“And managed to avoid every single actual conflict of the war,” Mage-Captain Daalman told them. “Records show that there was an MISS scout ship that swept the system while we were looking for the Hyacinth Accelerator Ring, but that was the only time anyone from the Protectorate was there.
“We’ve posted a destroyer in the system since the end of the war, with the support of the current Cardinal-Governor. No problems, no trouble.”
She shook her head.
“It’s a show-the-flag task, people. We’re not expecting trouble.”
Roslyn felt a chill run down her spine, which she concealed by taking a bite of the excellent cheesecake. From the nature of her secret mission, there was more going on at Sorprendidas than anyone thought.
Martian Interstellar Security Service agents didn’t generally just vanish, after all.
“We’re looking at twenty-five million people on two continents,” Kristofferson told them. “There are three more continents that are habitable but less pleasant than the two they’ve settled, and some of the usual asteroid extraction infrastructure.
“They’ve got an asteroid belt for raw materials and a gas giant for fuel and a generally warm and pleasant inhabitable planet.” He shrugged. “Give them another fifty years and they’ll have levered themselves into MidWorld status without much external help.”
The Fringe Worlds were generally self-sufficient for food and had a couple of local industries but needed to trade for most technological systems. MidWorlds were complete industrialized economies, with moderate sources of wealth and usually their own defensive security fleets.
The Core Worlds were the first dozen colonies. No one had yet decided on criteria for a MidWorld to become a Core World.
“Do they have any local defenses?” Roslyn asked. She hadn’t had time to look that up since being briefed by the Prince-Regent and Mage-Queen.
“The Republic set up a prefabricated gunship base in orbit with thirty gunships,” the XO replied. “Like most of the in-system defenses set up by the Republic, Sorprendidas kept them. Enough to cause us trouble, I suppose.”
“I’ll make some notes and prep some exercises,” Roslyn replied. “We should be able to handle thirty gunships—even if mostly by running away until they run out of missiles.”
Several of her colleagues chuckled. There was no one there who hadn’t served in the war, and they all remembered the strengths and weaknesses of the Republic Interstellar Navy’s sublight parasite warships. They carried a lot of launchers for their mass—and very few missiles for those launchers.
“That wouldn’t be fun for them,” Franklin said. “Squish-squish.”
Song of the Huntress, like the rest of the RMN, used magic for gravity. RIN warships had needed to either spin or accelerate to achieve similar sensations of “down”—and the gunships were too small for any kind of spin. Roslyn had seen the inside of several after the war, and they were designed for short-term operations with acceleration tanks and suits to allow them to withstand high thrust.
“We don’t plan on fighting the locals,” Daalman headed the engineer off drily. “Those gunships are more likely to be backing us up than fighting us.”
“I’ll prep some exercises for that, too, then,” Roslyn said cheerfully. “I don’t think many of us have practice thinking about how to use ex-RIN gunships.”
“Agreed. We should work on that,” Huntress’s Captain said. “We may have scrapped every carrier they built, but there are still a lot of gunships running around.”
The gunships, after all, hadn’t been built using people’s brains as their main engine.
5
When Samuels finally reported aboard, Roslyn found herself in the same position as Kristofferson had been on her own return. She was standing behind the safety barrier as the shuttle slowed to a halt—and felt the vibration as the megaton-and-a-half-plus starship’s main engines came to life.
Mage-Captain Daalman had already made it clear they wouldn’t be hanging around once the Mage-Lieutenant was aboard. There were a few others reporting in late for a few reasons, but their sixth Jump Mage was the only person they were going to hold up the entire destroyer for.
Kirtida Samuels saluted crisply as soon as she spotted Roslyn. The Lieutenant was a dark-skinned woman with naturally copper-red hair that contrasted sharply with the rest of her features. Like most Mages by Blood, born from the descendants of the brutal eugenics program that had created the modern Mage, her genetics were…complicated.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” Roslyn greeted her subordinate. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine,” Samuels said. “I’ve felt fine for at least a day, but apparently they’re really careful around soft-tissue injury.” She shrugged. “I’m not allowed to work out for a minimum of a week—other than the specific exercises they gave me—and I have to follow up weekly with the ship’s doctor for two months.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Roslyn said. “Check in with medbay as soon as you get a chance and schedule those. If at all possible, I’d prefer we not have to shift your watch schedule—but we’ll do what it takes to make sure you get the care you need.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m fine,” the younger woman said with a chuckle. “But I’ll follow orders, sir. Yours and the doctors’.”
“Good Lieutenant,” Roslyn said, gesturing for Samuels to follow her. “There’s a briefing packet prepped for you on our mission. Jordan is fully up to speed—she’s on watch with Captain Daalman right now—so she can fill you in if you have questions.”
“Of course, sir,” Samuels accepted. “The Chiefs will fill me in on the rest, I’m sure.”
“They do that,” the tactical officer agreed. “Now, you should also have got an update on the new TOS? We get to guinea-pig for the entire RMN.”
“Lucky us,” Samuels noted. “Any problems, sir?”
“Nothing major, but watch your controls for the first few days. Nothing is quite what you expect it to be.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Tactical chiefs and officers’ meeting after the jump,” Roslyn
