Rebellion's Fury Page 3

  “Certainly, Your Excellency. I wouldn’t expect anything more. As I said, I was surprised that the overture occurred at all. I think you will find Haven a very interesting place . . . and I am sure President Danforth and General Ward will be delighted to meet you.”

  “I look forward to comparing the men to their reputations—”

  “Captain, we’re getting scanner readings. Multiple contacts, moving toward the jump point.” Griff Daniels was Nerov’s first officer, and one of the three members of Vagabond’s crew on the bridge. “They’re about two hundred thousand kilometers behind us.”

  Nerov’s body tensed. Her last two trips had been without event, with not a sign of a federal ship, neither in the Sol system nor in Epsilon Eridani. Now she felt like she had in her smuggling days when the scanners picked up a contact, only worse. She’d never doubted the federals would invade Haven again, and right then, somehow, she knew that nightmare was about to begin.

  Two hundred thousand kilometers wasn’t that far away, not in terms of space travel. Vagabond should have picked them up farther out. Which meant they had been employing stealth technology. And if they decided they wanted to be seen, that wasn’t a good sign.

  It meant they thought they had nothing to fear.

  “Let’s kick up the thrusters, Griff. Hiding isn’t going do us any good this time. If they’re heading to Haven, we’ve got to get there first.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Nerov turned back toward Kutusov. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but we’re going to have to increase our acceleration beyond the abilities of our dampeners to compensate. As I said, I’m afraid Vagabond isn’t outfitted for comfort.”

  “Please don’t worry, Captain Nerov. I assure you I will be fine. Do what you must to safeguard the ship.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellency.” Nerov turned back quickly, before the smile she was holding back burst past her control and onto her lips. She’d suspected the ambassador’s infatuation would have its uses, and that was proving to be the case. She further suspected he’d be a whining, spoiled pain in the ass, complaining about everything . . . if he wasn’t trying to impress her with his toughness and charm.

  Though if you’re really trying to lure me in, you have to do a better job of keeping the fear out of your voice.

  Let’s see how impressed I am after we get out of this jam.

  “Full thrust now, Griff. Let’s get out far enough to jump.”

  “Engaging now, Captain.”

  Nerov took a deep breath, exhaling hard as the g forces slammed into her chest. Vagabond was accelerating at a little over 6g, though the dampeners made it feel more like 3g. Still, feeling three times your body weight pressing down on you was no picnic.

  “Lock in jump coordinates, Griff. Calculate earliest jump point exceeding base safety parameters.” The density of particulate matter in space dramatically increased the chance of catastrophic jump failure, the primary reason why ships traveled to the outer reaches of a solar system via regular thrust before making a jump to their destination. This time, though, they had to risk it.

  “Jump locked in, Captain. Time to baseline, one minute, ten seconds, assuming current acceleration level is maintained.”

  “Very well. Hold acceleration.” She took another look at the scanner. There were nine ships there now, all apparently broadcasting jamming signals with impressive strength. Which only confirmed her thinking.

  Military.

  Nerov knew the terms of the treaty that had ended the last war between the superpowers. No discharge of weapons within the Sol system, not without first obtaining clearance from both of the other governments. But a treaty provision was one thing, reassuring but far less than an absolute guarantee. Nerov didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out just how far the federals would push it, especially since they had to know she’d been running guns to the Havenites.

  “Ready for jump in thirty seconds.” Daniels’s voice was low-pitched, gravelly.

  “Just lean back, Your Excellency. Relax. You might feel some strange sensations when we transition out of normal space, but that’s nothing to worry about. Time will pass . . . oddly. It will only seem like a few moments before we reemerge into Epsilon Eridani, though several days will have elapsed in normal space.”

  “I understand, Captain.” The diplomat was clearly still trying to hide his fear, but with no greater success than he had before.

  “Commencing jump . . . now!”

