“Mahadhevan is altering vector,” the combat systems specialist reported. “Rate of closure has dropped… rate of closure has come to zero. Mahadhevan has taken up relative position just ahead of us, proceeding along the same vector toward the primary inhabited world.”
“As if he is escorting us,” Diaz said scornfully. “But he is staying just outside of our weapons range. That’s foolish. We could put on a burst of full acceleration, get him inside our missile engagement range, and launch at him before he could accelerate out of reach again.”
“Yes,” Marphissa agreed. “But Mahadhevan the man is not experienced enough in command to know that. We won’t tell him. With any luck, we won’t have to engage any of the forces of Granaile Imallye.”
“How close are we going to get to that battle cruiser?” Diaz asked.
“No closer than I have to in order to carry out a real-time conversation,” Marphissa said. “We’ll see whether Imallye contacts us before we get that close.” It would still be about fifty-nine hours before Manticore intercepted the planet along its orbit and the warships near it. Plenty of time for Imallye to hear Marphissa’s message, which, traveling at the speed of light, should arrive in about five more hours, and send a reply, which would take almost five hours on top of that to be received by Marphissa. Light was very fast, but in the immense distances of space it often felt very slow as well.
It actually took nearly twelve hours before Imallye’s reply came in. In the interim, Marphissa had worked for some hours, ate, slept, had a breakfast, then returned to the bridge to work on some more of what was still called “paperwork” even though little of it was ever printed out on paper.
Imallye, sprawled in the fleet command seat on the battle cruiser, wasn’t wearing a cast-off Syndicate CEO’s suit. She was in a skin suit meant to be worn under battle armor, the suit’s dull, black shade set off by gold insignia that glittered at her neck and on her sleeves. A large sidearm in a worn-looking holster was on one hip. A big, standard-issue Syndicate close-combat knife was sheathed on her other hip. It was, Marphissa had to admit, a very effective image.
“I have received your message, Kommodor Marphissa,” Imallye said without any indication of how she felt about the warning it contained. “Proceed to a rendezvous with my flagship Vengeance so we can conduct a real-time conversation about these critical matters.” Imallye paused, then smiled. “Please proceed. We will speak again when you are less than one light minute from Vengeance. Imallye, out.”
“Vengeance?” Diaz said. “That’s not a very reassuring name for a battle cruiser.”
“No.” Marphissa called up a still from the message and studied Imallye. “What do you think of her?”
“She looks… strong,” Diaz said. “Confident. Powerful. Dangerous. Overtly so.”
“Yes,” Marphissa agreed. “It’s a show, but a very good one. That skin suit she’s wearing. Maybe Imallye is former Syndicate ground forces. No one else wears those.”
“Vipers do.”
“Mutinous workers following a former viper? I don’t think so. They would rip her into pieces no matter how dangerous she looked.” Marphissa scowled at the image. “What’s her game? How did she get her hands on that battle cruiser? I admit to being worried about getting too close to that warship, but we need to find out more about Imallye. I need to talk to her, and I am certain if we try to talk again from any distance farther out than one light minute, she will refuse to answer.”
“Notice what we can see of the bridge of the Vengeance?” Diaz added. “It looks neat and well kept. The bridge of Mahadhevan had some signs of sloppiness, but what is visible inside Vengeance shows a tight ship.”
“She knows her business,” Marphissa agreed. “Let’s hope she is willing to work with President Iceni. I have no doubt that Kapitan Kontos and Pele could take apart Vengeance, but Pele might take a lot of damage in the process. We couldn’t afford that, not with both the Syndicate and the enigmas to worry about.”
She could not share with Diaz the confidential words of President Iceni before Manticore had left Midway. Marphissa had replayed that private message again just a few hours ago, studying the somber expression on Iceni’s face as she spoke. “Kommodor, be wary of Imallye. What she has accomplished already indicates that Imallye is both resourceful and driven. She could be an important ally. Or an implacable enemy. Do all you can to convince her of the need to work together against the enigma threat to this region of space. But just because she is an enemy of the Syndicate does not mean that she will be a friend to us. General Drakon and I are former CEOs, and if Imallye is driven by a desire for reprisal against senior Syndicate officials, our prior status may be all she cares about.”
In light of that warning, the name of Imallye’s battle cruiser, the Vengeance, felt even more worrisome.
Point two light speed worked out to about sixty thousand kilometers per second, an almost unimaginably fast velocity for humans to contemplate. But the distance to cover to reach the primary inhabited planet along its orbit was about six light hours, which came to nearly six and a half billion kilometers. A distance so great that even light required six hours to make the journey did not quickly yield to velocities measured in mere thousands of kilometers.
And so it was nearly two and a half days later that Manticore reached the vicinity of the planet, swooping in from the outer star system on a curving path that intercepted the world as it raced along its orbit about the star Moorea at a piddling twenty-eight kilometers per second.
“I want us brought into an orbit exactly fifty-nine light seconds from Imallye’s battle cruiser Vengeance,” Marphissa directed. “Make certain we are at a dead stop relative to Vengeance. Do not use more than seventy-five percent power on your main propulsion when braking. I want to conceal our maximum capability.”
Manticore’s automated maneuvering systems could handle that kind of challenge fairly easily. Pivoting under the push of thrusters so that her bow faced backward and her main propulsion forward along their path, Manticore began firing her main propulsion, fighting momentum and slowing her progress through space. The ship’s inertial dampers ran their stress readings up toward the red danger zones, but stayed well out of trouble as the heavy cruiser braked.
It took a while to kill such immense velocity, but eventually Diaz smiled triumphantly as Manticore came to a halt relative to Vengeance. Both ships were still moving through space along their orbits, but their vectors matched exactly, so they were apparently sitting still compared to each other. “Exactly fifty-nine light seconds from Vengeance, Kommodor,” he announced.
“Thank you, Kapitan,” Marphissa said. “Well done. Now, let us see what Granaile Imallye will say to us.”
This time, Marphissa sat straight and tried to look as professional as possible. She couldn’t match the informal deadliness of Imallye’s outfit and posture, and so did not even try. Imallye would see that Midway’s Kommodor was no slacker.
“Honored Granaile Imallye,” Marphissa began, “I have come to Moorea on orders from President Iceni of the Free and Independent Midway Star System. I am to convey to you and everyone else the dangers posed by our discovery that the alien enigma species has developed enough range on their jump drives to reach Iwa Star System directly. I am also to offer our willingness to reach peace agreements, trade agreements, and even mutual defense agreements with the star systems under your control.”