Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades (14 page)

At a glance, Minh-Chu
could see several ships breaking away from the outer perimeter orbit
of the station towards them. The Torano’s captain had drawn some
attention with his appeal.

A beam weapon lashed
out at Minh-Chu’s fighter, trying to carve a line across his
cockpit with heat, light, and energized particles. His shields
absorbed the hit, but were down to twenty-one percent from a full
charge. Minh-Chu hit the trigger and released a missile that crossed
the distance between him and the shuttle in less than three seconds.
The resulting explosion registered as a hazard-level-event on their
navigation and tactical screens, a reading that was made to warn even
the sternest of ships away from something that could damage anything.

“Okay, so that works,
holy crap…” Joyboy said in wonder.

By the time he finished
talking, the light shields on Minh-Chu’s suit and cockpit turned
themselves back down, and what was left of the shuttle came into
view. The engine compartment shielding was a blasted mess, wide open
in many places where the heat of the explosion burned metal away. The
rest of the ship was twisted and broken. The radiation levels were
surprisingly low, but there was nothing but scrap left. “Singe,
lead a defence on the cargo train. If anyone comes near it, turn them
away.”

“Aye,” Singe
replied. “But I think your demonstration was enough to frighten
most people off, Ronin. The ships that were breaking orbit are
heading back.”

Minh-Chu confirmed what
she was saying with a glance. “Good. Joyboy, you’re with me.
We’re going to see if the Warlord needs our help.”

“I’m getting
nothing but squigglies and squeaks from their area – looks like the
Torano is jamming sensors,” Joyboy said as he fired his thrusters
to keep up with Minh-Chu. “Why would they do that if they’re in
trouble?”

“They wouldn’t,”
Minh-Chu said. “They would do that if they’re using weaponry they
don’t want anyone to know they have. That may be why this mission
has been full of surprises. This captain is good at keeping his
tricks a secret. Stay alert, our scanning range is getting shorter as
we get closer to the jammers.”

“Aye,” Joyboy
replied.

A wall of flak appeared
on sensors too close for them to evade or counter, and Minh-Chu’s
shields took the damage. He set them to recharge at the fastest
available pace, tasking the miniature fusion reactors to their limit.
He activated his last accumulator missile, starting its charge cycle,
and ordered his fighter’s power systems to sap the energy it was
generating. His shields would be recharged in less than three
seconds, but if he was hit too hard in the wrong place before he
could deactivate the accumulator missile, he’d go off like a bomb.

“Okay, there’s
something serious going on over here,” Joyboy said.

Minh-Chu caught sight
of a flash in the distance and zoomed in. The lower-aft side of the
Warlord had just taken damage from an explosion so hot that its
plating still glowed white. That entire section of its launchers
would be out of commission, reducing its firepower.

“All right, lock on
to the Torano as best as you can,” Minh-Chu said. “And fire
everything in bursts. Strafe so we have a chance at giving them the
impression that the whole wing is here.”

“You got it, Ronin,”
Joyboy replied.

As Minh-Chu and Joyboy
started their run, they watched the Warlord fighting to turn towards
the Torano in an attempt to line up their main rail cannons at the
front of the ship, but the Torano’s pilot was too good to let it
happen. The so-called hauler thrust out of the way, so she remained
in the Warlord’s side firing arc, where three gunnery turrets
continued to hammer at the Torano. From what Minh-Chu could see, the
Torano’s shields were depleted, her emitters were damaged, and the
hull was beginning to take direct hits.

Minh-Chu deactivated
the accumulator missile charging in his missile rack as his shields
recharged to ninety-seven percent and breathed a sigh of relief when
the antimatter reaction stopped and the power levels stabilized. His
fighter would continue to feed off the power in the death-dealing
missile’s capacitors until there was nothing left.

Minh-Chu could see the
Warlord’s shields were depleted on the port side. Beam weapons
fired at the vulnerable sections of the Warlord’s hull in bursts,
trying to weaken and superheat sections of the ship until its
integrity failed. The strain on the ergranian metal was intense, and
the normally resilient material was stressed past its limit in more
than one spot. Some of the metal had been rendered inert, its
regenerative qualities beyond recovery. The beam weapons were sawing
into the ship at those points whenever they could get a clean shot at
them.

