“Unless he attempts some kind of slingshot maneuver in order to lose us, he’s heading to the surface,” Scott says.
“If he didn’t want us to follow, we’d have never tracked him for the last three hyperspace jumps. He wants us on that world. I need planetary assessments.”
“Nothing of interest about telepathic citizens,” JC reports. “It could be some kind of natural phenomenon.”
Amye points out, “There’ve been no IMC mineralogical survey reports returned on the planet. They’ve yet to scan this system.”
“No one cares when there’s nothing of value. Figures,” Reynard says.
“I said no IMC reports, but they aren’t the only largest corporate mining operation in existence. Many others drill and grab as much from a planet before the IMC assumes mineral rights. Some of these microcompanies earn a substantial finder’s fee.” Amye draws up a mining company’s information. “I’m correct. This planet’s been surveyed, only…” Amye loses her thunder. “Doug’s going to have to hack their system.”
“That had to hurt,” Scott taunts.
“Smerth off.”
“Ki-Ton’s flight path intersects with those pockets of neurodynamic energy.”
Reynard matches the course and speed of the small shuttle. His fingertip rubs the weapons release button. He’d blast the craft from existence if Michelle wasn’t on board.
The swift descent of the shuttle sends her between two rock spires.
The Dragon’s left wingtip clips the top of one spire.
Sparks of blue lightning flash across the hull.
Throughout the bridge electrical surges bite each member of the crew. Control panels spark and power down.
The lake at the base of the spires grows bigger and bigger on the view screen before the image blanks.
“CAPTAIN.” THE COMMUNICATIONS officer jumps from her seat. “Captain!”
Kantian moves quickly to her station without running. His first officer joins him, ready to pounce on the subordinate.
“You’re a Lieutenant and a bridge officer. You represent example to the crew. Nicholls, you don’t scream out while on the bridge.”
“Sorry, Sir.” She lowers her head. Behind her left ear a cable runs into her jacker implant.
“What was the transmission?”
“It’s not a transmission. Well, it was…my sister on the Crescent Moon wanted to know if I had seen this video uploaded to the ISN. People require authentication, Sir.”
“Main view screen,” the first officer orders.
“No. Always view data first, Dar’Jeryd, before you share with the crew. Prevention’s better than damage control,” Kantian offers to his first officer.
“Play it, Nicholls.”
The Silver Dragon’s footage of the Throgen/Mokarran encounter scrolls on the screen.
Kantian holds his thoughts long after the viewing.
Finally, Nicholls asks, “Sir, who would capture actual footage of a battle with the Mokarran? It has links to sensor readings as well.”
“I’ve seen Mokarran/Throgen battle footage before,” Dar’Jeryd says.
“We all have, but they were released by the Mokarran. Many had jump cuts in the footage and never a sensor log. This appears captured by a passerby,” Kantian speculates.
“Sir, the Mokarran are letting their own fighters be slaughtered.”
“Appears so, Lieutenant. You downloaded this from ISN?”
“Jackers have attempted to destroy the transmission, but it shifts from one source computer server to another on a seemingly random time interval. Whoever programmed the release has more hacking skill than Near-Galely.”
“Placement on the ISN by a computer hacker harms the credibility of the transmission,” Kantian says.
“The Mokarran will claim as much,” Dar’Jeryd concurs.
“The Mokarran have no credibility.”
“The battle cruiser’s not firing its main cannons on the Throgen ship, Sir,” Nicholls notes.
“Damage of some kind,” the first officer offers.
“Make sure UCP Command is notified of this transmission, and send a copy direct to VP-Admiral Easter.”
“Right away, Sir.”
Kantian resumes his stance at his captain’s chair without taking his seat. Dar’Jeryd joins him. “Captain, those Throgen fighters were capturing as many Tri-Wings as they were destroying.”
“I noticed. Authenticate the transmission. Have another jacker run the scans and get someone on the Autarchy to check it as well. We get a few more fleet captains viewing it and the UCP won’t bury this.”
“Why would they? It’s valuable tactical information against Throgen forces if nothing else.”
“Common knowledge of a tactic usually leads to changes of strategy in order to design a countermeasure to it.”
“I hadn’t thought, Sir.”
“Neither did the helpful souls who uploaded the video. It makes anything we learn about Throgen useless.”
“I don’t think they were as concerned about us knowing how the Throgen fight as much as witnessing the Mokarran failing to provide covering fire to their own ships.”
“I need to brief Admiral Easter.”
Kantian seals the door to his personal office behind the main bridge, the ideal spot when a captain needs a private moment to consider a decision not produced by a high-stress situation such as combat. Maybe it’s better to hide in moments of weakness. Prevent the crew from witnessing their leader unsure of himself.
He activates his communication console.
Within a minute, Sergeant Yaren appears on the view screen.
“Secret agents aren’t at your beck and call, Captain,” he snarls.
“You’ve absconded with credits under your dishonorable discharge.”
“Which has gotten my foot in the door with a merc lance, but I’ll be unable to drop everything to report to you and keep my guise.”
“New information surfaced.”
“The broadcast of Throgen and Mokarran fighting. Lancers are swilling over it.”
“What do a bunch of mercenaries care?”
“Mokarran hire mercs. None of them will want to take a Mokarran consignment knowing they’ll be abandoned on the battlefield.”
“They’re drawn to Summersun for Mokarran credits.”
“Not this time.”
Kantian raises from the comfort of his chair. “Have you learned why?”
“I fell in with this merc group, The Bettys, they’ve taken the emblem of buxom women who used to adorn the bombing planes during some German-American war on Osiris. Someone’s hiring Lances and they need a fifth man to fill out another barb to get a special rate consignment.”
“You achieved your goal faster than you thought possible.”
“I’m refitting a Mecat now. No one seems to know who hired us, but it wasn’t the Mokarran-controlled Summersun government. It was an off-worlder who put out a call. Hired some Lance called
