Star Fortress

“You are weak warriors, striking from the dark,” Centurion Titus said. “You fear to face us man-to-man. Very well, face the ship’s weapons then.”

“The Mao Zedong is moving,” Osadar said. “I think they’re turning the ship to bring a missile-port to bear.”

With a mental effort, Marten pushed aside the death of half his men. He had been with them a long time, but he couldn’t let that affect him now. He needed to think, to outwit a Highborn. The trick with them was to play to their arrogance. They thought of themselves as so superior and premen as cowardly and small.

Marten wanted to grind his teeth in rage. Instead, he forced himself to say, “Tell him we surrender our boat.”

Osadar and Nadia turned around in wonder. Osadar spoke first. “You want to surrender to the Highborn?”

“No,” Marten said. “I want to get close enough so we can board the missile-ship.”

“I do not understand,” Osadar said.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t either.”

“You are twisting your words?”

“These are the Highborn who planned to castrate me,” Marten said. “They stamped a number on my hand and treated me like an animal, a preman. I don’t like twisting my words, but this is war and he just killed half of my marines. Now open channels, and I want a direct video link with him.”

Osadar did as he requested.

In his combat-suit, Marten sat down clumsily on the pilot’s chair. He twisted off his helmet, letting it float in the air beside him, but out of sight of the video link.

In seconds, the wide face of a Highborn appeared on the screen. Centurion Titus had white hair in a buzz cut and he was missing his right eye.

“You are a preman,” Titus said.

“I’m Marten Kluge.”

Titus curled his thin lip. “I’ve heard of you. Prepare to die, preman.”

“I’m ready to surrender my boat to you,” Marten said.

Titus paused. “You are defenseless?”

“No. I have my PD cannons.”

Titus showed his teeth in a grin. “You fear the missile-ship. You are wise, preman. But it will not go well with you. Therefore, I do not understand why you are unwilling to die fighting like a warrior.”

“I have people with me,” Marten said, “my wife among them.”

“Ah,” Titus said. “You are weak with your emotion of love. Yes, I accept your surrender. Turn you craft and begin immediate deceleration.”

“I will comply,” Marten said.

“No,” Titus said. “You will obey.”

Marten knew how to satisfy Highborn egos. So, although it grated upon him, he hung his head. “I will obey,” he said grudgingly.

“You were a fool, preman. You destroyed a few shuttles, but failed to kill many of us. For the few you did kill, your fate will be a hard one. Yes, I will accept the surrender of Marten Kluge.” Titus leered. “I see you’re wearing combat-armor. I hope you decide to fight, preman. It would give me joy and increased rank to kill the insolent Kluge.”

“I’m surrendering my boat to you,” Marten said. “You have won this encounter.”

Even as they spoke, Marten turned the William Tell and began deceleration.

“Enjoy your last minutes of freedom, preman. For the rest of your life will be one of agony.”

Marten forced himself to shudder. Then he switched off the channel. Turning to the others in the compartment, he said, “We’re surrendering our boat, but we’re not finished fighting.”

Group-Leader Xenophon grinned.

“I’m never going to surrender to anyone,” Marten told the marines. “As we begin to dock, we will exit the William Tell. Let them have the patrol boat. It’s us they’re going to have to deal with.”

* * *

The ion engine burned its hottest, slowing the William Tell as it approached the Mao Zedong. The missile-ship used side-jets, slowly rotating. Just as slowly, one of the undamaged particle-shields began to move.

The thick mass of shielding was attached to gigantic struts that moved in grooves along the outer hull. It allowed the warship’s captain to rotate shields as needed. As the shielding moved, it revealed a row of big PD cannons, many times larger than those on the patrol boat. The shield moved just enough for the cannons to fire. Later, it could move more to allow the boat to enter a hanger. Titus had already instructed them to prepare for boarding. Highborn would come out and make sure this wasn’t a suicide vessel meant to explode once past the shielding.

The ion engine shut down. Slowly the patrol boat drifted toward the big cannons.

“You know the plan,” Marten said. “Now let’s do it.”

As the boat drifted closer, the space marines began to exit out of a hatch opposite the missile-ship. Marten stayed behind by the com-equipment.

White-haired Titus hailed them and appeared onscreen. “Two Highborn are on their way. If they are harmed, the cannons will obliterate your vessel. If you decide to ignite yourself in an effort to harm us, you are wasting your time.”

“I will not blow up my boat,” Marten said. “You have my word on it.”

“A preman’s word?” Titus sneered.

“For what it is worth,” Marten said.

“Since last we spoke, I have read your file, Kluge. You are a traitorous beast.”

“I have my faults, but I am not traitorous.”

“Commandant Maximus is anxious to have you back at the Sun-Works Factory.”

“The missile-ship is headed there?” Marten asked.

“My soldiers have you in sight. Ready yourselves for them.”

Marten dipped his head. “I am prepared.”

“Go, and remember to act contrite in their presence,” Titus said. “Otherwise, it will go even harder for you, preman. You killed several of our comrades in your cowardly attack.”

“Marten Kluge, signing off,” he said, tapping the screen and cutting off communications. Hurriedly, Marten donned and sealed his helmet, heading for the hatch.

Soon, he floated outside the William Tell. Using rungs fitted for such actions, Marten “climbed” to the top of the boat. Activating the HUD in his visor, he spotted two Highborn in their combat-armor. White particles of hydrogen-spray propelled the two super-soldiers from the Mao Zedong and toward the William Tell.

Marten clicked on his suit-to-suit communications. “Some of those cannons are sure to open fire once we act, but we’re going to have to risk it. The cannons are meant to kill ships and shuttles, not individual marines. Are you ready?”

He heard the affirmatives.

Marten flicked on his IML. Beside him, Omi did likewise. They were the highest-rated on them. Therefore, they had the honor of reigniting hostilities.

“One, two, three,” Marten whispered over the suit-to-suit communications.

At almost the same instant, two Cognitive missiles launched from their IMLs.

It was a short flight, but the Highborn were quick. One fired a weapon. The other throttled open his thruster- pack, moving faster. It didn’t matter for either. Both Cognitive missiles hit and exploded, and each killed one of the master race.

Before the small missiles hit, everyone climbed above, below and to the sides of the William