Peter Telep - Pilgrim stars

Gerald shifted to the sofa, retrieved the terminal's remote, and hit pause. "The Olympus}" he asked Paladin. "She's commanded by Amity Aristee. I know her. Amazing record. What happened?"

Paladin gestured with his glass toward the monitor. "Listen…"

"1 sent out a small task force, including the destroyer Chippewa, to investigate," Tolwyn continued. "They have yet to report and may have been taken out by the Olympus. Mr. Gerald, it is the joint chiefs' consensus that Amity Aristee has committed acts of treason against the Confederation. We've dug deeply through her records, and despite her extreme efforts to conceal her ancestry, we've discovered that she is, in fact, a Pilgrim. It's clear to us now that Bill Wilson's betrayal was just the beginning of a resurgence of Pilgrim theology and aggression."

Gerald stopped the message once more. "You're telling me she's a Pilgrim and that she gained control over her entire ship- with over seven hundred personnel on board? That's ridiculous. The crew would mutiny."

Paladin cocked a brow. "Unless, of course, many of them were already Pilgrims. Wilson's failure to have the Kilrathi destroy Earth triggered her into action. She's been waiting a long time for this."

"Maybe so. But there's no way she could replace her ship's complement without-"

"Mr. Gerald, we're not saying Aristee did this overnight. Oh, no. She started over four years ago, the day she assumed command of the Olympus. One by one she replaced her entire command staff with officers who are either Pilgrims or Pilgrim sympathizers. Then she moved on to the enlisted. She couldn't replace them all, but enough to serve her purpose. We have the names and the transfer orders to prove it."

"If this is true, how many other cap ships are Pilgrim time bombs waiting to go off?"

"Intell's already looking into that."

"What you ought to do is round up every goddamned citizen of Pilgrim ancestry and place them in protective custody."

"Don't you mean under arrest? Consider the logistics involved, not to mention the human rights issues."

"Seems to me that Pilgrims lost their rights when they decided to murder six million people."

"We can't blame every citizen of Pilgrim ancestry for what a few zealous individuals have done."

"I wouldn't call three, four, maybe five hundred a few. And what about the Olympus's escorts? Survivors here reported that the ship operated alone."

Paladin pursed his lips. "We're not sure. She couldn't replace the officers aboard those ships since escorts rotate so frequently, and that kind of breach in protocol would call too much attention to herself. She may have destroyed them."

"What does she hope to gain? She's got control of one super-cruiser. Does she think she can bring down the Confederation with it? Does she think she can get near Earth?"

"She's on a crusade, a jihad to win back the holy land, Mr. Gerald. And she's recruiting individuals as she goes-that's why some citizens on Mylon Three were taken prisoner. They were part of the elect: people of Pilgrim ancestry whom she intends to sway back to the cause. She's especially looking for Confed Naval officers of Pilgrim descent. I don't believe she'll attack Earth with just one supercruiser, but she is building a force."

"How long does she think she can evade us? We have enough ships to post at every known jump point in this entire sector. She comes through, we got her."

"Maybe she'll leave the sector. And don't forget that she doesn't need known jump points. She can jump pulsars and other uncharted wells without NAVCOM coordinates. She's a Pilgrim."

Gerald snickered. "Like you." He thumbed the remote, and the admiral continued:

"Long range reconnaissance reports that Aristee is now at Lethe in the Tartarus system, waging the same war she waged on Mylon Three. You are hereby ordered to Lethe and instructed to use any means necessary to disable that ship. We want her back intact, Mr. Gerald. The destroyers Mitchell Hammock and Oregon will rendezvous with you there. Good hunting. Tolwyn out."

"Tartarus is on the border between Downing and Day quadrants, four jump points from here," Gerald reminded the commodore. "Aristee will be long gone by the time we get there."

"I'll get us there in a single jump," Paladin said, then started for the hatch.

VEGA SECTOR.DOWNING QUADRANT BORDER. CS OLYMPUS. TARTARUS SYSTEM.

2654.079.2300 HOURS CONFEDERATION STANDARD TIME

"Remember Peron! Remember Peron! Remember Peron!"

William Santyana stood on a catwalk that overlooked the Olympus's flight deck. He tugged at his ill-fitting Confederation utilities and stared down at the twenty-four pilots who, standing at attention, continued to shout their battle cry. Captain Amity Aristee paraded before the two squadrons, having just delivered a speech laced with enough anti-Confederation sentiments to upset even a politically apathetic person's stomach. "Go now!" she ordered. "Deliver our message."

The pilots scattered toward their waiting Rapier starfighters, some still shouting about Peron, an agricultural colony in the Luyten system that represented the Pilgrim's last stand in the old war. For seven months Pilgrims had held fast against brutal sorties and counter-offensives. More Pilgrims died defending Peron than in any other engagement, an engagement eventually known as a massacre, an engagement they had clearly not forgotten. Santyana's parents, both Pilgrims who had actively fought in the war, had thankfully not been anywhere near Peron during the attack. After the Pilgrim Alliance's surrender, they had resignedly moved to Divinity, a Pilgrim enclave in the Tamayo system, where Santyana had been raised. By fifteen, he had grown weary of their fanatical teachings and had run away. He had worked for three years as a longshoreman, offloading cargo cruisers. By eighteen, he had tested his way into the Space Naval Academy on Hilthros. And by nineteen, he had learned of his parents' deaths in a freak shuttle crash. An only child, Santyana often wished he had a family member to whom he could turn for support. But his surviving relatives had disowned him for joining the Confederation military. Five years ago he had found Pris, a blonde vision who had somehow been born with the missing piece of his soul. When they had met, he had only two years of Confederation service left, opting to discharge after two five-year tours. He had wanted to settle down, farm the land, escape the rigidity of military life.

"You got business up here?"

Santyana faced the wiry, baggy-eyed deck boss who had addressed him. The man's Pilgrim cross dangled from a chain around his neck and seemed wholly out of place against his bright green uniform.

"I said, you got business up here?"

"I don't know. Couple Marines dragged me out of my quarters and left me here. Told me to wait for her." He tipped his head toward Amity Aristee, who climbed a steep staircase leading to the catwalk.

"You Santyana?"

"That's right."

"Heard a lot about you. Test-piloted the first B model Rapiers. You were the leading war ace for, what was it? Two consecutive years?"

"Three. But that was a while ago."

"I read they gave you quite a send-off."

"Yeah, they did. And I'm still retired."

"So you think. And what the hell were you doing on a farm anyway? Good thing we saved you from playing with dirt. Now you can put your skills to work for the elect."

"I don't plan on flying for anyone right now, whether they be divinely or militarily inspired."

"And why is that?" Aristee asked, pulling her plum-black hair into a ponytail and fastening it with a small band. Like the deck boss, she wore a Pilgrim cross that hung between the gold buttons of her dark-blue uniform, and the juxtaposition-the contradiction-awed Santyana.