“Missiles, Ronin,”
Joyboy said. “We’ve got to hit the Torano’s main thrusters from
the other side with missiles.”

“Absolutely,”
Minh-Chu said. “They’re not falling for our distraction.”

The pair of Uriel
fighters taxed their thrusters to the limit, blasting around the
engagement so they could fire on the Torano’s main thrusters, a
bank of pivoting barrier engines. Whoever was manning the weaponry on
the enemy ship was no amateur. Two medium cannons fired rapidly, and
they were both caught by several high-energy shots before they could
evade. “Their sensors are jammed too, they’re firing using visual
only,” Minh-Chu said. “Use your computer to help dodge.”

“Already on it,”
Joyboy said as his fighter took several strikes on the starboard
side, reducing his shielding to dangerous levels. He strafed
erratically until the gunner on the Torano lost his bead, then Joyboy
opened fire.

Minh-Chu followed suit
and the pair of them rained dumbfire rockets down on the Torano, a
few little spark-like pops bursting against the enemy ship as the
first of their munitions struck. When the first strikes were joined
by hundreds, the aft-port side of the vessel was shrouded in a
firestorm. “Fire all missiles at the maximum rate, we’re not
capturing this thing,” Minh-Chu said. The auto-loaders for his
missile pods roared as he switched to rapid-fire. He watched his
munitions counter from the corner of his eye, counting down from four
thousand nine hundred and thirty, to two thousand and three in the
space of seconds.

The Warlord’s
thrusters flared as it pushed away from the Torano. Using the
hard-won space from the enemy ship, they launched their own barrage.
Seven metre-wide mines burst from the bottom of the Warlord and broke
apart when they were halfway to their target, splitting into over a
hundred missiles loaded with high explosives. The Torano exploded a
second later, and when the heat cleared, her starboard side was open
to space in several places. The eighty metre long ship’s lights
were out, her power plant was exposed, her engines were extinguished,
and her weapons were silenced.

Minh-Chu waited for
their sensors to clear, and when they did, recognized a warning
immediately: the antimatter reservoir aboard the Torano was still
loaded with a dangerous amount of the material. “Distance!”
Minh-Chu said. “Get away from the Torano!”

Joyboy was already
accelerating away, as was the Warlord. They were over fifty thousand
kilometres away and circling back towards the cargo train the Torano
dropped when Minh-Chu finally felt they had enough distance. He
pulled up his rear-view screen and zoomed in on the wrecked ship. A
few escape pods were powering away from her port side. He silently
wished he could help, and hoped they got enough space between them
and the vessel before the antimatter containment failed.

“Maybe they’ll make
it,” Joyboy said. “That thing could maintain containment for
years if the reservoir’s safety systems are okay.”

Minh-Chu looked to the
escape pods; they had made it a few thousand kilometres away from the
Torano, and were gaining speed. With a flash, the Torano exploded,
and when the light cleared, there was little left of the escape
shuttles or the people inside.

“Take up positions
around the cargo train,” Minh-Chu said. “The Warlord will be
vulnerable while they hitch up and get ready to power out of the
system.”

Uncertain Turnabout

“You’re right, this
is genius,” Victor Davis said as he finished reading Mischa Konev’s
proposal. “I’m out, you’re out, but so is the whole idea of
coming to consensus. Not only that, but it’s still non-partisan and
the Defence Minister, and Military Liaison positions aren’t going
to be elected positions the first time around. It’s like this is
built to sneak us into the back door.”

“I’ll still be
Health Minister,” Iloona said, stroking her bulging middle. “So I
can propose that you both fill positions.”

“The reformation of
the government would take place after the referendum tomorrow,”
Ayan said. “This is fast, no one has time to think.”

“No, Tyra doesn’t
have time to realize that her biggest enemies on the Council won’t
be out for long. All she’ll have time to see is that we’ll be
removed from our posts,” Victor said. “Normally, I hate this
political stuff, but Mischa just dropped a bomb, and we will end up
running things our way when the smoke clears.”

“In human history, is
a voting majority of seventy percent better than consensus-based
governing?” Iloona asked.

