Atlantia Series 3: Aggressor Read online

  ‘I want to speak to my captain.’

  Salim chuckled, his jowls wobbling. ‘I’m sure you do, but my conversations with your captain are well and truly over. In fact, if their ship does not leave within the next few hours, our conversations will be over too as I’ll have you executed.’

  ‘Then you won’t find out where the Devlamine is,’ Evelyn replied.

  ‘I doubt that your own crew knows where the damned Devlamine is,’ Salim snapped back. ‘Either way, it will belong to us just as you do.’

  ‘I can get them to bring it down here,’ Evelyn promised, ‘in exchange for our release.’

  ‘They’ll bring it down here in exchange for your lives,’ Salim growled. ‘And you’ll be staying, whether you like it or not. You’re our insurance that your captain does not attempt to launch an assault on our little home.’

  ‘He won’t, for now at least,’ Evelyn replied, ‘but I can assure you that they will not abandon us here either. In the past two years Atlantia has defeated an infected Colonial cruiser, two Veng’en battleships and the Word in close combat. If it means sacrificing us to ensure your pirate lair is neutralised, then if pushed to it the captain will not hesitate to do so. Sooner or later, one way or the other, the Atlantia will liberate us and when it does it’ll be you and your men awaiting execution.’

  Salim glared at her and the pirates around him wore concerned expressions as they awaited their leader’s response.

  ‘If he were that mercenary he would have attacked already.’

  ‘He’s considering his options,’ Evelyn said. ‘If I know him, when he hits us it’ll be when there is no other way, and you’re not giving him many options. If we truly are to be killed, then he will simply remove us from the equation and kill you anyway.’

  Evelyn kept her gaze on Salim even though she could see Teera’s eyes widening as a what-the-hell? expression spread across her features. Salim ground his teeth in his skull.

  ‘We have a frigate of our own, in case you hadn’t noticed?’

  ‘Without either a coherent crew or properly trained pilots,’ Evelyn reminded him. ‘Atlantia has both and the advantage of orbit. You try to take off, they’ll destroy you before you break orbit. Take it from me, Salim: you think you’re in control here but right now all you’ve got is borrowed time and not much of it. Let me talk to my captain and maybe we can arrange something other than the death of every single person in this compound.’

  Salim’s pirates were now watching Evelyn with guarded expressions, some of their hands resting on the butts of personalised plasma pistols and highly polished blades. Salim continued to glare at Evelyn, and then he made his decision.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said finally, and looked across at one of the pirates. ‘Establish a communications link with Atlantia.’

  The pirate, without looking, reached out for a control panel and flipped a switch that sent a signal to the orbiting frigate. Salim stood and from his belt he removed the broad, elegantly curved blade that he wore. He stepped down off the throne mount and walked to Evelyn’s side, and with one hand he raised the blade to her throat and moved behind her.

  ‘Speak, my lovely,’ he whispered, ‘and it’ll be the last sound you ever make.’

  *

  Captain Idris Sansin strode toward the Atlantia’s bridge with General Bra’hiv at his side.

  ‘Are your men ready?’

  The general nodded.

  ‘All aboard and as ready as they can be,’ he replied. ‘Are you sure he can be trusted? That either of them can be trusted?’

  ‘We will trust them with this,’ Idris replied. ‘What about the sanctuary?’

  ‘I’ve pulled all of the troops out but kept the guards on the exits. The civilians are getting more and more agitated and they’re openly complaining about the lack of information they’re getting from the command crew.’

  ‘Let them complain,’ Idris replied. ‘Right now we don’t have the time to handle a crisis down in the sanctuary. If they push back too hard, seal the sanctuary until we’ve resolved the situation on Chiron IV.’

  ‘Captain,’ Bra’hiv cautioned,’ ‘I can assure you that if we seal the civilians in we’ll have a full-blown riot on our hands. They’re virtually threatening to down-tools as it is. Meyanna advised that we let them know where the Devlamine farm is and allow them to destroy it.’