  “Status update?” Josh Garabrant walked across the control room, balancing a large cup of coffee and a pastry in one hand, a tablet and a stack of data chips in the other. He looked like he was about to tumble over, but he managed to keep his balance and glide right into one of the workstation chairs.

  “Update? You’ve asked me that on every shift change for six months, Josh. And what have I said every time? No contacts. You know why there are no contacts? Because there are never any contacts. No ship has come to this system in almost a year, except for Vagabond twice. And neither of those times was on my shift.” Kip Claren stood up, gathering his personal items into a small satchel. “And do you know what you will report to your relief? No contacts.”

  “I think you’ve been up here too long, my friend.” Garabrant flashed a smile at his comrade. “Somebody has to keep watch. One of these days something will show up on that scanner.”

  “Do you think? I’ve been hearing about the federals coming back for a year now. Where are they? When are we going to accept the fact that we’re free, and we’re on our own, cut off from Earth, from the other colonies? We wanted freedom, and that’s just what we got. We’re alone. All by ourselves in the universe.”

  Garabrant could hear a touch of resentment in the other man’s voice. He’d long suspected Claren’s support of the rebellion was at best lukewarm, at least in regard to the idea of total independence. He’d almost suggested a transfer for Claren to the base commander, but there weren’t a dozen people on all of Haven who knew how to operate the orbital station’s scanners. Claren was a malcontent, a complainer, sure, but Garabrant doubted he was a true federal loyalist.

  “Still, we have to keep an eye out. Just in—”

  Garabrant’s head snapped around as the alarm bells suddenly sounded. He reached out to his controls, his arm pushing the precariously perched cup off the workstation, splashing black coffee all over the deck. Claren jumped, escaping all but a few drops of the coffee. He looked over at Garabrant, clearly unnerved by the alarm.

  “Command, this is scanner control. We’ve got something coming into the system.”

  “Acknowledged, scanner control. Start your track.”

  Two lamps on the outer wall snapped on, casting a yellowish glow across the room as the station went to alert status.

  “Commencing track, Command. We’re getting something. Single contact, course directly toward Haven.”

  “Acknowledged, scanner control. Report mass and energy output data when available.”

  “Command . . .” Garabrant stared at the screen on his workstation. “Hold,” he added as he focused on the data streaming in. “It’s Vagabond, Command. We just picked up her beacon.”

  “Very well, scanner control. I’ll cancel the alert.”

  “Attention, Haven base. Attention, Haven base.” Nerov’s voice blasted out of every comm unit.

  “We read you, Vagabond. This is Lieutenant Garabrant in scanner control. Welcome home.”

  He leaned back, his eyes darting to the floor as his foot slid on the spilled coffee. It would take almost twenty seconds for his message to reach Vagabond, and as long for a signal to return. There was nothing to do in the interim but wait.

  Forty seconds later, “Haven base, listen carefully, and retransmit everything I say to General Ward. We have just jumped from Sol. There is a fleet forming there, federal forces organizing for some kind of operation. It can only be the invasion we’ve been expecting. I don’t know if they’ll be here in two hours or two d
ays, but it looks like they’re coming, and I’d bet they’re here sooner rather than later.”

  Garabrant snapped from his slouched position, suddenly feeling the tension in every muscle in his body. Even after his lectures to Claren, his admonishments about not taking the threat seriously, as he’d sat at his station every shift, he had never actually expected to detect any hostile forces. Now the reality of it closed in on him. He was scared shitless.

  “Lieutenant, forward that entire communiqué to army headquarters on the planet and to President Danforth. And send an acknowledgment to Captain Nerov.” The duty officer’s voice left little doubt that she, too, was shaken by Nerov’s words.

  “Acknowledged.” He reached out and sent the transmission as he’d been directed. Then he looked around the small room and saw Claren’s silent, motionless form standing against the wall. There were just the two of them, and suddenly he felt very alone.

  “Looks like the yellow alert is still on,” Claren said, gesturing toward the blinking lamp.

