Frontiers 05 Rise of the Corinari Read online

  Contents

  Ch. 1: Birth of the Alliance

  Ch. 2: Repairs and Negotiations

  Ch. 3: Chasing Drones

  Ch. 4: The Alliance is Official

  Ch. 5: A New Crew

  Ch. 6: Training

  Ch. 7: Masquerading as the Yamaro

  Ch. 8: Tug's New Toy

  Ch. 9: Preparing for a New Threat

  Ch. 10: Defending the Darvano System

  End Page

  Chapter One

  Nathan stared at the large display screen on the forward bulkhead of his ready room as he flipped through page after page of damage reports generated by the Aurora’s newly installed automated diagnostic systems. The list of malfunctions was daunting. The jump drive was offline, only one antimatter reactor was working, gravity plating on half the ship was fluctuating, and half their rail gun turrets were down as well. Of course, they only had about two seconds worth of rail gun ammo left, so a lack of functioning turrets was the least of their problems. At least they had maneuvering, so they could crawl around the system if necessary.

  His concentration was broken by the sound of the entry buzzer. The hatch opened to reveal Tug standing in the hatchway with his usual stern, yet friendly, expression.

  “May I enter, Captain?” Tug asked with unusual formality.

  Nathan waved him in as he continued scanning the reports on the wall display. “Of course.”

  “Interesting data?” Tug asked, glancing at the display.

  “Damage reports,” Nathan responded with obvious disdain. He sat back up in his chair and turned toward Tug, switching off the wall display. “Corinair seemed like a nice place, didn’t it?” he began. “Find a little piece of land, build a home, do a little farming, lead a quiet, peaceful life…”

  “Until the Ta’Akar return and occupy the system,” Tug interrupted, “or worse.”

  “What can I do for you, Tug?” Nathan asked, his daydream now fully dissipated.

  “There is something that I wish to discuss with you, Captain,” Tug began, again with a more formal tone than usual.

  “That’s twice you’ve called me captain in the last two minutes. It must be serious.”

  “Forgive me if what I am about to say seems…” Tug paused a moment, searching for the appropriate Earth expression. “…Out of line?”

  Nathan’s expression changed, a faint look of surprise registering. “Speak your mind, Tug,” Nathan said, trying to assure the leader of the Karuzari that he was free to say whatever he wished.

  “Well, it is about the tone of your command.” Tug took a seat across from Nathan on the other side of his desk.

  “Really?”

  “Do not misinterpret my meaning,” Tug quickly added. “I find your approachable demeanor and your trustworthiness quite pleasant. However, I am not sure that it will serve you well under the current circumstances.”

  “How so?” Nathan had a feeling Tug was leading somewhere. However, he was a bit surprised that Tug was treading so gingerly around his point.

  “The Corinari are highly trained, highly disciplined combatants. They are also fiercely loyal. But that loyalty must be earned.”

  “And you think my friendly manner will not earn their loyalty.”

  “Actually, I suspect you have already earned it through your actions,” Tug explained. “Keeping that loyalty, however, is another matter. The Corinari do not tolerate weakness in their leaders.”

  “You find me weak?” Nathan asked, feigning insult.

  “Not at all, Captain. Quite the opposite, actually. But your friendly manner as you put it—it could easily be misunderstood by the Corinari.”

  “I see.” Nathan couldn’t help but be amused by how uncomfortable the subject seemed to make Tug. “I’ll take that under advisement, and I’ll try not to be so friendly in the future.” Nathan smiled, then noticed that Tug still seemed somewhat pensive. “Was there something else?”

  “I am afraid so… your crew. They seem to be a bit on edge.”

  Nathan had noticed a change in the few surviving crew he had left. They had become more segmented than before, limiting their associations to small select groups and avoiding the other groups altogether whenever possible. It was like two teams at a sporting match, neither one talking to the other. “Yes, I did notice that,” Nathan admitted.

