Ardent’s two security guards detached themselves from a group and followed, scanning various individuals, covering all the angles. Silva was out there somewhere. Faulkner wanted to alert her to what was going on but couldn’t think how.

  This was progress, though.

  Ardent put her hands together in greeting. Faulkner bowed stiffly from the waist.

  Parnashikan stood between them. “Captain, if you wouldn’t mind repeating what you said to me just now.”

  Faulkner repeated what he’d said, virtually word for word, sensitive to how this might be interpreted. Or, more likely, misinterpreted.

  “But you can’t know that these aliens will come back,” Ardent frowned. “You can’t be absolutely certain.”

  “No, but it is highly likely that they will return and that’s the reality we have to deal with. If you’re in a high rise and there’s smoke coming up from the basement you can’t know for sure that the place is on fire but you’d be a fool not to evacuate.”

  “You want us to evacuate Blackthorn? Is that what you’re saying? But we’re not defenceless. Anything but – what with all these security systems we’ve got in place. Added to that is the sheer number of people involved. We don’t want to panic anyone.”

  “And that’s why we need to start a staged evacuation as soon as possible, in order not to panic anyone.”

  “Well, it’s good that we can agree on something,” Parnashikan said. “The sooner we get this flight embargo lifted the sooner we can start getting people away.”

  That’s not what he’d meant at all.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Parnashikan. We seem to be at cross purposes here. The only safe place to move these people to is down on the planet. You put them into those cruise ships and you may as well paint a target on the side. We won’t be able to protect them if they try and run for it.”

  Parnashikan rolled his head from side to side. “I don’t think that it’s up to us to tell people what they can and can’t do at times like this. We’re not fascists. People aren’t stupid, captain. If they want to go down to the planet then that’s up to them. Similarly, if they want to buy a ticket for a transport – well, that’s up to them to decide, also. Though I know which option I’d choose.”

  Faulkner had to force himself to listen to what Parnashikan was saying. As captain, he wasn’t used to people openly disagreeing with him.

  Especially, when those people were so patently wrong.

  He took the opportunity to put down his plate and snatch a drink from a passing waiter.

  He had to remember that he was talking to civilians, and powerful civilians at that. At the Academy they had worked through countless scenarios where you were given all the relevant facts but then had to convince a hostile third party of the strength of their argument. He’d never been particularly good at it. There were always objections which he hadn’t anticipated but what really frustrated him was when people purposefully misinterpreted what he was saying.

  He felt as though that was what was happening now.

  The key when trying to win this kind of argument was always to try and undermine the opposition’s credentials. That had been Parnashikan’s intention when he had used the term ‘fascist’. He hadn’t accused Faulkner directly, but then he didn’t have to. Name-calling and innuendo worked just as well in the state house as it did in the playground.

  He turned to Ardent. “Governor, I’m here to assist you, not to tell you how to run your station.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” she said, firing off an admonishing look in Parnashikan’s direction.

  “But you must understand that with the Nantucket and the Meridian destroyed the Mantis represents your main line of defence. Subsequently, you’re going to be looking at a reduced range of options. If you do decide to launch those transports then there’s virtually nothing I can do to protect them. They’d be on their own. Your best plan of action now would be to start utilising the space elevator. Get as many people down onto the surface as you can.”

  “You really think it’s as bad as all that?” Ardent said.

  “I do. How many people can the elevator hold at any one time?”

  “Three and a half thousand but in an emergency probably more.”

  She looked over to Parnashikan for confirmation. He gave a curt nod.

  “And the other one. The cargo elevator?”

  “I have no idea. It’s not set up for passengers so we’d have to look into it.”

  But Parnashikan was not so easily dissuaded.

  “That might be something to consider in the long term, governor, but, with the aliens long gone, I don’t see how they pose any obvious threat. Besides, this flight embargo is not good for trade. Every day it continues is costing the operators millions.”

  As the three of them stood at an impasse, Faulkner spotted Silva moving over in their direction. She was swiftly intercepted by one of Ardent’s security team but she wasn’t to be put off. She produced her tablet and inverted it so that the security woman could better see the screen.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Battle stations! Battle stations!”

  Webster was trying to deal with the sudden influx of data that had been flooding in over the last few minutes.

  He looked up to see Bertran standing over him, looking grim faced.

  “What have you got?” Webster asked.

  “We’ve positively identified her as a Yakutian vessel, sir. The Serrayu.”

  “Have we got any data on her?”

  “Not much,” Bertran observed. “The Serrayu is part of their new Tormentor class.”

  Webster nodded. “I didn’t think they’d gone into production on those things yet.”

  “That is correct. The Serrayu and her sister ship Beitung are prototypes. They were the first of their kind to enter space trials. They’re the new breed of super-carrier and, for that reason, I’m afraid there’s an awful lot we don’t know about them.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better.”

  Webster called up a private screen. He didn’t want the rest of the crew seeing this. Not yet anyway.

  Bertran moved to stand behind him but had to crouch down in order to see the screen.

