Peter Telep - Pilgrim stars

Tactical Officer Makorshk had predicted that the supercruiser would go to the Hell's Kitchen system, to a planet called Neth-eryana, to a Pilgrim enclave called Triune that stood directly in the supercruiser's last known trajectory. At tremendous risk, they had jumped back to Lafayette, moved on to Montrose, then on to Pephedro. Vukar felt certain that they had been spotted by Confederation reconnaissance probes, but he also felt certain that if they kept moving, they would remain relatively safe. He had already driven his battle group to its limit and had lost the Fralthi-class cruiser Caxkolee along the way. The ship's drive system had malfunctioned, and those warriors assigned to her had been transferred to the battle group's remaining six cap ships. As usual, they had set the cruiser to self-destruct to avoid its confiscation and study by the apes. Vukar wished they could hide the cruiser's debris from Confederation detection, but he lacked the time and resources for such a massive clean-up operation in enemy territory.

"Distance to jump point?" he asked Makorshk.

"Two-point-nine kilometers. Jump in three-point-zero-one standard minutes. All ships report positive lock on target. Final course corrections have been initiated. Jump commitment will occur in exactly three-point-one-one standard minutes, my Kalralahr."

Vukar flexed his fingers impatiently. He pictured himself seizing the supercruiser's captain by the neck and lifting him into the air. He would strangle the life out of the ape, demonstrating that their species had at least one tenet in common: justice through revenge. He stole another look at his tactical officer and considered the second fang's demise should the calculations prove wrong. For ten long days Vukar had placed his trust in the young warrior. On the other side of the jump point lay Makorshk's fate, and Vukar suspected that his subordinate knew that. Three days ago, the second fang had come to Vukar's ready room to assure him that their course was logical. Vukar had not wanted to hear about logic. He had asked Makorshk what his heart told him.

"My heart tells me nothing," Makorshk had replied.

"Listen more closely."

"As you wish."

"Fail to listen, fail to rely on your instincts, then you fail. This is the way of Sivar."

Since then, Vukar sensed that the second fang had reweighed his primitive beginnings and might draw on them now as a source of power. Makorshk had not come to Vukar with this revelation, but the glimmer in the young warrior's eyes seemed generated by an innate energy and not by thoughts of self-satisfaction. Makorshk had finally committed his heart to the hunt.

"Time?" Vukar asked the second fang.

"Thirty seconds to jump point."

"Mute the alarm before it sounds."

Makorshk threw a switch. "Alarm muted."

"All stations at pre-jump readiness," reported Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki. "Escorts confirm that Point of No Return velocity for Hell's Kitchen jump point has been achieved."

Syl'rkai, the present radar officer, suddenly lifted his voice. "Kalralahr? We have acquired a contact bearing one-one-two by three-three-seven at a range of nine-point-four-one kilometers. Velocity is two one four KPS. It is a Confederation communications drone broadcasting a holographic message on multiple long-range frequencies. Language: Terran standard."

"Helm is locked to autojump system," Second Fang Yil'schk cut in with his necessary report.

Vukar swiveled his chair to face Syl'rkai. "Translate that message and route to bridgecomm."

The communications officer grunted his acknowledgment and beat a near-steady rhythm on his touchpad to initiate the command.

"Twenty seconds to jump point," Makorshk said.

Vukar narrowed his gaze on Syl'rkai. "Do you have the message?"

"Message translated and stored," the officer said. "Routing to bridgecomm."

A meter-wide disk located on the deck in front of Vukar's command chair began to palpitate with light, then a shimmering white column coalesced into a tall, gray-haired ape standing on the bridge of a Confederation supercruiser. The ape folded his arms over his chest and stared angrily at Vukar. His lips moved, and after a nanosecond delay, the translator engaged. "Captain Amity Driftmadien Aristee, Confederation ID number 225X741, you are hereby ordered to surrender your vessel at the nearest Confederation world. Should you fail to comply by calendar date one-five-eight, we will destroy every Pilgrim system and enclave and imprison every known Pilgrim within Confederation territory."

"Ten seconds to jump point," Makorshk shouted over the message.

"By the time you receive this, we will have already established no-fly zones around each of those settlements, which are, as you know, dependent upon imports. Don't force your people into suffering, and don't be the cause of their deaths. You may have little regard for your own life, but think of them. Do what's right for them." The ape took a step forward, his face growing tighter, more intense. "I assure you, we're not bluffing. I invite you to initiate long-range reconnaissance to confirm our presence, and I look forward to your reply. Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn, Chief of Fleet Operations, out."

"We're at the jump point," Makorshk cried, as the ship began to shudder. "We'll reach the gravity well's PNR in ten, nine, eight, seven, six-"

Vukar shot to his feet. "Abort the jump!"

Makorshk tilted his large head in confusion.

"Aborting jump," said Helmsman Yil'schk.

Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki's voice came in a wheeze. "Relaying abort order to battle group."

"PNR reached!" Makorshk said.

"Jump drive will not shut down," said Yil'schk. "Override clock exceeded. We are committed to the jump."

"Alert all ships to immediately set course for-" Vukar heard himself finish the command, but all activity on the bridge had already ceased. His vision lasted but another second before narrowing into a world of speckled darkness. The weight of his armor lifted from his shoulders, and the bindings on his boots no longer pinched. Even the sweet aroma of nutrient gas had been neutralized into a smell that was no smell. He pricked up his ears, straining to hear something. A distant rumble finally sounded, grew louder, then suddenly roared as he coughed, blinked off flashes of piercing light, then leaned onto his command chair.

"Jump completed," Makorshk said. "Drive systems nominal."

"Escorts report successful jump," added Comm officer Ta'kar'ki.

"Relay order for all ships to stalk. Low emissions. Run ultra quiet," Vukar ordered breathlessly. "Navigation? Helm? Set course for Hell's Kitchen jump point." He strode quickly toward the viewport to examine the shining dots of the system dead ahead. The jump point lay within that system, a gravity well about twenty thousand kilometers from the planet Netheryana.

"Jump point data is already in our system," Makorshk said. "Jump calculations will be available in approximately four minutes. We'll reach jump point in four-point-four minutes. Request permission to scan for ion emissions and gravitic residuum."

"Passive scans only," Vukar snarled. "You heard the ape. They've established no-fly zones around each of the Pilgrim enclaves and systems-including this one. We've just jumped head on into a Confederation battle group."

"No, Kalralahr. Passive imager has already detected three Confederation capital ships-only three," Makorshk said, bearing his fangs. "Largest contact identified as the CS Tiger Claw. Other two are Exeter-class destroyers CS Oregon and CS Mitchell Hammock."

"Navigation? Plot evasion course to jump point."

"We're not going to engage?" Makorshk asked, his tan eyes paling in surprise. "One strike carrier and two destroyers are an easy kill."

Heads turned toward the second fang who dared question his admiral's orders.