  “I believe that the most recent Ta’Akar incursion is the cause of the unrest,” Tug asserted. “I have overheard several conversations in passing. It seems your crew is trying to decide who should be blamed for the failure of security that led to the attacks. I believe that their debate is the result of the accusations being tossed about by Jessica and Vladimir. Each appears to be blaming the other, at least indirectly.”

  “I’m not sure any one person is to blame,” Nathan defended.

  “You are mistaken, Captain. The blame lies with one person and one person alone.”

  Nathan stared at Tug for a moment, waiting for a response. When it did not come, he shrugged and gestured for the answer from Tug.

  “I am afraid the blame is yours, Captain.”

  “Tug, I wasn’t even on board at the…”

  “Precisely,” Tug interrupted, his frustration building. “You were not on board, and you should have been.”

  “I was only trying to secure…”

  “Captain, I comprehend what you were doing and I commend you for your devotion to your friends. But you have to understand something; you can no longer afford to be their friends. At least not in public. You are their captain now. Be that first, be their friend second. They need a leader more than they need a friend, as do the Corinari. Lead them, and they will follow you. If you do not, they will turn on you faster than you might imagine.”

  “What are you saying, that the Corinari might mutiny?” Nathan asked, somewhat shocked. “If that’s the case, then maybe we should reconsider taking them on as crew.”

  “Captain, do not overreact to what I am saying,” Tug warned. “You need to look at the situation from their perspective. The Corinari may be loyal, but their entire world is at stake. All of them might not see you as the legendary Na-Tan, but they all understand that your ship and its jump drive are the best hope they have to secure their world. If they believe that you are not up to the challenge, they will do what they must to save themselves, no matter how distasteful they might find it to be.”

  “What is it you suggest I do differently?” Nathan asked in a tone that was perhaps more of a challenge than he had intended.

  “Captain,” Tug began with a sigh, “ever since we met, you have been in survival mode. You have been scrambling to keep your ship and your crew alive and intact; to meet each challenge as it is thrown your way. Despite your lack of experience, you and your crew have done a remarkable job thus far.”

  “But?” Nathan asked, fully aware that Tug’s compliments were meant to soften the sting of the criticism that was to follow.

  “But much of your success to date has been nothing more than amazingly good fortune,” Tug warned.

  Nathan was not surprised by Tug’s statements. Nathan had been blessed throughout his life with such favorable luck. Whenever he appeared to be in unavoidable trouble, something would come along and provide him a way out. Tug was not the first to notice this, but Nathan had practically become reliant on his reoccurring good fortune over the years. His parents, his sisters, even his Fleet Academy roommate, Luis, had warned him that someday his luck would run out. “Yeah, I’ve always been pretty lucky,” Nathan admitted.

  “Do you ever ask yourself what you will do if your luck fails you?” Tug asked.

  “Not really,” Nathan admitted with some degree of embarrassment.r />
  “Captain, I have known my share of men such as yourself. Call it luck. Call it fate. Call it instinct; the name by which it goes is of no matter. Sooner or later, it no longer works; their luck abandons them. Unfortunately, they are usually not the only ones who are affected by their dire change of fortune.” Tug looked Nathan straight in the eyes. “Are you willing to risk the fortunes of everyone, our worlds’ as well as your own, on your good luck?”

  “Tug,” Nathan began hesitantly, “we both know that I’m not really qualified for this job.”

  After an abnormally long pause, Tug asked, “How did you end up as captain, Nathan?”

  “You already know…”

  “Yes, but tell me once more,” Tug interrupted.

  “I was the last one standing,” Nathan summarized.

  “Was not Commander Taylor standing as well?”

  “I was the most senior officer left standing,” Nathan said, somewhat annoyed that he was having to retell the story.

  “Because your captain had promoted you over Commander—then Ensign—Taylor.”

  “Correct.”

  “And why do you think he chose to promote you over her?”

