The artemis trilogy, p.16
The Artemis Trilogy, page 16
Novikova opened her toolbox and grabbed a micro-shifter to perform some routine maintenance on the backup life-support relays. She crawled on her hands and knees and opened the compartment beneath her feet, shining a flashlight inside to check it over.
“Aren’t you done yet?”
She looked up to the stern features of Ringwood’s captain. While there wasn’t the customary smirk on Estrada’s face one would imagine of someone having a joke, she knew the skipper was only kidding with her.
“I’m a perfectionist,” Novikova said, pulling out the first relay to examine it. “Anyway, you know what it’s like when I come back here.”
“Yes, but you’ve been especially busy this time around. I gather there’s something on your mind.”
She opened the casing of the relay and inspected its insides. “When did you suddenly become so wise?”
“I know my crew.” He leaned on the engine room’s primary workstation. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Hand me that micro-connector, will you?” She pointed at it, and Estrada passed it to her. “I suppose I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. On board the Ringwood, we’re so sheltered to what’s going on out there. The colonies. The war. The people fighting for us.”
“I can understand that. But I hope you’re not considering leaving me like my helmsman has.”
Novikova chuckled. “Speer will be back.”
“That’s if he doesn’t get himself killed.” Estrada paced toward the other side of the engine room, where he ran a finger over a panel, finding not so much as a single speck of dust. “The Ringwood just wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks.” Novikova ensured all the connections were intact inside the relay and closed it, putting it back in its rightful spot. She stood and wiped her hands with a rag. “But what happens when this is all over?”
“Hmm?”
“The war, I mean. If the rebellion fails—”
Estrada raised his hand to interject. “One reason I decided to work off colony was because of the freedoms we have out here. There’s not an empire large enough that can stop me from enjoying that.”
“You seem awfully certain.”
“I have to be. If there’s even a thought I lose this…” He gestured round the engine room and walked toward her. “I might as well be dead.”
“Perhaps we should both join the cause before it’s too late.” Novikova danced her fingers across the workstation, and the backup relays all came up green, activating at one hundred percent capacity.
“You’re probably right.” Estrada made his way to the door and turned just before exiting the engine room. “Seriously, though, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, you know where my door is.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Bridge to Captain Estrada,” the sound of Jed Grayson’s voice from the bridge belted through the ship’s intercom.
Estrada pressed the keypad panel beside the door. “Yes, Jeddy?”
“We’re picking up contacts on our scopes. Lots of them.”
Estrada’s eyebrows rose, and he rushed out. Novikova followed, and they hurried to the bridge to find Grayson standing by the scopes. They glanced down at the scans, and Novikova shared a concerned look with her skipper at the huge number of bogeys heading in their direction.
“Can you get an ID on them?” Estrada asked Grayson.
The younger man pressed in a series of commands on the console and brought up their specifications. “No doubt about it, they’re Arcadian vessels. And they’re in a hurry.”
The seconds turned into minutes, and the fleet of Arcadian ships closed. The Ringwood’s bulkheads shook from the wash of its enormous hyperwarp disturbance as if an old wooden ship being passed on the water by a much faster craft.
Novikova breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t their intended target, but it was quickly replaced with the mystery of what the Arcadians’ real intentions were. “We haven’t seen a fleet that large in this region before.”
“Reports from the home office have the Arcadians pushing the front lines farther into the Rim,” Estrada said. “It was just a matter of time.”
“It would seem the war has finally come to us. What’s their heading?”
Grayson brought up an expanded star chart of the area and overlaid the readings from the scopes. “There’s little of importance out here. Going by this, they’re making a beeline for the Olarus nebula.”
“The Olarus nebula? It’s nothing more than a five-light-year-wide pocket of gas.” Novikova peered through the viewport beyond the helm console and wondered what could be possibly out there? What could be more important than an ORC shipping yard, a surface outpost, or an orbital installation?
Whatever the answer, she knew she wouldn’t like it.
THIRTY-ONE
Logan, Vernon, and Speer stepped into what Fox described as the command center of the rebellion. The internal facility was circular in shape and three levels high, with railings surrounding the upper levels for safety. Workstations adorned the walls, while a dedicated console operator manned each one.
On the lower level, a huge bank of consoles faced an enormous holographic representation of the Outer Rim. It contained star systems stretching over hundreds of light-years. Different colored dots portrayed the colony worlds, along with fleet movements and squadrons of both the ORC and the Arcadians.
“This is an up-to-date image of the Rim, with scans coming in from every scope aboard every ship and every facility in the fleet.” Fox motioned at the hologram. “Our best engineers developed a way to network all the data and channel it directly to us inside this nebula.”
He approached a workstation and leaned over a young officer, prodding at the controls. The intergalactic map disappeared, and an image of the Wofine Star System came to life. “These images come from ORC vessels on patrol at the border. This was how we masterminded the attack on Extrapa Station while the Arcadians had their guard down.”
