The Price of Conquest

"All right, Bryant, you can bring her down now."

"About time," Kressa grumbled under her breath and keyed the transmit switch. "Acknowledged, Control. Conquest out."

"Everything okay, Bryant?"

Kressa jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice, and then called up a relaxed expression and turned toward the bridge entrance.

Scott Warren stood at the top of the ramp. A friendly smile lit his features. "Permission to enter the bridge, Captain?"

Kressa returned his smile and nodded. Even after the three-day hyperspace journey from Terra, she had not gotten used to having passengers on board the Conquest, but they were at Arecia now, and she would soon be rid of them, although she would miss Warren's habit of calling her "Captain."

"Everything's fine," she said. "There's something going on down at the base. Probably some kind of drill. It's been delaying our landing, but we're clear now. Would you go tell the th'Maran we're about ready to land?"

"Sure, Captain." He turned to leave.

"You'd better make that 'Ensign,'" she mumbled to herself.

The enormous cavern that served as the main hangar for the Arecian base was a study in organized chaos. Kressa eased the Conquest through the massive doors and set her down in her designated spot against the south wall, opposite the wide entrance that led into the main body of the base.

Two shuttles loaded with Navy personnel skimmed out of the hangar in the short time it took Kressa to run a quick postflight check. A third shuttle was just lifting as she completed the tests. She hurried out of the control room toward the airlock, wondering what all the commotion was about.

Emre was waiting for her at the base of the Conquest's boarding ramp. The th'Maran woman smiled a greeting and started laboriously up the steep ramp.

"No, wait there," Kressa said. She swept down the ramp into Emre's waiting arms and opened her mind to the woman's greeting. "Are my sisters well?"

Emre released her and nodded, her mind still on Kressa's.

Kressa gasped and took a startled step backward when she detected three distinct consciousnesses within the link. She stared down at the th'Maran's belly.

"Gods," she breathed. "They really do know who I am." She looked up and met Emre's eyes. "They… touched my mind."

Emre smiled and nodded. "As I have been trying to tell you. They have only now learned to reach beyond my body. They missed you." She glanced up the ramp to the Conquest's airlock.

Warren and the four th'Maran stood in the open doorway.

"Valseir fral, jhalla," Emre said in the th'Maran language. Welcome from your journey, friends.

Kressa beckoned Warren and the others down the ramp and introduced them. Emre greeted each of the th'Maran with a welcoming touch and a brief meeting of eyes and mind, shook Warren's hand, and then looked at Kressa with a frown.

"There are only four?" she asked, her pewter eyes sad.

"I'm afraid so. We had trouble. Take them inside and get them settled. I'll find you later and we can talk."

Emre nodded and beckoned to the four. "Hassi, jhalla." Come, friends.

They moved away. Around them, the base continued to pulse with activity.

"Was she—er, pregnant?" Scott Warren's hesitant voice reminded Kressa she had one more passenger to take care of before she could dash off to try to discover an explanation for the base's unusual activity.

She gave him a feigned look of surprise. "What makes you think that?"

He actually blushed.

"Yes, she's pregnant," Kressa said with a smile. "Twin girls. They're Richard Shaw's children," she added and then watched for his reaction. It wasn't what she expected.

"That makes them your half-sisters, then, right?"

Her smile faded. "Oh. You know about that?" She wondered who hadn't heard about her relationship to Shaw. For years she'd kept it a secret, and then Devin Tyler found out. Now, it seemed the entire galaxy knew about it.

"I didn't realize it was a secret," Warren said apologetically.

"It isn't anymore, thanks to that loud-mouthed bastard Tyler."

"Devin Tyler?" Warren asked.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I've heard of him. I thought he was dead."

"No such luck," she said. "He's on Marasyn."

Warren's brow furrowed. "What's he doing there?"

"Rotting, I hope." Kressa scowled as she remembered the proposal by one of the th'Maran priests that Tyler remain on Marasyn. She could never figure out why they wanted him there, but it was a decent solution to the problem of what to do with him under the rule of law. Personally, she would have been far happier if those in charge of such things had simply ignored the law and found some way to get rid of him once and for all.

She shoved away her bitter thoughts and beckoned to a passing woman in a Guard uniform. "Sergeant."

The short, heavily built woman studied Kressa intently for a moment, as if trying to decide who she was and how much authority she might have, and then her expression lit with recognition.