  “He thought I had natural leadership abilities,” Nathan admitted, although he had never shared his late captain’s belief. “But I doubt that he expected me to be sitting in his chair so soon,” Nathan added.

  “But he was aware that the possibility existed,” Tug insisted, “and that one of you had to be of higher rank than the other.”

  “But that was for the purpose of running the flight teams,” Nathan argued, “not commanding the entire ship.”

  “Possibly,” Tug conceded. “However, I suspect that he also made his selection because he felt that you were a better choice, should the unthinkable happen.” Nathan was about to disagree, but Tug did not give him the chance. “You said that Captain Roberts was conscious and alert when he formally handed you command of the Aurora. Had he felt that you were not the right man for the job—or more specifically, had he thought that Ensign Taylor had been better suited for the position, I expect he would have said as much.”

  Nathan sat back in his chair, staring at Tug and remembering some of the things Captain Roberts—whom he had buried only a day ago on the world below—had said to him only a few weeks ago. He had also liked to lead Nathan to his conclusions rather than just presenting them outright. “You know, you remind me of him at times.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Captain Roberts,” Nathan explained.

  “I will take that as a compliment,” Tug said as he looked curiously at Nathan. “My point is that you have the training required to perform your duties, even if you do not yet have the experience. The situation is difficult, yes, but not impossible.” Tug noticed that Nathan was still staring at him. “I hope I have not been imprudent,” Tug asked.

  “Not at all, Mister Tugwell,” Nathan assured him. “And I will try to be more captain-like in the future.”

  “Very well,” Tug announced as he rose. “Then I will see you at the briefing,” he added as he turned and headed for the exit.

  “Where did you learn so much about command, Mister Tugwell?” Nathan wondered aloud. “Certainly not as the leader of a rebellion, and definitely not as a molo farmer.”

  “I have a rich and colorful past, Captain,” Tug told him as he turned back and smiled. “Even before my days in the Palee militia. I hope that I can share it with you someday.”

  Nathan smiled back. He had no doubt that there was far more to Redmond Tugwell than met the eye—even more than Jalea, Tug’s subordinate in the Karuzari, already knew. He seriously doubted anyone would ever learn of it all.

  * * *

  Nathan paused at the entrance to the briefing room when he saw two Corinari guards escorting Ensign Willard of the Yamaro’s crew. They had just reached the top of the ramp that led from the Aurora’s main deck up to her command deck, and were moving down the corridor toward him.

  “Gentlemen,” Nathan greeted. The two Corinari guards stopped a few steps from the captain, snapping simultaneous salutes which Nathan awkwardly returned. The Corinari salute was somewhat different, with their forearms at a forty-five degree angle to their torso and the palm of their hand turned directly toward their faces, thumb tucked in tight. Nathan couldn’t help but think that if they just moved their salute hands a little more toward their noses, they would look like they were trying to cover one eye.

  “Thank you for coming,” Nathan said to Ensign Willard.

  “I am honored to be asked,” Ensign Willard responded.

  Nathan glanced down at the restraints on the ensign’s wrists, the same type that had been on the wrists of the Takaran soldier they had interrogated several days ago. It was an ugly episode that Nathan wished he could forget. “Are the restraints really necessary?” he asked one of the guards.

  The guard glanced at his partner briefly before responding. “Orders, sir,” the guard responded with a heavy Corinairan accent. “Your security chief…”

  “Remove them.” Nathan interrupted.

  “Yes, sir,” the guard responded, immediately removing the restraints from Ensign Willard and placing them in the pouch on his utility belt. “Shall we continue to guard him, sir?”

  “From out here,” Nathan instructed in no uncertain terms.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Ensign Willard said as they entered the briefing room.

  “Not at all,” Nathan told him. “I expect your experience in the service of the Ta’Akar will provide us with some valuable intelligence.”

  “I will help in any way I can.”

  “Your Angla is quite good,” Nathan commended as they walked the few meters from the hatchway to the briefing room table.