  “My guess is it’ll go red long before we see green again.” He reached out to the controls, flipping on the comm unit. “Captain Nerov, this is Haven base acknowledging receipt of your transmission. Your report has been forwarded to the appropriate authorities as requested.”

  He paused for a few seconds, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard. Then he added, “Thanks for the warning, Vagabond.”

  Nerov sat quietly in her chair on the bridge, deep in thought. She gave a silent thanks to whatever gods watched over spacers that Kutusov had been shaken up enough by the transit that he finally left the bridge and retired to his bed.

  Her bed. Though not the way she suspected the diplomat had hoped. She’d given him her quarters for the trip. Vagabond wasn’t exactly outfitted to carry guests, and certainly not diplomats with inflated opinions of their importance. But she knew any help the Union might provide to a Haven Republic struggling to maintain its independence could be the difference between survival and the almost unimaginably unpleasant—for her and the other rebel leaders, at least—alternative. Her quarters were the only remotely comfortable lodgings on the ship, and she figured it wouldn’t kill her to bunk with the boys for the trip back from Earth. Bonding with the crew was always a worthwhile exercise, and she suspected she’d been more aloof than usual since revolution had broken out. Her people had all stayed with her when she’d signed on to support the rebellion, despite the fact that they’d joined Vagabond’s crew as smugglers, dedicated to personal gain and not to fighting for a cause.

  Hopefully, Kutusov found her cabin pleasant, and if he worked himself into a better mood fantasizing that there was more to the offer of her quarters than simple courtesy, so much the better. She wasn’t above a little harmless flirting if it helped the cause. But that’s all it was ever going to be, and the pompous Russian was going to spend his time in there alone.

  She watched as Haven grew on her display. The planet had moved from a tiny dot to a sphere perhaps a centimeter across. She’d jumped about as far in-system as she dared, but it was still more than a day to the planet.

  It didn’t matter, not really. She’d already sent the warning, and she knew Danforth and Ward would do what had to be done. Assuming anything could be done. Nerov was a realist, perhaps even verging on the pessimistic. She’d often wondered if the Havenites had any real chance to win this struggle, and her doubts had only grown one evening after she and Damian had talked long into the night. The commander of the army of Haven had succumbed to fatigue, to familiarity—and perhaps to one brandy too many—and he’d told her what he really thought. It had been sobering, to say the least, to hear that the man in charge of the defense—the war hero almost universally worshipped as the planet’s great hope—expected to lose.

  He would try, though. Fight like hell. But his concerns only reinforced her realization that her adopted planet faced a grim trial. And even if the Havenites won, Nerov knew not all of her comrades would see the end. Defeat would be disaster, utter and complete, but even victory would claim its blood price.

  She allowed herself a brief thought, verging on a hope, that she might live to see a free and prosperous Haven . . . and if that was not to be, she’d already decided on one thing.

  She had no wish to survive defeat.

  Chapter 4

  Army Headquarters

  Landfall City

  Federal Colony Alpha-2, Epsilon Eridani II (Haven)

  “Still nothing. It has been three days since Vagabond landed, almost four since the original transmission of the warning. Are you certain you saw an invasion fleet? Perhaps it was something else. Is it possible you were mistaken, Captain?”

  Damian watched nervously as Nerov glared back at Cal Jacen. Vagabond’s captain didn’t like the radical revolutionary. She disliked him even more than Damian himself did. Indeed, she’d told Damian straight out that, back in her days as a paid smuggler bringing in arms, she’d have put a bullet in the bastard’s head if John Danforth hadn’t intervened. He didn’t doubt her for a second, and part of him wished she’d done it. Jacen was trouble, and Damian was sure it would get worse before things were done.