“Consensus-based
government always has a breaking point early on,” Ayan replied. “It
was a good idea at first, when there were five people around the
table, but it’s impossible with a full room. It takes way too many
compromises to get anything passed.”

“Well, then this is
less a power play than something that has to happen regardless of our
current problems,” Iloona said. Her eyes widened for a moment, then
she looked down at her belly. “At least two of these pups agree.”

“How are you
feeling?” asked Ayan.

“Very good,” Iloona
replied. “I’m past the dangerous point of my pregnancy, and it’s
certain that I’ll have eleven in my pouch next week, if not
sooner.”

“Eleven!” Victor
said. “I thought my family was big with four brothers and sisters.”

“Alaka is not looking
forward to taking care of me while my pouch is full. He knows I’ll
expect a royal lifestyle,” Iloona said with a smile. “It's three
times larger than the average brood though, but that only speaks to
the good life here.”

“Brace yourselves, a
tribe of adorable Nafalli are about to invade from within,” Ayan
said, motioning towards Iloona’s big belly.

Iloona grabbed Ayan’s
and Lacey’s hands and put them on her stomach. Ayan could
immediately feel little beings through the soft fur, popping at the
skin with little kicks and nudges. There was some squirming too, as
it seemed that one was trying to roll over. “That’s got to be a
mad feeling,” Lacey said. “How do you sleep?”

“Oh, in winks and
naps. Birth is much easier for us than it is for humans. This is the
difficult part. I’ll sleep for a week once they’re in the pouch.
I’m only glad that we’re in a modern city. If I were home, I
might be expected to hunt.”

“With that
undercarriage?” Victor laughed. “Nafalli women must be the
toughest creatures in the galaxy.”

“Thank you,” Iloona
replied. “Back to this vote, I have one more question.”

“What’s that?”
Lacey asked.

“There are many seats
missing, such as Finance, Orbital Defence, and others. This proposes
an incomplete government.”

“There’s a
provision here that opens the government up to necessary expansions
as qualified people are nominated,” Victor replied. “It uses a
proposal and voting system that’s already in place. We could
probably get those seats set up in two weeks.”

“So we’re agreed,
then,” Ayan said. “We’re passing this.”

“Yes,” Victor
replied. “Sorry about being so pissed, I took the intent the wrong
way.”

“That was the
intention of the proposal,” Ayan replied. “I almost blew it by
reacting to the look on Tyra’s face. Now I have to look angry, and
so do you.”

“Both of you will
have to let Tyra vote first,” Iloona said. “I will vote
reluctantly.”

“All right, let’s
vote ourselves out of a job,” Victor said.

* * *

It was so good to get
away from Haven Shore for an hour or two. Ayan scheduled a meeting
with Admiral Terry Ozark McPatrick, or Oz, as she called him, just so
she could get some space from the impending referendum and everything
else on the Tamber Moon. The last consensus vote of the Council had
gone well, but she needed a break.

Ayan grinned as she saw
Oz enter the smaller observation room aboard the Triton. He returned
her smile and gave her a tight hug. “I already heard, the motion to
make Jake and his people citizens failed, and you’re out of a job.”
He unstrapped his sidearm and slung it over the edge of a sofa, then
took a seat. He looked better than ever in a thinner version of his
black vacsuit armour. He was the picture of fitness in the snug
fitting one-piece uniform, and the slashes on his cuffs marked him as
a Forward Admiral.

“It’s bad news for
them; I think we’ll be breaking away from the Carthans soon. I
think support from the British Alliance is coming. As for losing my
job, well, I’ve never felt freer. Iloona will nominate me after the
referendum tomorrow and I’ll have a slightly smaller job by the end
of the week. You should take a look at the footage from the vote,
though. The look on Tyra Kim’s face when Vince and I approved the
proposal was priceless. I doubt she’s figured out what’s really
happening.”

“I will,” Oz
replied with a smile. “Is she really that bad?”

“She must have been
in love with Liam,” Ayan replied. “She obviously blames me for
pushing him out of the solar system.”

“Well, she
shouldn’t,” Oz said. “The last few times I talked to him while
he was helping out with the Triton’s refitting plan, he could
barely look me in the eye. I even told him I don’t have to punish
him on your behalf, you wouldn’t want that, but it only shut him
down more. I think he had to leave.”