The Ashes of Worlds

Tasia stood with Robb in the admin dome, surrounded by monitor screens and communications links set up to monitor the everyday activity of the shipyards. Practically every screen flashed red. Dozens of administrators scrambled to shut down docks, laboratories, and fabrication plants, calling all hands to emergency shelters.

Lanyan was not going to be reasonable, despite Robb’s foolish optimism. “General, please respond. You are attacking civilian targets. Cease fire! These facilities are no threat to you.”

As a second wave of jazer strikes rippled across a line of ore asteroids, Tasia gave a rude snort. “Shizz, Brindle, did you really think he’d just turn around and run away from your biting criticism?”

Robb switched off the communications link, frowning in disappointment. “No, but it made me feel better to vent a little steam.”

“I’d rather vent some exhaust ports. The manifest says we’ve got two cargo vessels in the main bay, newly upgraded to warship status. How about I take one and you take the other?”

“Good enough.”

“And who gave you the rank of Commodore, anyway?”

He brushed his shoulder, as if imagining the immaculate braid there. “I made it up. I didn’t suppose you’d complain — especially since you’re above me in rank.”

“Hell of a way to run a military,” Tasia said as they ran out into the rock-walled corridors. Lanyan’s demand for surrender continued on a repeating loop over the loudspeakers until one disgusted clan engineer disconnected the intercom wires and shut off the blowhard’s words.

They reached the docking bay, where volunteer fighters rushed aboard the two battleships, ready to go as soon as somebody took command. Both upgraded vessels were blocky with add-on modules, but lack of streamlining didn’t matter in space, and no one could complain about the ships’ efficiency.

She gave Robb a quick kiss as they separated — “For luck,” she said — then raced toward the ship on the left.

Three scruffy-looking Roamer men and a middle-aged woman had already jumped to the available consoles. Tasia settled into the captain’s chair, shouted for her makeshift crew to hurry through the start-up procedures. Since this ship had a standard set of controls, most Roamers could run any station. As they completed their launch checklist, they squabbled over who would get the chance to operate the new weapons.

With Brindle’s ship right at her side, Tasia accelerated out of the docking bay. She snapped at the members of her crew. “There’ll be plenty of Eddies to shoot at, so get your act together before we hit the targeting zone!”

The Roamers quickly decided on positions, settled into their seats, and coordinated their functions mere seconds before Tasia began her first attack run.

The EDF raiders continued to pummel the heart of the shipyards, blasting any structure they could find. Many Roamer ships had already rallied to the defense of Osquivel. The pilots had no discipline, but plenty of newly installed armaments, and they played havoc with the regimented EDF battle group. Sadly, though, Lanyan’s raiders were much more practiced at blasting things.

“This is damned disappointing. I really would have preferred to fight theKlikiss today,” Tasia transmitted to Robb as the ships swooped after the attacking EDF vessels. Robb was obviously uneasy at the prospect of blasting his former comrades in the EDF, so she added, “We didn’t ask for this, Brindle. They came gunning forus.”

The rings of Osquivel had turned into a shooting gallery. With a sickening feeling Tasia remembered an earlier battle here, when all the EDF ships had joined in a massive assault against the hydrogues. That battle had been an utter disaster for the forces of humanity.

Tasia and Robb added their two ships to the flurry of harassing fire, trying to deflect the EDF march against the most heavily populated facilities. As she had promised her crew, they all had plenty of targets to choose from.

With a precise shot, Tasia took out a quad bank of jazer cannons mounted on theGoliath ’s bow. Before she could pat herself on the back, though, three Mantas began to concentrate their fire on her ship. The shields barely withstood the barrage, and she had to do some fancy flying to get out of range.

When her starboard engine was damaged, Tasia knew they were in deep trouble. Robb gallantly tried to come to her rescue, drawing fire, but he, too, spun out of control, leaking gases from a ruptured tank.

Then, rising from the planet’s tenuous limb came another group of giant battleships — a Juggernaut and ten Mantas, all sporting fresh Confederation insignia on their hulls, outnumbering and outgunning General Lanyan.

“Sorry we’re late to the party.” Admiral Willis’s jazers fired a widespread pattern long before they came into range, purely to show off. “Wasn’t Rhejak enough humiliation for you, General Lanyan? Ready for more so soon?”

Robb said, “What took you so long, Admiral? We’ve been busy for an hour!”

“Exactly how fast do you think I can disengage eleven ships from spacedock?”

“Roamers could have done it faster,” Tasia said aloud to her grinning crew, but did not broadcast the comment.

Admiral Willis raised her voice over the command channel. “General Lanyan, how about we use the same surrender terms you proposed a few minutes ago? I assume you considered them to be fair and reasonable.”

Her battle group raced in to join the Roamer defenders, all of whom redoubled their attacks. Her Juggernaut matched the General’s, and the rest of the outnumbered EDF ships were unable to recover from their surprise.

After a moment of tense standoff, Lanyan’s ships all turned about and exited from the Osquivel system in an embarrassing retreat. He didn’t even bother to transmit a response.

44

Sullivan Gold

After being released from the Ildiran Empire, Sullivan Gold had hoped for a quiet retirement with his family on Earth. He had run a Hansa cloud harvester, survived a massive attack by hydrogue warglobes, rescued Ildiran skyminers, and endured a lengthy and unfair detention in Mijistra before finally going home. He deserved a little bit of time to himself.

But Chairman Wenceslas had other ideas.

Sullivan had been with Lydia and the extended family for two weeks. Wanting to live in peace for a change, he had made no announcement of his homecoming, asked for no media attention. Nor had he made a point of reporting to the Chairman. That turned out to be a mistake.

A group of paramilitary troops dressed in unfamiliar uniforms pounded on the door of his city townhouse. A cinnamon-haired female officer stood with four burly, well-armed men. She would have been pretty, Sullivan thought, if the hard edges of her features had been sanded smooth. The woman compared his face to an image projected on a palmscreen. “Are you Sullivan Gold?”