  “There’s a lot of mass there,” Bertran said. “As you can see, she has the capacity to carry a whole flight of Shrikes. We’ve not seen any evidence of that so far but they certainly have the capacity. What they do have is a pair of highly effective fission canons mounted fore and aft. We’re still unsure where they’re getting the power to fuel these things but – if they are fully functional - it would certainly give them the advantage in most engagements.”

  There was a reason why Bertran was telling him all this. Fission canons like these had been no more than a pipe dream during The Long War. Modern ships could rely on their shields to absorb a lot of the damage a fission canon could inflict but the Mantis didn’t have any and would have to rely on their armour alone.

  “What about the rest of her armaments?” Webster wanted to change the subject.

  “Other than the fact that they’re packing an awful lot of firepower, everything else seems fairly standard. Where they do have us at a definite disadvantage though is in the area of her missile systems.”

  Bertran leaned across Webster in order to tilt the image of the Serrayu forward. He then zoomed in to show six launch chambers set along the ship’s dorsal section.

  “These for example. They’re obviously a major part of her armaments – we just don’t know what they might do or how they might work. They may use conventional missiles but, then again, they may not.”

  Webster examined the images. “No one’s seen them in action, I take it? Any idea what they might contain? An educated guess perhaps?”

  Bertran bit his lip. He didn’t like not knowing and was wary of committing himself.

  “All we know for sure is that the Yakutians have built three new weapons facilities in the last ten years, so they’ve obviously been working on something, but our spies have had very little luck in coming up with any hard intel. All we do know is that one of their projects is code named Hellsmouth but otherwise, that’s it.”

  Webster was looking at one of the launch chambers in close up when Yamada’s voice cut in.

  “Commander, the Yakutian vessel is scanning us.”

  Faulkner felt rather than saw Bertran tense.

  Countless ingrained training responses kicked in but they were all hopeless. There was no way he could engage anyone with all four main engines out of commission.

  “Switch to active scans,” he said. “I want to know the moment any of their weapons comes online.”

  “Active scans, aye,” the comms officer said.

  The screen in front of him shifted to an image of the Serrayu which was over-set with various targeting options.

  “Active weapons check,” Bertran said over the group link.

  “Forward torpedoes loaded,” the woman’s voice was slightly too strident in Webster’s ear. “All systems green for go.”

  “Laser batteries one to four active and standing by.”

  “Lasers five through eight are active and good to go.”

  One by one, the various departments confirmed their weapons readiness. While this brought Webster some level of reassurance it didn’t stop his heart hammering any less loudly in his chest. Now was a time for cool heads. With no idea what the Yakutian captain’s intentions were, it would be all too easy to over-react and provoke a response.

  Actively targeting the Serrayu at this point would invariably escalate the situation further and that was something he was eager to avoid.

  “We do have the option of a multiple launch, of course,” Bertran was saying.

  Webster had to keep from rolling his eyes. “And what exactly would that achieve?”

  “It might sound rash but it would at least give us the element of surprise. These super-carriers are kept in the rear of a campaign on purpose: their enormous size is actually quite restrictive. Means that they suffer from restricted maneuverability and, at this relatively close range, that could prove to be the deciding factor. Your opposite number is expecting a game of chess, not an immediate onslaught.”

  Webster nodded. It did have a certain kind of crazy logic to recommend it. “You think we should go straight onto the offensive.”

  “A win is a win, sir. And if we wait much longer you can forget any possible advantage we might have had.”

  Webster couldn’t believe what his Tactical officer was proposing. Yet, at the same time, he might be right: if they waited for the Serrayu to make the first move this engagement would be over before it had begun.

  “You’re not seriously suggesting that we could win this thing, are you?”

  “Surprise is clearly our best option. The Serrayu is a brand-new ship, sir, as of yet, untested in battle. And, as we know to our cost, untested systems are liable to fail when tested in the field. It’s a risk but if the Serrayu does intend to engage us, I don’t see that we have any other option.”

  As Webster’s executive officer, it was Bertran’s job to suggest alternative courses of action but Webster couldn’t, for the life of him, decide whether the Frenchman was being serious or not.

  “The Serrayu is powering up one of their weapons systems,” the comms officer declared. “Though I can’t be totally sure which one.”

  “It’s possibly their fission canon,” Bertran said.

  Webster leaned forward and tapped an icon on the arm of the command chair. The tactical display appeared in the centre of the bridge. He and Bertran went over to stand in front of it.

  The amount of firepower currently at his disposal was truly awesome.

  Bertran made a show of double checking the weapons’ status then turned to Webster.

  “Your orders, sir?”

  Webster tensed. This was actually happening.

  He shot a look over at the comms station, willing them to give him some fresh news – something which would justify further delay - but none was forthcoming.

  On the main screen, the Serrayu appeared to be coming around.

  Bertran was looking at him expectantly.

  “Sir!” the comms officer said. “We’re picking up a communication from the Yakutian ship. They’re asking Blackthorn Central for approach vectors.”

  Time passed.

  “Stand down, Mr Bertran,” Webster said.

  Bertran looked disappointed. “Standing down, sir.”

  He pinged the tactical screen, causing it to disappear before returning to his station.