“It’s a shame they weren’t able to detect the hidden fighter squadron deployed to the outpost,” Logan said.
Fox frowned and returned the hologram to its default setting. “Unfortunately, the technology has its limitations. There’s always the risk in our line of work. We wouldn’t have got to the position we’re in now without taking those risks.”
Speer put his hands on his hips and marveled at the holographic display. “This is quite the piece of hardware.”
“It keeps us in the game. We have to do everything we can to stay one step ahead of the Empire.” Fox moved on, and they followed him around the central hub of workstations. “Everyone you see sitting here is collating information from every part of the Outer Rim. From our colonies, our ships, and intelligence operatives. As you know, we’re hopelessly outmanned and outgunned. The only chance we have to win this war is by using our most valuable resource—our wits.”
He waved his hand over the command center. “However, as good as this is, to the men, women, and children back on the colonies toiling on the farms, killing themselves in the mines and doing their utmost to build our next ships and fighters, its people like you, Mister Logan, who are at the heart of how we can win this war. You’re the pinnacle of hope we all need. Without a high level of morale, the war is as good as over. You’re a symbol of what we represent.”
“I think you’re putting me up on too high of a pedestal,” Logan said, unable to hide his embarrassment.
“Never dispute your importance to this rebellion, Mister Logan. There are those in the colonies who havn’t yet risen to our cause. When they see that the very best of the Empire can be defeated, they will finally take the leap.” Fox edged closer to him. “I won’t beat around the bush with you. Even with all this, and all the victories won under the banner of the ORC, we’re still woefully underprepared for this fight. The manpower and resources the Arcadian Empire have are vast. It should be impossible for them to lose this war. That’s why we have to use everything at our disposal to ensure our survival.”
Logan suddenly felt the entire rebellion press down on his shoulders. In one sense it was overwhelming, but in another he took comfort that there was some importance to his existence away from being a gambling barfly on Cantabria Colony.
“Come, let me show you to our fighter construction facility.” Fox put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and led the others in the direction of the exit.
“Fox!”
They all turned to Hauser, hurrying toward them.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I need to see you for a moment,” she said, with a crooked brow.
“Okay.” Fox eyed the others. “You must excuse me. One of my assistants will show you the construction facility. Reyes, get over here!”
A younger man stopped what he was doing on the second level and came down to meet them.
“Anything we can help with?” Vernon asked.
Hauser shook her head. “Matters for the leadership.”
With that, Reyes escorted them from the command center and into the corridor.
Fox waited for Vernon and the two other men to leave through the door and focused his attention on Hauser. “What’s going on?”
“Trouble.” She led him to one of the workstations surrounding the enormous hologram and zoomed in on an image at the exterior of the Olarus Nebula. Dropping from hyperwarp, a huge fleet of Arcadian vessels appeared beyond the outer boundary.
Fox stared at the image and then looked to the door where Vernon, Logan, and Speer had departed. “How’s this possible?”
“It shouldn’t be.” Hauser crossed her arms. “Whenever we bring someone to this base, we take every step to ensure that they aren’t tracked. We have random patrols and hidden scopes in the outer lying star systems that track movements from any other craft. There’s no way they could’ve been traced here.”
“Were any communications sent from the Corina when they arrived at Olarus?”
“No. They followed our protocols to the letter. I know how much you trust Vernon, but if there’s even the remotest chance that he could’ve breached our—”
“Are you calling him a traitor?”
“No,” Hauser fired back. “But we need to examine all possibilities.”
Fox stroked his chin. “Have his ship searched. Make sure it’s done on the down low.”
Hauser nodded and clicked her fingers at the trio of infantrymen near the door. The grunts moved out, and Fox took a seat in a spare chair.
“Arcadian reconnaissance patrols have passed this nebula before,” he said. “Several times, in fact, since the beginning of the war. This could be another attempt—”
“Sir!”
The pair peered through the hologram at one of the workstation operators on the other side of the command center.
“Look!” the young officer yelled, pointing at the holographic map where the Arcadian fleet had begun moving into the nebula through the outer layer.
Fox’s stomach clenched. “Are those ships entering—”
“The exact same position the Corina did?” Hauser double-checked the readings. “Yes, they are.”
Fox swiveled in his seat and stood. “Send out a fleetwide alert to all ships and deploy our fighters from the surface.”
Hauser nodded, rushing over to the operator on the far side of the command center. Klaxons blared, and a red illumination bathed the three-level facility. She walked back over to him and opened her mouth to speak.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Fox said.
“Well?” Hauser said.
He sighed. “Take care of it.”
The scale of the fighter craft construction facility was grand, especially for one built into the underground of a rogue planet at the heart of a nebula. Logan had learned while the ORC used the shipbuilding facilities they’d seized at the beginning of the war, they’d had to build some of their own. This was one they certainly wouldn’t have accounted for.