"Oh, Ensign Bryant. What can I do for you?"

"Sergeant, this is Scott Warren, one of our Terran operatives. Things got a little hot, and he had to leave Terra in a hurry. Would you show him around and see that he gets a place to stay and a chance to talk with the general?"

"Yes, sir." She gestured to Warren. "If you'll come with me, Mister Warren."

Warren gave Kressa a wide-eyed look as the soldier led him away. "Ensign?"

Kressa smiled again and nodded.

She could get used to this officer thing; it got her respect, gave her a chance to give orders that were followed, and the shock value was terrific.

She shot a final wondering glance at the activity in the hangar, and then started toward the base entrance, pushing her way past the people moving in the opposite direction. She dodged around one group of Navy soldiers too caught up in their conversation to watch where they were going and nearly collided with Jonathan.

She flashed him a welcoming smile. "Jon, I—"

"Ensign Bryant!" he snapped, his expression harried. "Generally, we salute when we come across a ranking officer."

She snapped to attention. "Sorry, Captain, I—"

"Save it for later, soldier. You're out of uniform and the ship's leaving within the hour. You'd best be on board when she does."

Before she could question him about what was going on, Jonathan pushed past her and disappeared into the crowd.

Her shoulders slumped. So much for the fun of being an officer.

She stared after Jonathan with a frown, and then turned to follow him, wondering what had him so upset and where Stingray One was going on such obviously short notice.

* * *

"I don't believe in that kind of coincidence, Commander," Jonathan said from his command chair on Stingray One's bridge. He gave his first officer a stern look. "And neither does General Kamick. Two planets, light years apart, don't go silent without good reason."

"No, sir," Commander Kai Aerhom said, his fair features lined with worry. "I agree." He turned his pale blue eyes to his navigation console. "Lieutenant Satra was simply suggesting there might be a natural explanation."

"You're not going to feed me any of that bullshit about ion storms or cosmic dust clouds, are you?" Jonathan asked. "Even if they did exist, and even if they could interrupt broadcasts, both worlds are using hyperwave equipment we gave them. The only thing that can knock out that kind of communication is to bring down the transmitter."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Aerhom nodded. "All stations have reported in, sir. Full crew on board. We're ready when you are."

Jonathan nodded and gave Aerhom an apologetic smile. Why was he letting this get to him? First, he'd snapped at Kressa, and now he was coming down on Aerhom and Satra. Why couldn't there be a natural explanation for the silence from Taas and Falira, as his technical officer suggested? It was possible, just not very probable.

The most likely answer, the answer Aerhom seemed unwilling to face, the answer Jonathan had embraced perhaps too easily, was that one or both of the worlds had been attacked.

He signaled the transfer drive station at the far end of the room. "ITD, we'll visit Taas first. Plot a jump that will put us far enough away from the planet to keep any Patrol ships from spotting us, but close enough so we can see what's going on."

"Aye, Captain."

While Jonathan waited for the coordinates to be plotted, he tried to recall everything he knew about the worlds of Taas and Falira.

Taas was a colony world, one of the planets discovered well over a century ago by Alliance scout ships and later settled by humans. Its main trade goods were minerals, metals, and its protein-rich plankton harvest. Unlike most colony worlds, however, Taas was no place humans could naturally exist. Violent storms large enough to engulf an entire continent hurled constantly over the planet's surface, making Taas a meteorological nightmare. Most of the Taasians lived underground in mines or caves, or under the surface of Taas's oceans in well-anchored bubbles. The planet's few surface cities huddled in deep valleys where they could receive at least a measure of shelter from the storms, and they were built under strong, element-resistant domes. Yet even within the protective bubbles, life was not easy, and Taas supplied many of the galaxy's finest warriors and mercenaries.

Falira, on the other hand, was a quiet world graced with equal portions of industry and farming, and a native human population. The Falirans as a race were gentle, one could almost say timid. Jonathan found it surprising they actually had the nerve to defy the United Galaxy and declare themselves part of the Confederacy.

Other than the fact that both Taas and Falira claimed Confederate protection, the only similarity between them was their disparate but equally valuable standings as heavy suppliers of trade goods. That fact worried Jonathan.

