Descent Page 8

  “Perhaps we can notify some of our mobile assets and put them on the job of getting her out,” Naima suggested. “Dular maybe. After all, our Genwodian’s already helped Jiang out once. And, it’s like you said to Asten, we’re not exactly ready for any quick extractions. It’s still going to take us a while to get to Imraec Tarc with everything else we’ve got to take care of.”

  “I know,” Drackson said as they entered the mess and started assembling breakfast. “But delayed assistance is better than no help at all.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Naima sighed. “Explain to me again... Why don’t you want to get Dular to do this?”

  “He and the rest of the assets are needed where they are. I have a feeling that Zak and Maia are going to need all the intelligence we can scrape up on Imraec Tarc a little sooner than I thought.”

  “The Frontier’s incursion?” Naima asked, making herself a coffee, Harskan style with the generous helping of spices her people liked.

  “It’s going to happen soon,” Drackson said. “Really soon, I think. Zak couldn’t say anything specific because we were on an open channel but I imagine the operation will be carried out within a few weeks. And there is no way that the Phalamkian fleet is not going to be involved. Especially with the three Levarc Dreadnoughts they keep in joint possession with the Felariam.”

  “You think the Frontier’s worst kept secrets are going to come out from under wraps?” Naima asked, holding her cup to her lips and taking a sip.

  “I’m certain they will,” Drackson said. “They’ll be part of whatever strike force is sent, you can count on it.”

  8. Maia and Zak’s Preparations

  Maia stepped down the ramp of her personal shuttle and out onto the landing platform. She took a deep breath of the late afternoon air and looked at her new environs. Felarias, the world of her mother’s people, was showing signs of change.

  When she had first seen it, most of the people were living in a handful of small canyons. Then, she had thought it was by necessity. A lifestyle resulting from the planet having been rendered uninhabitable by a Levarc bombardment. She had later learned that it was because of habit that the people had been living that way; they had retreated into the canyons to take shelter from the attack and had remained there.

  Now, with assistance from some of the best agricultural and terraforming experts from the United Frontier, the ecology was rapidly recovering - and it was mostly using indigenous plants and animals from one hemisphere of the planet that had been left unscathed by the Levarc attacks. As a result of all this, people had gradually started moving out of the canyons and the landing platform that Maia was standing on now was proof of that. It was on elevation.

  The person she was going to meet however, being more set in his ways than the younger generations of Felariam who were once again exploring their world, was still living in the canyons.

  He was there waiting for her on the platform and as she walked away from the ship, he came over to embrace her.

  “Uncle Cyraes,” she greeted him with a smile.

  “It’s good to see you, Maia,” he replied, “although I understand it’s not exactly a social call.”

  “Not exactly, no,” Maia said. “But still, it’s good to see you too.”

  Her uncle put his hand on her shoulder. “Well, come on. We can catch up in the air speeder on the way over.”

  As Maia looked over the jungle that covered the floor of the canyon, she could understand why her uncle still lived where he did. She took a sip of the drink he’d given her and turned back to him.

  “So,” Cyraes said, “the Freedom Class Dreadnoughts.”

  The Levarc Dreadnoughts that Felarias and Phalamki had acquired in the defense of Felariam four years earlier were Levarc in their origin and design but as refitted possessions of the Felariam and the Phalamkians, some people had argued that to continue referring to them as ‘Levarc’ suggested an ownership that no longer existed. And so these same people had given them the new moniker of ‘Freedom Class Dreadnoughts’. Maia knew these people had spent a lot of time thinking over possible names before they had arrived at that. She wished they had spent a little more.

  “The refitting on all the ships is complete, as I understand,” she said.

  “It is,” Cyraes said. “And the conversion to dual-layered shielding is now complete as well. All sections of the hull on all three ships. Furthermore, and I don’t know whether you or your young man have seen the reports, but we’ve also just tested the latest weapons upgrades.”

  “Oh, good. I was wondering about that. So how did they perform?”

  “The modifications have been successful and the range of all the weapons emplacements is comparable to that of one of your Battle Titans.” Cyraes smiled. “We wanted to know whether they’d match the range of one of the Federation’s Class-A cruisers as well but Admiral Fieruss wasn’t... as accommodating as his predecessor may have been. At least when it comes to that kind of information.”

  Maia pressed her lips together in a smile of her own. “If the weapons range matches that of the Battle Titans, it matches that of the Federation’s Class-As.”

  Cyraes looked at his niece in surprise. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Zak and I have compiled our own lists of vital statistics,” Maia said. “Admiral Draedon and Dainard Emerson helped us out with it as well. For Draedon, ships are something of a life-long hobby. With Emerson, it’s...”

  Cyraes waved a hand. “It’s all right. I know about Dainard Emerson. Zak’s told me some stories. He’s a fine upstanding man, your Zak, but he does have a somewhat boyish admiration for loveable rogue types. Or, in Emerson’s case, ex-rogues as it were.”

  “He does a bit,” Maia agreed. “Actually, he may have some more stories for you later as he’s going to be meeting Emerson again before I get back. Anyway, the ships...”

  “You want them now?”