  Webster’s eyes returned to the main screen. He watched as the Serrayu’s began its approach using controlled pressure venting.

  “Their weapons system is powering down now, sir. Returning to normal levels.”

  Webster suddenly realised that his hands had bunched into fists.

  He had to make a conscious effort to try and relax.

  *

  Ardent said, “Captain Faulkner, while we appreciate all your efforts of late, we feel that the immediate danger has passed. My people must be allowed to go about their business as they see fit. And, to that end, I am revoking the state of emergency.”

  Faulkner remained tight-lipped. Even as a junior member of the Confederation, Blackthorn Station should be subject to the self-same defensive requirements as all other colonies. Technically, as a Starfleet captain, Faulkner outranked everyone on-board.

  Until the state of emergency was cancelled, he had the power to over-rule all decisions. Faulkner knew that and he knew that the other two knew it also.

  But Faulkner also knew that being a junior member of the Confederation was a long way from being a full member. If he tried to push his authority, there was every chance that Ardent would simply refuse to comply. And that wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interests.

  Ardent said, “In the current circumstances, could you tell me how quickly the Confederation might be able to fortify our defences?”

  “I take it that you’re asking about reinforcements, ma’am?”

  “That’s right, Captain Faulkner, and please refrain from calling me ‘ma’am.’ You make me sound like a maiden aunt.”

  “My apologies, governor,” his mind reeled. With Admiral Paige’s battle fleet currently sailing towards Piatra, every spare ship would be needed to defend the home colonies. Nothing could be spared for out-of-the-way stations like Blackthorn.

  “While I’m not at liberty to make any specific assurances, I’m sure that once the seriousness of our situation becomes clear, reinforcements will quickly be made available.”

  “That’s strange,” she said. “That exactly what Captain Meyer said just prior to him leaving the system.”

  Faulkner winced at that comparison. Claus Meyer had run from the enemy rather than stay to defend Tiagra. What he’d done was indefensible.

  “I don’t think that you can judge the whole Confederation by the actions of one officer.”

  “Though it is tempting,” Parnashikan said, “If Captain Meyer’s example is anything to go by, it could be a very long time indeed before we receive any help from the Confederation.”

  “Excuse me, governor,” Silva was standing off to one side. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s extremely important that I speak with Captain Faulkner.”

  “That’s quite alright, lieutenant. I think that we’ve finished our discussions for the time being.”

  But we haven’t even spoken about the engines!

  Faulkner, recognising a dismissal when he heard one, made his excuses and left.

  Once they were out of earshot he said, “What is it that’s so important? News from the fleet?”

  “It’s Commander Webster, sir. He says it’s urgent.”

  Silva offered him a fresh ear bead and, while he inserted it, she patched him through to the ship.

  “Faulkner here. What can I do for you, Commander?”

  “Sorry to call you away, sir, but things are moving rather quickly out here. As of half an hour ago, a Yakutian battlecruiser has entered the system. We believe it to be the Serrayu, although it’s yet to identify itself.”

  Faulkner rubbed his ear lobe as if that might clarify what he’d just heard. “I understand. Where did she come from?”

  “She just appeared through the Hilary Gate and is currently heading in our direction.”

  “I see. And she’s on her own? No suggestion that this might be part of some larger, more co-ordinated attack force.”

  Webster said, “There’s nothing to suggest that.”

  “Have you tried hailing her?”

  “That would be my next move, sir, though I wanted to check with you first.”

  “Very good, Number One,” Faulkner surveyed the people moving around him. His next decision was likely to have far reaching consequences.

  If there was even the slightest chance that they were at war with the Yakutians then he needed to be back aboard the Mantis as soon as possible. Silva was discreetly monitoring the connection on her tablet, showing no sign that she was eavesdropping.

  Faulkner said, “Alright Alex, I’ve heard you, but before I make any kind of decision I need to talk to someone. Give me ten minutes. Do not fire on the Serrayu in the meantime, under any circumstances. Is that clear?”

  “What if the Serrayu launches first?”

  “You’re the c.o., Alex, though with our engines in the state they’re in, that doesn’t leave you with too many options. Just use your own discretion.”

  With that he returned the bead to Silva.

  “Come on, we need to speak to the governor. Urgently.”

  Faulkner returned to the buffet only to discover that, in the meantime, she’d disappeared. Then he caught sight of Parnashikan talking to two other men. When he asked them where he might find the governor, Parnashikan’s face contorted in feigned puzzlement and he waved him away before returning to his conversation. Regardless of where he looked, Faulkner could find no sign of her.

  Faulkner experienced a sudden twinge of panic. What if all this was all part of some elaborate plan designed to draw him away from his ship, so that the Mantis might be more easily targeted? He managed to get a hold of his feelings before they got out of hand. Surely, if there was one person who had engineered for him to be away from his ship at this moment, then it was him. He’d been the one who’d given the go-ahead to disconnect the Mantis’ main engines. He’d also been the one who’d insisted that he should be the one to personally represent their case to Ardent. No one had tricked him into doing it – he’d done all this of his own volition.