  Idris nodded, his wife’s idea both fair and shrewd. Far from being redundant passengers aboard Atlantia, the civilians managed the farmland and growing sectors of the sanctuary, where all of the ship’s food came from as well as managing the water and air recycling plants which were attached to the sanctuary. Almost a third of the civilians represented professional and essential members of Atlantia’s crew: engineers, weapons experts, surgeons and technicians whose families lived in the sanctuary and who would have a say in the matter if those families were sealed in without a choice in the matter.

  ‘Do it, and give them a voice too,’ Idris replied with a heavy sigh. ‘We need a new Councillor to speak for them.’

  ‘Fine. Who?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the captain said. ‘Let them decide, call a vote or something but make sure it’s somebody whom we can trust too. I don’t want a repeat of Councillor Hevel’s attempted mutiny.’

  ‘Speaking of people we can trust,’ Bra’hiv said, ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you.’

  ‘About whom?’ the captain asked. ‘Is Qayin up to no good again?’

  ‘Not Qayin, as far as I know anyway,’ Bra’hiv said as they walked, ‘I was actually hoping to have a word about…’

  ‘Captain!’

  Idris looked up as Mikhain dashed around the corner toward them.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Salim is back in touch,’ Mikhain replied and cast a brief glance at Bra’hiv. ‘He wants to speak to the captain.’

  ‘Where’s Andaim?’

  ‘On his way,’ Mikhain replied breathlessly. ‘We should be there to see what Salim has to say.’

  Idris followed Mikhain toward the bridge, Bra’hiv still by his side.

  ‘Who was it you wanted to talk about?’ Idris asked.

  The general shook his head, one eye on the XO as they walked. ‘It’s not important right now. Let’s deal with Salim first.’

  Idris followed Mikhain onto the bridge, the entire command crew snapping to attention. Ahead, he could see Andaim already standing on the command platform as Idris and Bra’hiv moved out of sight to one side of the viewing panel.

  Andaim looked at Idris, his features calm and composed. Idris tried to look encouraging as Andaim straightened his uniform and nodded at the communications officer, Lael.

  ‘Open the link,’ Andaim said.

  The screen flickered and then Salim’s face appeared, his oily features twisted into a slick smile as he looked out at them. Beside his face was that of Evelyn, her elegant, almost elfin features pinched with a mixture of concern and anger, her eyelids flickering and her jaw tense. Against her throat was a wicked, highly polished blade held in Salim’s podgy hand. Idris saw that she was no longer wearing her uniform and that her bare shoulders were draped with a thin silken gown. She looked pale, almost ill.

  ‘Salim,’ Andaim said, breaking through his consternation at seeing Evelyn’s plight and taking the opportunity to speak first in an attempt to control the conversation. ‘You’ve fixed your screen.’

  ‘Be quiet and listen,’ Salim snapped. ‘The Devlamine, where is it?’

  ‘The deadline you gave us is not yet up so we’re still…’

  ‘I’ve changed the deadline,’ Salim growled. ‘You’ve got an hour or your beautiful friend here will find herself headless and floating in Chiron’s oceans. I’ve heard that the water is getting quite warm these days.’

  Andaim swallowed and Idris saw the CAG’s jaw tense up and his fists clench by his side. The fighter pilot’s affection for the fiery and unpredictable Evelyn was virtually common knowledge on the bridge, even though th
e CAG had never spoken of it and Evelyn had never acknowledged it either. Seeing her under imminent threat of death would be precisely the kind of thing that might send Andaim into the dangerous realms of recklessness.

  ‘That would not help either of our causes,’ Andaim replied, keeping his voice calm. ‘There is no need for bloodshed – you’ll get your Devlamine. We have no desire to keep it on board anyway.’

  ‘Good,’ Salim sneered. ‘Once the Devlamine is here, we will discuss your terms of surrender.’

  ‘Our what?’

  ‘You heard,’ Salim added. ‘You don’t think for a moment that anybody here believes you’ll just abandon your own people to us do you? Your friend Evelyn here has made that quite clear. I give you the chance now to surrender your vessel to us and be boarded, or I’ll execute every last hostage right here and now.’

  Andaim’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘If you execute every last hostage there will be nothing to stop us from bombing you out of existence, Salim.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare take the chance,’ Salim uttered. ‘I know you people, and you take a moralistic delight in sacrificing everything just to save a single life, poor bleeding-heart liberals every one of you.’