“Here is the latest fighter we’re producing.” Reyes pointed at the nearest craft. To anyone it would’ve looked like any garden variety ORC fighter, but Logan noticed some slight differences.
“We’ve fitted them out with more maneuvering jets and a capacity to carry an extra missile on each wing,” Reyes continued. “Using a new lightweight material for the hull, we’ve also been able to increase the maneuverability by fifteen percent.”
Logan went up to the wing and touched its surface, which had a distinctly smoother feel, even slipperier than the standard alloy of the normal fighter.
“Our pilots have already come across some fighters in the Arcadian fleet that the Empire have designated their new generation craft.” Reyes led them onward through the facility. “With the modifications we’ve made, we believe that we’ll be able to at least fight with them on an even keel.”
“I bet you had nothing like that in your day,” Logan quipped to Vernon.
The old man grunted, admiring the crafts himself. Before Reyes could say anything else, the commbud in his ear turned green. “This is Reyes, go ahead,” he said to someone on the other end of the channel. “I see. Okay, very well.”
Out of nowhere, three ORC infantrymen appeared with their rifles pointed at Logan, Vernon, and Speer.
“What’s going on here?” Vernon asked.
“I’ve been given orders to detain you,” Reyes informed them.
“Detain us? Why?”
“Under suspicion of treason.”
“What!” Logan instinctively moved forward, but the infantryman pushed him back with his gun.
“An Arcadian fleet has entered the nebula and is on its way to our position. The leadership has decided to keep you under guard until this matter is taken care of. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”
He pointed to the exit, and the infantrymen corralled the trio into the exterior corridor.
Sweat dripped down Fox’s brow, and he dabbed it with his sleeve. He’d been in more than a few tight spots during his life, but none where the stakes were so high. If the base was destroyed and the leadership were killed, the rebellion would surely fall. He placed his hands behind his back and looked over the central hologram displaying the fleet deployment in orbit above their hidden home.
Hauser walked up to his side. “The Corina’s been searched.”
“And?” Fox asked.
“They found nothing. No homing beacons of any sort, and nothing else that could’ve given away our position in the nebula.”
Fox breathed a sigh of relief but also shook his head in frustration. “None of this makes any sense.” Before he could give it any thought, one by one, the Arcadian ships appeared from the dense gases and pressed toward the planet. They’d followed Vernon’s course to the letter. Fox couldn’t help but remember the speech about hope he’d given Nathan Logan. It had quickly become redundant.
“It appears they outnumber our forces two to one,” Hauser said, checking the detailed scans.
“We’ve faced bigger odds before.” Fox paced around the central hub of workstations with his most trusted offsider in tow. “What do you think they’re waiting for?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say they were gloating.”
Moments later, the Arcadians made their move. Fighters launched from their carriers, and the heart of their fleet made a run for the ORC line.
I guess I spoke too soon.
THIRTY-TWO
An infantryman walked down the corridor ahead of them while the other two soldiers trailed behind, with their guns pointed at their backs.
“Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?” Logan asked.
Vernon narrowed his eyes at Logan and Speer. “No. The leadership hasn’t survived as long as they have without taking precautions. The Arcadians shouldn’t have been able to link us here.”
“So, you do think they followed us?” Speer said.
“I don’t see any other possibility.”
Logan shook his head. “But how—?”
“I don’t know.” The floor shuddered beneath them, and particles of dust fell from the ceiling. Vernon gripped the wall to keep his footing but was quickly nudged onward by the infantryman behind him. “The Arcadians are bombarding the surface from orbit.”
Another blast struck, this time much closer to the underground facility. Logan remained upright, but Vernon had no such luck, collapsing to the floor.
“This is not how it ends.” Vernon took Logan’s hand and got back up. He glanced at the infantrymen, who were just as unsteady on their feet.
Logan must have seen the look and raised an eyebrow at Speer. The helmsman winked at the pair and smiled. He might be a pain in the ass but he wasn’t stupid.
“Let’s keep moving,” an infantryman instructed them.
Logan turned and punched him in the jaw, stripping him of his rifle. He kicked him in his knee and struck him across the face with the gun, sending him to the floor. Speer shoved the nearest soldier to him against the wall and kneed him in the stomach. Their comrade, shocked, attempted to raise his gun, but Logan beat him to the punch and aimed the rifle squarely at his head.
“Don’t,” he said to the man with eyes as large as dinner plates.
Speer dispatched the other infantryman to the floor, slamming the butt of the procured rifle into his jaw. His eyes glazed over, and he slid down the wall in front of them.
Vernon grabbed a weapon and checked the ammo inside it. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”
Logan nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
The three men returned the way they’d come and reentered the construction facility, where many of the fighters had already been launched. But there were still a few of the newer-style craft in the far corner that Reyes had shown them earlier.
“There’s only two.” Logan walked up to the closest of them and placed his hand on the ladder which led to the cockpit.
Speer climbed it and fumbled inside the cockpit, bringing back down a flight suit and helmet.