  “My mother was a strong follower of the legends,” he explained. “She taught us the language so that we would know the truth.”

  “I see.” Nathan kept walking along the row of chairs, leaving Ensign Willard to take his seat at the only other chair that was left empty, which was at the opposite end of the table from where he, as the captain, usually sat. Everyone else was already seated and waiting for Nathan to arrive, still chatting amongst themselves as he worked his way around to his seat. It occurred to him that Tug, who was currently sitting at the chair to the left of the captain’s chair, was right. If Captain Roberts had walked into this room, everyone would have snapped to a position of attention out of respect for his position; at least the fleet personnel would have done so. Maybe he was being their friend more than their captain. “As you were, everyone,” he said sarcastically as he took his seat.

  Jessica looked from side to side as she grasped his subtle hint, but it was already too late, as Nathan had taken his seat and was about to start the briefing.

  Nathan paused for a moment before speaking, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “For the last two weeks, we have been operating in a state of occasionally controlled chaos. Obviously, events left us very little choice in the matter, but this in and of itself has led to a breakdown in communication between departments, as well as a breakdown in the general chain of command. This has to end, now.”

  “Nathan,” Jessica started. Nathan glared at her. “My apologies, sir. I meant Captain.” She paused for a moment, checking Nathan’s expression to be sure it was safe for her to continue. “It’s a little hard to have a proper chain of command when we’re down to a crew of twenty-three.”

  “Perhaps, but we’ll soon have considerably more crew joining us from Corinair. If we don’t set a proper example, how can we expect them to follow us?” Nathan looked at Jessica, who nodded her concession to his point. Nathan turned to Tug. “Speaking of volunteers, how are we doing on that front, Mister Tugwell?”

  “So far, we have nearly four thousand volunteers. According to the last communiqué from Chief Montrose, it has yet to show any signs of letting up.”

  “What kind of people are volunteering?” Nathan asked.

  “All
types, it appears. Everything from simple laborers to physicists.”

  “Anyone with experience in space?”

  “A few,” Tug said, “but you have to remember, Captain; most of the young men that are forced to serve in the ranks of the Ta’Akar never make it back to their home worlds. Less than ten percent, I would imagine.”

  “Are you saying that ninety percent of them die in combat?”

  “If I may?” Ensign Willard interrupted. Nathan nodded for him to continue. “Yes, some do die in the service of the Ta’Akar, but most of them just end up somewhere else. You see, when your time has been served, the Ta’Akar tend to just let you off on the nearest world for you to find your own way home, which is not an easy task.”

  “Nice folks,” Jessica mumbled.

  “Precisely,” Tug agreed. “This is why there are so few on Corinair with experience on a combat space vessel. Since most of their tours end in the Takaran home system, the majority of them end up stranded there. It also serves to provide the Takarans with a low-income worker-class to do the jobs that Takarans themselves do not wish to do.”

  “There are at least twenty of them still amongst the Yamaro’s crew, Captain, and probably many more from other worlds that might be willing to serve your cause in exchange for a promise to be returned to their homes. And they do have experience aboard a combat space vessel.”

  “Yeah, a Takaran combat space vessel,” Jessica chimed in. It was obvious to all that she was not in favor of the idea.

  “Exactly my point,” Ensign Willard stated in response to Jessica’s snide remark. “With you, it would be their choice. With the Ta’Akar, it was not.”

  “I’ll take the idea under advisement,” Nathan told Ensign Willard. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jessica’s disapproving glare, but chose to ignore it. “Doctor,” he began, looking to Doctor Chen next, “how is Commander Taylor doing?”

  “Remarkably well,” Doctor Chen admitted with obvious astonishment. “The nanites they used did incredible work. It will take several weeks for them to finish, and then a few weeks more before they are all flushed from her system. She is looking at about a month of recovery time, at least according to her Corinairan doctors. On Earth, if she had survived, it would’ve taken nearly a year of therapy and even then there would probably have been permanent motor and cognitive deficits.”