  “Sort of,” Maia said. “I want them ready now but that’s not quite the same thing.”

  “True enough. Are we going to leave them at the Outer Shipyards then or move them to Phalamki?”

  “Move them to Phalamki,” Maia replied. “They can fly out from here with minimum crew - that should be easy enough - and Phalamkian personnel can make up the missing numbers when the ships get there.”

  “It sounds as though you want them ready for action by the end of the week,” Cyraes said, sounding a little overwhelmed.

  “I do. There’s no harm in being prepared. And it’ll give the Felariam and the Phalamkian sides of the crews time to get used to each other and time to get used to the ships.”

  “Sound thinking. Well then, I’ll see about rounding up the people we’ll need to get those ships under way.”

  Zak entered the anteroom off the bridge of the Valiant where his guest was waiting. The man was getting on in years now but apart from some wrinkles near his eyes that creased his dark skin and a touch of silver in his hair, he still looked remarkably well.

  “Zak,” he said in a warm voice, shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, Dainard,” Zak replied.

  He gestured for Emerson to sit and sat down across from him.

  “You didn’t have to come in person,” he said.

  Emerson waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all right. I like Phalamki. It’s always nice to visit. And besides, it seems to me that neither you or that lovely lady of yours want to talk about any of this Imraec Tarc stuff over long distance transmissions.”

  Zak smiled. “You noticed that?”

  Emerson shrugged. “Everyone involved’s noticed that, I’d imagine. Why else would Maia fly all the way out to Felarias to order the Dreadnoughts transferred here?”

  “Because she wanted to see her uncle.”

  Emerson nodded, his smile approving. “Not bad, Zak. That was almost plausible.”

  “So what do you think about these privateers hanging around the Imraec Tarc region? Were you able to
talk to any of your old people?”

  “My pre-resistance friends? Well, most of those who are still in the business - and there aren’t many, mind you - well, they say they can’t afford to be seen telling me anything. If their contacts find out that they’re friends with an ex-resistance general, currently well-to-do respected gentleman like myself, then they won’t do any more business with them. They’ll be too scared that I’ll use my contacts to track them down.

  “However, one of my old friends whose profile is small enough not to be noticed answered the call. A guy called Trelloc. He’s a bit of an opportunist... tries his hand at a lot of things, with varied success, although he’s learned over the years to stay away from the more dangerous people on the fringe. But anyway, he’s given me some interesting information on missing ships.”

  Emerson passed a pad to Zak, with said information already displayed.

  “The Intrepid,” Zak read aloud. “A Bromlor Gunstar reported lost on a routine convoy between Kordan and the Nilouan Republic. A ship matching its description appeared three weeks later at a slaughterhouse auction at a remote station near Nyev’ji.” He put the pad down. “Interesting but I’m not sure what it means.”

  “That slaughterhouse,” Emerson explained, “would be about as close as you could get to Imraec Tarc while still remaining in Frontier space. Trelloc’s been hanging out there for the past few days, posing as a potential buyer, asking about the kind of merchandise that’s been coming through.”

  Zak frowned. “He should be careful about that. If any of the criminals he’s talking to mistake him for a law enforcement official, he could be in real trouble.”

  Emerson smiled. “One of Trelloc’s many advantages is that he really doesn’t look cut out for law enforcement. He’s got ‘small time’ written all over him.”

  Zak shrugged. “Well, if you say he’s okay... But anyway, his information is good?”

  “It checks out. And he checks the merchandise that’s going through with news archives to see if it matches anything that’s been reported missing. He’s thorough. In fact, I’d say this might just about pay off the debts he owes me.”

  “Well, it looks like he’s earning his keep, whatever those debts are,” Zak said as he scrolled down the list of ships in Trelloc’s report... and stopped. “What’s this part here?”

  Emerson took the pad from Zak, looked at it and handed it back. “That’s gossip about which groups have gone and got themselves juicy private contracts with whatever counts as Imraec Tarc’s defense fleet. If it’s not building a privateer navy, it’s still swelling its ranks with mercenaries.”

  Zak eyed the list, pursing his lips. “I think I can see why you came to me in person with this.”

  Emerson nodded.

  “This is good,” Zak said, switching the pad off. “This is exactly the kind of information I need. Couple this with Carla’s reports about weapons smugglers supplying delydrium to Felkar and you begin to see a little of what the government of Imraec Tarc is up to.”

  “Felkar?” Emerson asked. “Their one and only friend? You think they’re in on whatever it is too?”

  Zak shrugged. “Hard to tell. But if the government there’s not working with Imraec Tarc, it’s a fairly safe assumption that a number of the less scrupulous locals are. Look, I’d like to see if we can keep your friend Trelloc on a retainer. And, if need be, I can send some field agents out there to watch his back for him while he gets this information. Now if I arrange the funding, do you think you could set up a discreet credit line for him? I’d like to get as much of this information as I can.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Emerson replied.

  Naima looked up as Drackson came into their cabin.

  “He’s here?”

  “He’s just docked with us,” Drackson told her.

  “Let’s go then,” Naima said, getting up and following him out.

