in bringing Vargo and his men to trial after this affair. It wouldn’t even need to be rigged.’

‘Filtered and calibrated for justice, I think you mean,’ Gerrun replied.

‘I know what I mean,’ Zyair grumbled.

The faint boom of a distant explosion rumbled across the sky. Shortly afterwards a plume of smoke could be seen rising from another building.

‘It would appear that the Master is struggling to assert his mastery.’ Gerrun smiled to see their ingenious plan coming to fruition, knowing Zyair had thought it too risky from the off. But they’d succeeded. They’d allowed the Reclamists to win and wear themselves out with the victory.

‘Now they’re exhausted,’ he said, ‘we can deliver the heir to the Loren family and reclaim this little moon once more.’

‘That’s all very well but our claim depends on the Loren daughter and if we can’t produce her on schedule ...’

‘I’m sure Dalk has it in hand.’

‘You are, are you? I remain unconvinced. Why has he not been in contact? If he’s lost her, then what?’

Gerrun shrugged. ‘Without the girl we have no claim, my good patron. The family line we followed is, alas, extinguished and we, loyal subjects of the Empire as we are, must find another Senator to serve.’

‘The Empire won’t give up this moon. You know that. A fleet is already massing.’

‘As are counterparts from the Federation. Is there an appetite for war? Threats and stratagems, perhaps the odd minor skirmish I will give you. But war, for one little moon? I think not. It’s too expensive.’

‘Let’s hope the diplomats’ wits are as sharp as you hope.’

‘I’m sure a mutually acceptable agreement will, in time, present itself.’

Zyair snorted. ‘You’re an optimist. The Federation undermined the operation here covertly by supporting these Reclamists. And yet …’

Gerrun nodded. ‘They seem curiously reluctant to supply Vargo and his men with sufficient weaponry to effectively subdue the population. They wait for something too.’

‘Perhaps they fear what he would do given that kind of firepower. An unexpected flash of wisdom?’

‘All intentions are yet to be made clear. In the meantime we must continue to be patient. It’s appropriate that we leave now. The situation will deteriorate further before it improves.’

‘And what of Dalk?’ Zyair asked.

A faint frown crossed Gerrun’s features. ‘I am concerned at his lack of communication, but we must trust he has matters under control. He knows what needs to be done and what the stakes are.’