"Transfer to Taasian system plotted, Captain," the ITD officer reported. The vessel's incredibly accurate communication system made it sound as if the officer were standing directly beside Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded and signaled for the jump. The transfer warning alarm rang. Seconds later, the universe dropped out from under him. For a moment, he felt as if he had fallen into a vat of icy water filled with bright blue and yellow lights. An instant later, he was dry and floating on a soft green mist, his ears filled with the sound of hundreds of indistinct voices. Then it was over.

He straightened in his chair and willed the tension from his body as the universe slid back into place.

"Transfer successful, Captain. We're right on target."

"Good work. Sensors, what have you got from Taas? Ships? Signals?"

"Negative, sir. The system's clear, and we're getting nothing from the planet."

Jonathan frowned. "Define 'nothing.'"

"Just what it sounds like, Captain. Nothing. Just a lot of random noise. There seems to be some sort of disruption in the atmosphere. It's blocking our sensors."

"One of their famous storms?" Jonathan asked.

"Not likely, sir. This is covering all visible areas of the planet."

Jonathan considered that for a moment. What could create such a barrier? Was it a natural phenomenon, as Lieutenant Satra had suggested? If so, what happened to Falira?

"Do a long-range sweep of the area," he ordered. "Launch a few probes. I don't want any ships hiding in the planets' shadows. And keep monitoring Taas. See if you can find a hole in that barrier."

Sometime later, the sensor station reported in with an all-clear.

"If there's a ship in this system," the sensor officer said, "it's got a new way to hide."

"Anything from Taas?" Jonathan asked.

"No, sir. The disturbance seems to be blanketing the entire planet. But I did find one thing. Records indicate there's a large space dock in orbit around Taas. I'm not picking up any sign of it."

"Acknowledged, sensors. Aerhom, take us into high orbit."

As Stingray One approached Taas, the view on the bridge's main screen switched to show the planet.

On the viewer, what should have been a relatively standard, if somewhat unruly, human-class world with blue ocean waters, the browns of continents, and the white brushing of storms and ice caps, was instead a dirty gray-brown globe of thick, swirling clouds.

A questioning murmur rolled through the bridge, and Jonathan fought the temptation to ask if they were orbiting the correct planet.

"Satra, what do you make of that?" he asked.

"I don't know, Captain." The tech officer's dark features tightened as she looked past Jonathan to the screen. "It's tempting to suggest we've got the wrong planet."

"I already thought of that. Still think it's a natural phenomenon?"

Satra shrugged. "Maybe."

"Can you get any readings at all?" Jonathan asked.

"Nothing that can tell us any more than our eyes already have."

"Sensors here, Captain. This is definitely the right planet. I just located the space dock… what's left of it, anyway."

The image on the main screen switched to an enlarged view of Taas. Silhouetted before the pale globe were the blackened, twisted remains of a large space station. The burnt-out shells of half a dozen ships floated nearby.

"Why didn't we pick this up before?" Jonathan asked.

"It's this damned interference from the planet, sir. It's playing games with the sensors."

Jonathan gazed past the skeletal bulk of the space dock to the muddy splotch of Taas. "Satra, get a probe down to the planet. I want to know what happened and whether anyone's alive under all that."

"Probe launched," Satra reported moments later. "Entering upper atmosphere. Descending." She watched her instruments for a few seconds. "Probe reports heavy turbulence, debris, abnormally high radiation count…" She paused to reset several controls, and then shrugged and glanced at Jonathan. "That's it, Captain. We've lost contact."

Damn, Jonathan cursed silently. Something had hit Taas and hit it hard. But high radiation? What had happened down there, a damned nuclear holocaust? Somehow, they had to get through those clouds to see what was happening on the planet's surface.

He put in a call to Stingray One's flight commander.

"Alyn here, Captain."

"Reese, have you been monitoring the situation?"

"Sure have. Quite a mess they've got down there."

"That's putting it mildly," Jonathan said. "Think you could get a couple of fighters through that hell?"

"I've got Jaris and Bryant standing by. They're two of my best. If anyone can fly through that, they can."

"Okay, Reese, stand by." Jonathan signaled Satra again. "Lieutenant, what chance would a fighter have down there?"

"It's hard to say, Captain. The ships are shielded against the radiation, but the winds could toss them around quite a bit, not to mention what a good-sized piece of debris might do if it were to get through their proximity screens."

Jonathan nodded. Even with the skill of the waiting pilots, those winds could mean trouble to the twenty-meter-long vessels.

