SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

“I’ve invested two years cleaning up the run through Min and Charon,” she said. “And we both know the workload is scheduled to increase dramatically. I’m not handing that over without a fight.”

She stopped when Greely held a hand up, “The UEE wants us to find ways to enfranchise independents in those systems. You want to argue that point, do it with the politicians. But right now, I need a mission brief, and I think we’d all appreciate this meeting moving along quickly.”

Brock let the major win the point. If nothing else, she knew when to pick her battles. There was nothing to be gained from antagonizing him. There were more profitable targets for her ire. Content with the cool tenor of the meeting, she turned her attention to Gavin Rhedd.

“Yes, well,” the young man cleared his throat. His forehead glistened where it met his close-cropped hair. “I’ve read through the, uh…the After Action Reports.” Rhedd swiped through several projections on an old clunker of a mobiGlas. “Every ten days we escort a new shift rotation to the Haven research facility on Tyrol V. But what can you tell me about the security requirements for the staff transfer between the transport ships and Haven?”

The kid didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Maybe her Tyrol contract wasn’t quite the lost cause Major Greely made it out to be. Brock’s smile felt genuine as she started describing the ship-to-settlement transfer process.

This job was going to eat Rhedd Alert Security alive.

Min System was dark. In Goss, the jump points flowed with shimmering cascades of color. They boiled the Olympus Pool’s bands of gold, amber and blood-orange in a dazzling display of celestial mystery. Min, on the other hand, was entirely different, and Gavin wondered how many ships and lives Min’s jump gates had claimed before they were successfully charted.

The approach was well marked now. Nav beacons lit a ten-kilometer channel leading six Rhedd Alert escorts and their charge, a Constellation Aquila with UEE designations, to the jump gate. The automated beacons broadcast a steady stream of navsat and transit status data in addition to lighting the visual entry vector.

The gate itself loomed large. It was an empty disc, invisible if not for the faint light from the beacons. That light bent, distorting into the maw of interspace that, if entered correctly, would disgorge them out into the Charon System. Stumbling onto an unknown jump point had to be a terrifying experience. He’d seen images of dark gates, like the ones in Min, when the beacons were offline. Even knowing what to look for in those images, it was difficult to distinguish the subtle smudge that represented a portal through time and space.

“Gate Authority Min,” Gavin read from a scripted authorization request, “this is Rhedd Alert Security, performing in compliance with Naval Systems Command regulations, approaching VFR and in support of UEE research vessel Cassiopeia . Request clearance for transit from Min to Charon and confirmation of the approach.”

They didn’t need the call and response to make the jump to Charon, but their contract required record of specific communications at all jump gates, as well as of the UEE staff transfers at each end of the run.

The gods only knew how many times he and Walt had hopped systems unannounced. In reflection, it probably should have felt strange entering a jump gate with legal tags and without local law breathing down his neck. But times change, and if Gavin got his way, they were changing for the better.

He received the expected challenge and responded with ship IDs that matched the tags for each member of the convoy. Gavin had stumbled over the formal exchanges on the first few missions. No one had complained, but he felt better now that he had a degree of comfort with the cadence and timing of the exchange. Hopefully, that degree of comfort inspired confidence in his new pilots and the UEE scientists aboard the Cassiopeia .

They got their clearance and Gavin sent the order to enter the jump gate. He took point with Jazza, each of them in place along either side of the Aquila. They slid into the gate with a familiar falling sensation. The cockpit seemed to stretch, elongating out and away from him in a rush of sound and color. It felt like someone had set a hook in his insides and pulled, stretching his gut tighter and tighter. Then something snapped and he was reacquainted with the increasingly familiar constellations of Charon space.

“Gate Authority Charon,” he said, “this is Rhedd Alert—”

“Gavin,” Jazza’s voice was crisp. He was already checking his navsat displays when she continued, “We’ve got three ships inbound. Three hundred kilometers. Make that two-fifty! Gods, they’re moving fast.”

“Jazz, take Mei and Rahul to see what our new friends want. Walt, you and Boomer play goalie. If these guys take a run at the Cassiopeia , make them reconsider.”

A chorus of “copy that” erupted on comms and Gavin switched channels to address the UEE crew aboard the transport. “ Cassiopeia , this is Red One. Accelerate in line with my mark and do not deviate from course.”

“Contact,” Jazza sounded calm, clinical. “They’ve got three F7 Hornets in a variety of configurations. They’re beat to hell with patchwork armor, but coming in fast.”

“They have any markings or insignia? What are their tags?”

“Nothing I can see through the mismatch of weapons and scrap parts.”

“Look out, they’re firing!” Mei said. “Holy hells, these guys are quick.”

“Gav,” Walt asked, “do we run?”

The After Action Reports from Brock showed a steady decrease in aggressive actions over time. Letting a new pirate outfit establish a foothold at one of their critical jump points seemed like a very bad idea.

“We fight,” he said. “We can’t afford to retake this ground every two weeks if we run scared now.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast,” Jazza said. “It’s three-on-three over here, and it seems these guys like to play with their food.”

“Walt,” Gavin said. “Take point. If they have friends, I don’t want to get herded into a trap.”

“Copy that.”

“All right, Jazz. I’m on my way to you.” Gavin pulled up hard, inverted over the Cassiopeia and accelerated toward the jumble of fighters.

Gavin had survived dozens of scraps before starting Rhedd Alert, but always as the aggressor. Being on the defensive was something new. It seemed strange that these crazy bastards were hitting six armed escorts.

“Jazza,” he was a couple hundred clicks out and had a good look at the scrum, “I’m coming up underneath you. Time to make this an unfair fight.”

“These guys are good, Gavin.” She grunted and her Cutlass rolled in a loose corkscrew, putting her behind one of the marauders. She fired and its shields blazed. It pitched, nose down and thrusters reversing, to push up and above Jazza’s ship. The other two marauders swung into position on either side, and the three of them slashed toward Gavin like a knife blade.

He rolled to his port side and tried to accelerate around them. At least they couldn’t all fire on him at once that way. Rahul strafed overhead, pouring fire into one of the Hornets, but the marauders held their formation.

“Jazza, form up on me. Let’s split these bastards up.”

“Got it.”

They met and swept around to rush the trio of mismatched Hornets. The marauders found Mei before he and Jazza were in firing range.

“Ah, hell…”

A barrage of precise bursts from wing-mounted laser cannons tore into Mei’s ship. It ripped entire sections from the hull, and escaping oxygen belched out in a roiling ball of flame.