  They went to the hatch and opened it to admit another Harskan, a taller and darker man than Drackson.

  “Naima,” the Harskan said with a warm smile. “It is lovely to see you. And Drackson always looks the better for your company.” He turned to his old friend. “And Drackson, it is good to see you again as well. Your mother sends both her greetings and, of course, her love.”

  “As do I to her,” Drackson said, “which you can tell her when you return, my good friend.” He embraced the other Harskan, patting him on the shoulder. “It is good to see you as well, Braesk.” Then he smiled. “And while Mother sends her love, what have you brought me?”

  Drackson looked at the two contraptions on the deck on Braesk’s ship. They appeared as ships in miniature, rather triangular, but with a draconic aspect and folded wings. They also looked expensive.

  “Have you ever flown one of these before?” Braesk asked.

  “I trained on one a couple of times back in the war,” Drackson replied.

  Braesk smiled. “You’ll find you didn’t, Drackson. That was a trick question on my part. These didn’t exist back when we were fighting the Levarc. These models succeed several updated versions, which in turn succeed the one you trained on.”

  “I see,” Drackson said, crouching by the nearest one and giving it a cursory inspection, running his hands lovingly over it. “Is it more difficult to use?”

  “Yes and no,” Braesk said. “The controls are somewhat more efficient and I believe they’re more intuitive than those of the previous models. However, since you’re already familiar with an older version, you may have some unlearning to do.”

  Drackson shrugged. “I shouldn’t expect it would be that much. After all, it’s been so long anyway that I imagine I’ve forgotten most of the training already.”

  “Well, if you’re serious about using this equipment, you’ll still need a quick course to familiarize yourself with it.”

  Drackson looked at his friend. “I believe Naima and I are going to need this equipment sooner than we thought.”

  Braesk took a deep breath. “I see.”

  “So how quick can you make this course?”

  Sitting at his desk in the Kerali naval headquarters, Lord Erama glanced over the data that Emerson had sent him, the same information the man was presumably discussing with Zak on board the Valiant. It was, to put it mildly, interesting reading. He had only begun perusing it however when he was interrupted by a beep from the communicator.

  “Yes?” he said, flicking it on.

  “Lord Erama,” came a voice. “Senator Ereis of the Hie’shi government wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience. He’s waiting in Conference Room Seven.”

  Lord Erama rose to his feet. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

  It was a little walk to reach the conference room in question but it did not take Lord Erama long. Once inside, he shook hands with the sole occupant.

  “Senator, it is something of a surprise to see you so shortly after your previous visit,” he said as they both sat down. “One wonders whether you have had a chance to return home in the intervening time or not.”

  Senator Ereis made a cheerful clicking sound and spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

  Lord Erama smiled. “Then we must be very bad indeed. Once again, I wasn’t informed of your visit. I am sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, Lord Erama,” the senator replied. “You were not informed because, as it was the last time, this is visit is hardly a formal one. Consider it a courtesy call.”

  “I see.”

  “No, Lord Erama,” Senator Ereis said. “You do not. Not yet. I have information for you. And for your adopted daughter and her husband.” He leaned back, exhaling a slow breath, the Hie’shi equivalent of a sigh. “I do not envy them, Lord Erama. Trained fighter pilots. Serving with the Resistance, working with different Frontier governments such as Koratav... they have had a lot of experience. And a lot of combat experience as well. But this? The liberation of a world, with potentially millions of civili
an lives in the balance... It would be an enormous challenge for the most experienced of commanders. To put this burden on children -”

  “They are not children,” Lord Erama said.

  Senator Ereis nodded, his gaze cast down. “You are right of course. I was speaking comparatively.”

  “And as you speak from concern, my friend, there was no offence taken. Anyway, you said you had information.”

  Senator Ereis looked up. “Yes, I have a source on Imraec Tarc.”

  Lord Erama had not been taken aback by the reference to Maia and Zak as children but he was taken aback now. “You have a source? I’ve just sent my other daughter and her husband into a potentially very dangerous situation there to retrieve our own source and now you tell me you have a source there too?”

  “Believe me, my source has not been there long,” the senator told him. “A week or two perhaps. Three at the most. Sending the Younger Lady Erama and Master Asten to extract Deramar Ardeis made sense at the time.”

  “At the time?”

  Senator Ereis drew in a sharp breath and exhaled. “In light of the information that I have just received, I’m not sure whether there is any purpose now to their mission.”

  “All right. Before we go any further, I’d like to know... who is this source of yours?”

  “A mercenary. And if you’re going to ask, then yes, I admit his credentials are somewhat dubious. However, in situations such as the one we now find ourselves in, dubious individuals can have their uses. And my mercenary has not only inserted himself on Imraec Tarc, he is working as we speak to investigate whatever threat it poses to us and, if possible, to neutralize it.”

  “What threat?”

  “If you strike us, we will fight back,” the Hie’shi senator said, quoting word for word the last message the government of Imraec Tarc had issued to the United Frontier. “If you wrong us, we will avenge. But remember this, and remember it well. You have nothing to gain by interfering in our affairs and you have much to lose.”