  Andaim smiled, his features cold now.

  ‘But for the chance to blast a pirate’s lair into boiling atoms?’ the CAG replied rhetorically. ‘I’d have to think long and hard about it.’

  Evelyn’s eyelids fluttered again in surprise. Idris stared at Evelyn, her green eyes flashing on the viewing panel, and he felt his heart leap.

  ‘Think all you like,’ Salim snapped. ‘But if you’re not down here in the next hour, with Devlamine and ready to receive guests, I’ll kill every one of them and show it all to you.’ Salim peered sideways at Evelyn, and pressed the blade against her long, slim neck. ‘You ever cut a person’s throat, captain?’ he asked Andaim rhetorically. ‘It sounds like slicing fresh vegetables, crisp and sharp. I don’t want you to entertain the idea that I wouldn’t do it so let me show you right now, just so we’re clear.’

  Andaim’s will broke and he stepped toward the viewing panel, one arm reaching out in desperation.

  ‘No, stop!’

  Salim smiled, his eyes gleaming with malice. ‘One hour, captain.’

  The viewing panel closed as the pirate cut the communications link, and Andaim let out a breath as his shoulders sagged and he turned to Idris.

  ‘Damn it, I lost us time,’ he said.

  Idris stepped up onto the command platform and he rested a firm hand on the CAG’s shoulder.

  ‘But you gained us a miracle,’ he replied, and turned to Mikhain. ‘Did you see it?’

  ‘Just,’ the XO replied, ‘but I didn’t get the full message.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Andaim asked.

  ‘Remember when Atlantia Five was taken over by Qayin’s gang?’ the captain asked him. ‘Evelyn had her mask on then, but she managed to send us a signal letting us know how many hostages Qayin’s gang were holding in the prison.’

  ‘Sure,’ Andaim said uncertainly, and then he got it. ‘Her eyes!’

  ‘Signals coding,’ Idris grinned. ‘She was messaging us. XO, we have a new mission.’

  ‘What is it?’ Mikhain asked.

  ‘To recover the Colonial frigate Arcadia from Salim Phaeon,’ he announced loudly enough for the entire bridge to hear. ‘She’s down there in dry dock and Evelyn’s let us know that she’s not under her own power. Salim has generators. If Kordaz manages to blow those generators, we can take the compound and Arcadia for ourselves!’

  Mikhain stared at the captain in disbelief. ‘We cannot assault their compound, they have hostages, and we can’t know what Kordaz will do!’

  ‘What we cannot do is miss this opportunity,’ the captain corrected the XO. ‘If we don’t take it, we may never get another chance.’

  ‘If it fails, we’ll double our losses!’ Mikhain gasped.

  ‘No gain without risk,’ the captain agreed. ‘But to double our strength is an opportunity too great to miss, Mikhain. Agreed?’

  The XO stared at the captain for a long beat.

  ‘Agreed, captain’ he replied, and then turned and marched off the bridge.

  ***

  XXVIII

  Mikhain strode down through Atlantia’s ‘tween decks, Corporal Djimon at his side as they headed toward one of the most secure sections of the ship. The War Room, a second bridge concealed deep inside the hull, was used in time of emergency to continue operating the ship’s defences when the outer hull had been breached or the bridge compromised.

  Mikhain led the way, the number of personnel around them diminishing with every step, the ship still on night detail and a smaller watch. Mikhain reached the War Room and paused by the main access doors. He listened, the giant Marine behind him remaining silent. No sound emanated from beyond the corridor they occupied, this part of the ship close to deserted at this hour.

  ‘Give me the holopass,’ Mikhain ordered.

  Djimon silently obeyed, then stood with his plasma rifle at port-arms as Mikhain reached up to a panel on the wall and entered his personal security details and pass codes. One of only four people aboard with the ability to access the War Room when the Atlantia was not on battle readiness, Mikhain knew that he would have to act fast and then make every effort to cover his tracks. The panel beeped, and Mikhain held up the holopass.

  A complex, multi-layered security pass issued to all officers and non-commissioned officers aboard ship, as well as the ship’s senior physicians, a holopass both enabled access to restricted areas and also recorded the name of the person who had done so. The holopass bore the name and image of Sergeant Qayin.

