Rebel's Quest (21 page)

“ETA to the Gantharian asteroid belt, four hours, Admiral,” the strawberry blond woman at the helm chimed in. “It’s been a smooth ride so far. Any last-minute changes, ma’am?” Lt. Commander Leanne D’Artansis asked, looking back over her shoulder. She was, despite her small frame, one of the best pilots in the Fleet. With Commander Owena Grey, she’d lived and worked on Gamma VI under Commodore de Vies’s command until Rae’s father had approached them. It had taken them only a few hours to travel from the space station to Corma, which was also Leanne’s home planet.

Fortunately, Leanne was well trained on the new high-velocity ships, having used the state-of-the-art simulators on Gamma VI. She arrived anticipating the mission and worried about her return to Corma. Rae knew that Leanne and Owena had visited Leanne’s mothers not long ago, and Owena had hinted that the relationship was a bit strained.

“No changes,” Rae now said. “Steady as she goes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The weapons’ arrays are charged and ready, Admiral,” Commander Grey reported. “We’ve made repairs to the rear cannons. They’re operating within normal parameters.”

“Good. Thank you, Commander.” Rae nodded toward the black-haired woman who stood with tall, lethal grace to her right. “Anything else I need to know about? The troops?”

“Marine units are gearing up. Their commanding officers are due in your office in an hour.”

“Good.” Rae liked the two female and one male officer that headed up the marines on this mission. Seasoned officers, having patrolled the border and dealt with well-equipped pirates in illegal high-speed tachyon-drive vessels, they were the best for this operation.

But do I know what to expect?
It was time-consuming to sift through the massive amount of intel from Gantharat for any gold nuggets. Kellen had tried to gain more information from her sources on Gantharat, but had learned little.

“New specs for the cloaked approach, Admiral.” Kellen interrupted her thoughts, as if she knew her wife was thinking about her. “The asteroid belt is in a constant state of flux, moving in a spiral pattern. I’ve estimated how we can enter it, which will provide ample shielding for us until we’re ready to engage the enemy.”

“Very well. Submit your calculations to Lieutenant Commander D’Artansis. Commander, adjust your course accordingly. We’ll need time to survey the situation planet-side before we approach the resistance.”

“Yes, ma’am.” After a brief pause D’Artansis continued, “Course adjusted, ma’am. The ride may get a bit bumpy.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Rae glanced over at Kellen. “It usually is.”

Kellen was stunningly beautiful in her SC Fleet uniform: black leather-like jacket, blue trousers tucked into knee-high black boots, and the shining new insignia of a lieutenant commander. Rae remembered their previous danger-filled mission to Gantharat, conducted in two altered pirate ships. They had run into both Onotharians and pirates during their journey, and in the end, Rae had barely escaped alive. Kellen had watched over her every minute she could possibly be away from the bridge. Rae grimaced. The pain in her neck, from irreparable damage done by an alien weapon, bothered her every now and then. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the face of the cruel Onotharian man, an officer in the OECS, and often woke up from nightmares about him, sweating profusely. Just before Kellen had killed him and saved Rae’s life, she had identified him as Trax M’Aldovar, but somehow it didn’t matter that he was dead. M’Aldovar’s deeds had scarred her.

The ensign at ops interrupted Rae’s thoughts. “We have an incoming encrypted message, Admiral.”

“Patch it through to my office, Ensign. Lieutenant Commander O’Dal, join me. Commander Grey, you have the bridge.”

Three “yes, ma’ams” in unison followed Rae as she strode over to the door leading into her office with Kellen right behind her. She rarely used it as an escape from the bridge. Through the narrow, tall windows, Rae could see the thin streaks of the stars they passed, but the room was impersonal, and since this wasn’t normally her ship, she hadn’t bothered to decorate it the way she used to when she was a captain aboard her own vessel.

“We’ll probably need this information to be able to join the fun,” Rae murmured.