  “Yes, Mr. Jacen, I am sure. You can believe me or not. Or you can go out back and—”

  “Captain Nerov is sure,” Damian said firmly, interrupting whatever, no doubt more pointed, comment the former smuggler had been ready to hurl back. “I have total confidence in her report, and we will act accordingly.” He stared over at Jacen, his eyes almost daring the hotheaded rebel to challenge him. Jacen was a member of the Haven Congress, and he’d acted more than once like that gave him the right to tell Damian what to do. The commander of the rebel—or, by the premature proclamation of the congress, Haven—army had a less volatile personality than Nerov, but in his own way, he’d been crystal clear what he thought of any effort by Jacen to order him around. Jacen tended to give him leeway, probably out of fear of the famous warrior, though Damian was fairly certain Nerov was the likelier of the two to shove a blade between the loudmouth lawyer’s ribs.

  “There is no time for arguments here. I have made myself clear for the past year. The federals have always been coming, and for all the premature celebrations and proclamations, this is when we endure our true trial. What has come before, the fighting at Vincennes and Dover, the detainment camps, the executions . . . all of that was just the beginning. The federals will never let us go, especially not now that we’ve given them no alternative save to fight or accept full independence. If we want that freedom that was so proudly declared, we’re going to have to fight for it. And we’re going to have to fight harder than any of you have imagined.”

  The room was silent, everyone present looking at Damian. Even Jacen was still, his eyes focused on Ward.

  Damian turned toward Danforth. “John, can you arrange a planetwide broadcast for me tomorrow morning?”

  “Of course, Damian. It will go out on all entertainment and news channels, and on the information networks, as well. I think we can get you in front of 90 percent of the population.”

  “Good. Let’s set it for 10:00 a.m.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  Damian paused, stifling a sigh. “I’m going to try to rally the population. I’m going to see how many of our trained personnel I can persuade to leave their farms and families once more and come back to the colors.”

  “You’re going to beg deserters to return? How can we let those who abandoned the cause come back to their positions? They showed themselves to be disloyal, and we should punish them as an example to others.”

  Danforth was squirming in his chair, looking like he was about to say something to Jacen. But Damian replied first.

  “Shut up, Jacen,” the general snapped. “I’ve listened to about as much of your nonsense as I’m going to take. Do you know what is coming here? Have you ever faced a federal soldier, a real frontline trooper, equipped with exos that quadruple normal strength, connected to the command net by
a communications network you couldn’t even imagine?”

  He panned his gaze around the room before landing it once again on Jacen. “Have you ever seen a tank? Not in a museum or a display, but coming at you through the mud, laser-targeted autocannons blazing away as it advances? Have you ever fought in a war, Jacen? Not a few pitched battles against glorified riot cops, but actual, full-on war? Or do you believe radical speeches and endless talk can win our freedom?”

  Damian shook his head, an angry scowl on his face. “I didn’t want to be part of this rebellion. I told anyone who would listen that this was going to be a cataclysm the likes of which none of you are prepared to face. But no one listened, and now we find ourselves exactly where I said we’d be. I’m not here to say I told you so—what’s done is done. And what’s more, we will fight, and we will resist the federals with the last of our strength. I will do everything I can to see our forces through this battle. But let me make this clear. We need every man and every woman we can get. Trained, untrained, experienced, inexperienced. If we are to prevail, it will take everything we have, and the sacrifices of thousands of Havenites. Including those who returned home without leave.”

  He turned and stared again at Jacen. “There will be no harassment of any Havenite. We cannot use the tactics of those we overthrew. If we do, why would anyone fight for our cause, much less die for it?” He paused, his eyes still boring into Jacen’s. “If I find you interfering with my soldiers in any way, I promise you, you have never been as sorry as you will be then. Do you understand me?”

  Jacen shied back, clearly intimidated at Damian’s uncharacteristically hostile words, but he rallied enough courage to respond. Barely. “I am a member of the Haven Congress, General. You cannot threaten me.”

  Damian moved closer, his face perhaps ten centimeters from Jacen’s. “Do . . . you . . . un . . . der . . . stand . . . me?” he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable in turn.