What about a kilometer-long vessel, then? Stingray One's defense field could handle the debris, her power systems and batteries would appreciate a recharge from the radiation her EM-absorbent hull would encounter, and between her drive and the aerodynamics of her sleek wedge shape, she might even prove easy to fly through the maelstrom, although Jonathan would be happy simply to get her through the storm in one piece.

"Aerhom, this bird was designed for in-atmosphere flight, let's see what she can do under these conditions. Sensors, communications, look sharp."

Stingray One banked in toward the planet.

As the ship entered Taas's atmosphere, there was no physical sensation of movement; the gravity generators and inertial dampers were doing their jobs. But by calling up the artificial horizon indicator on the console in front of him, Jonathan could see the buffeting the ship was taking from the high winds.

They flew deeper into the whirlwind storm, and the main screen grew muddy with the blur of the wild clouds. Bright, electric-blue flashes burst momentarily against the turmoil, marking where the ship's proximity defense screens destroyed pieces of wind-borne debris. Nothing else showed in the chaotic, swirling tempest, and Jonathan was glad he hadn't sent fighters into the storm.

Slowly, the horizon indicator steadied, the power of the ship's drive overcoming the energy of the storm as they dropped closer to the surface of Taas. Finally the dense clouds thinned to a dirty, translucent haze, and Stingray One came to a halt, hovering a scant fifty meters above a choppy, white-capped body of gray water.

Jonathan eyed the telltales at his station. The winds had died down to mere hurricane force, the radiation count had dropped to the high end of tolerable, and the heavy banks of opaque, low-hanging clouds were limited to only an occasional small patch.

"Sensors, report."

"There's still a lot of interference, Captain, but I'm reading a land mass about five hundred kilometers to planetary east."

"Dakk, what have you got?"

"Communications are muddy, sir, but if there's a signal out there, we should be able to pick it up if we get close enough to the source."

"Aerhom, let's get over some land and see what we can find," Jonathan said.

Stingray One turned and flew to the east.

Moments later, the sensor officer reported, "We've got a lot of debris in the water ahead, Captain. Manmade materials, probably the remains of some kind of structure. And bodies, sir. Lots of bodies."

Bodies? Jonathan thought. What could that mean? Some kind of shipwreck or—?

"The underwater cities," he realized aloud. "Could whatever happened on the surface hit them, as well?"

"That doesn't seem possible, Captain," Satra said. "Unless something attacked Taas."

Which it must have, Jonathan realized.

"We still need some solid proof of that, Lieutenant," he said. "And, although I have a good idea who did it, I'd like to find some witnesses who can tell us what really happened."

The ship continued east over the rough, flotsam-littered waters, and then headed inland when they reached the shore.

Lit only by the dim sunlight filtering through the heavy shroud of violent weather that enveloped the planet, the land below appeared gray, barren, and flat. The powerful winds whipped up muddy funnel clouds and drove squalls of rain and debris across the dark, dead landscape.

Eventually, the ground began to rise, and the level plains gave way to rougher, rocky terrain that crested slowly into jagged foothills, and then developed into a range of soaring desolate mountains, the highest peaks hidden by the storm raging above. Nowhere was there any sign of life.

Stingray One started to climb, easing up the rocky barrier of the mountains.

"Captain, I've got something here." The voice of the communications officer whipped through the bridge like a shot, shattering the appalled silence. "It's a distress signal. Very weak, but definitely there. No response to my calls."

"Can you get a fix on it?"

"I think so. Just give me a moment…" He made fine adjustments to the instruments at his board. "And… got it." He read the heading aloud.

The source of the signal was north of their position, deep in the mountains.

Which makes sense, Jonathan thought. If anyone survived this catastrophe, they would need the shelter of the mountains… at least. Unfortunately, maneuvering through the valleys and narrow passes of the mountain range was not something Stingray One could do. He would have to use smaller ships to pinpoint the signal's source and attempt contact.

He signaled Commander Alyn. "Reese, have you still got those pilots standing by?"

"Awaiting your orders, Captain."

"We've picked up a distress signal. I want you to send out two fighters with reconnaissance packages to help triangulate its position and see what they can do about finding some survivors."

"Aye-aye, Captain. They're on their way."

"Very good, Commander. And Reese… tell them to be careful. It's still damned ugly out there."

"I'll give 'em the word. Alyn out."