  ‘Was it difficult to obtain?’ Mikhain asked.

  ‘No,’ Djimon replied. ‘He is on duty, but I don’t know where or what he’s doing. Hurry, I’ll have to return it and fast. As soon as I find him I want to track him until he reveals what he’s been doing.’

  Mikhain swept the holopass across the door’s scanners and the War Room’s doors opened. Mikhain turned and handed the pass back to Djimon.

  ‘Get this back where it belongs, as fast as you can, and then find Qayin.’

  Djimon nodded, took the pass and began marching back toward the barracks.

  Mikhain entered the War Room and hurried to the communications station, a more compact version of the one on the main bridge manned by Lael. Mikhain eased around to the front of the station and watched the screens, observing Lael’s inputs and monitoring her duties.

  He activated the War Room’s veiling systems, designed to prevent boarders who had accessed the bridge from figuring out what was happening in the War Room. The dual-operation system allowed officers in the War Room to control the ship, whereas invaders on the bridge would have little or no idea of their presence.

  Mikhain accessed a free comms channel and opened a link on a new frequency. For a moment nothing happened, and then a screen opposite him flickered into life and a podgy, oily face stared out at him with a bleary, sleepy expression. A gloomy private quarters was visible in the low light behind him, and what looked like a hybrid woman slumbered alongside Salim.

  ‘Whp the hell are you and what do you want?’ Salim uttered.

  Mikhain realised that he was gripping the controls tightly as he spoke.

  ‘To resolve our differences in a manner that prevents any further loss of life.’

  ‘Get lost,’ Salim murmured and moved to shut off the link.

  ‘You’re being deceived.’

  Salim froze in motion, his glistening black eyes staring at Mikhain. ‘By whom?’

  ‘By the captain of this ship,’ Mikhain replied, ‘who in my opinion is putting lives in danger.’

  Salim’s eyes narrowed and he straightened up. ‘You’re the Executive Officer,’ he noted Mikhain’s shoulder insignia. ‘What’s happened? Finally got upset that your captain is half your age?’

  Mikhain let a slow smile spread across h
is features. ‘The captain is almost as old as I am.’

  Salim raised an eyebrow. ‘If so, he’s got far better genes and….’ Salim broke off for a moment. ‘Andaim is not the Atlantia’s captain?’

  ‘No,’ Mikhain replied. ‘You need to hear what I have to say.’

  ‘Who is the captain?’

  ‘All in good time,’ Mikhain snapped. ‘I want guarantees first.’

  ‘Guarantees of what?’

  *

  The vast lower hull of the frigate cast a deep shadow over the valley, the scarred and dirty belly of the spaceship sitting above where the solid ground had been cut away to provide support for the immense braces that held her in place.

  Kordaz was no engineer, but as he crouched in the blackness beneath the huge ship he was forced to marvel at how Salim Phaeon and his ragtag group of pirates and slaves had constructed such an incredible dock. Each of the braces probably weighed a thousand tonnes, shaped from steel with the huge load-bearing ovals cast between them that must have taken hundreds of men weeks to construct. Ten braces in all cradled the vast ship, and countless more lengths of double-coiled steel cable kept the ship tethered in place, attached to both the upper hull and massive braces far out across the landscape.

  The captors of the great Colonial vessel had been smart enough to place the frigate facing into the wind that gusted almost permanently off the churning ocean. Although Kordaz knew that the frigate was not capable of natural atmospheric flight, its ion engines, anti-gravity gyroscopes and directional thrusters were more than powerful enough when combined to allow for a controlled descent and landing on a suitable planetary surface.

  Kordaz wondered briefly how the pirates could have achieved such a feat, and could only assume that many of the ship’s crew now made up the labourers striving to repair the damage to the hull and prepare the ship for space flight. He figured that if the crew were still alive, then Salim was not entirely unable to use the frigate effectively as a warship. If he were allowed to get her into orbit, he could represent a real threat to the Atlantia. Then again, if Captain Sansin were to double his strength with a second frigate, and then continued on his planned path to Wraiythe… Kordaz forced the thought from his mind and focused instead on the task ahead.