Kellen took a seat across from Rae as she sat down at her alu-plexi desk and watched the spinning SC insignia fade. A stream of unintelligible text flooded the screen, and Rae turned it toward Kellen. “A resistance encryption?”

“Yes.” Kellen used the small keyboard to punch in a few commands, and one by one, the lines on the screen turned into Premoni, the official language of the Supreme Constellations.

“Read it out loud to me, please,” Rae said, and rubbed her temples.

“Very well.” Kellen pulled the screen closer. “Gantharian resistance to Supreme Constellations. Paladin, second in command of resistance cell 0011, requesting assistance. Confirm more than 6,500 resistance members, predominately senior officers, captured two weeks ago. One mission successfully completed. Forestalled shipment of prisoners to asteroid prisons. Reports of two thousand prisoner transports in progress. Onotharians in possession of new fleet of vessels, capable of transporting 750 individuals each. Specs included. Request you use encrypted messages sent on rotating frequencies, according to resistance movement protocols. End of message.”

“That’s not very detailed,” Rae sighed. “Seems like they really need us, though.”

“You need to get me to the surface to make contact with Paladin. I can easily find a transmitter and configure it to fit the resistance’s specifications. Once I make contact—”

“No,” Rae interrupted, and ran her fingertip along the encrypted message on the computer screen. “It’s too dangerous for you to go down there alone. You’re wanted by the OECS, among other things. If you’re captured alone, we might never hear from you again. We stay together.”

“You knew this mission would be dangerous,” Kellen said, frowning. “So what do you suggest?”

Rae knew what she intended to do, which, given the circumstances, was just as dangerous. No way was she giving the Onotharians an opportunity to imprison the last Protector of the Realm. Kellen would be the second-best catch, from a propaganda point of view, after Armeo M’Aido O’Saral. The thought of Kellen, defiant and not intending to reveal any information, in the OECS’s hands, made her furious. Kellen would withstand torture for days on end without ever giving them anything.

Rae tapped her fingernails on the desk as she met Kellen’s eyes with determination. “I’ll put together an away team consisting of you, Leanne, Owena, and me, and we’ll use Ensign Hammad’s medical skills with the derma fuser to turn us into Gantharians. It’ll be a superficial transformation, but it’s a good way to avoid detection at this stage.”

“We’ll be targeted for identification if anyone becomes even remotely suspicious,” Kellen objected.

“I know. We’ll have to be inconspicuous and not take unnecessary chances.”

“Should you go with us?” Kellen asked. “You’re in charge of this mission. If something happened to you—”

“I’m going.” Rae looked steadily at Kellen. “You’re my wife, my responsibility, not to mention you’re the Protector of the Realm. I will
not
sit idly by and let you put yourself at risk alone.”

“And if anything goes awry?”

Rae smiled. “Then we call in the marines.”

*

Kellen stood by the door to the small, state-of-the-art infirmary and regarded her wife with amazement. Rae’s usually calm, gray eyes were now brilliant blue, and her skin reflected the fake Gantharian blood cells by shimmering in the faintest of blue. Her red hair, unheard of among true Gantharians, was now black, with violet highlights, and with her thin lips and command presence, she was spectacular.

“I could walk right by my mother and she wouldn’t recognize me,” Leanne D’Artansis said, not without glee. Her hair was white-blond and her eyes crystal blue. The freckles on her nose were now almost invisible and the tinge to her skin similar to Rae’s. Leanne turned to look at Owena, her eyes widening. “Oh, and you look beautiful!”

Owena, tall and muscular, had natural black hair and blue eyes. Ensign Hammad had saturated her colors and also given her chiseled face an even stronger look.

“Owena, you look like the guardswomen that used to work as palace officers,” Kellen said. “I’m not so sure you can get by with that true Gantharian warrior look. The Onotharians may think you’re one of the few that got away.”

“I will deal with them if that happens,” Owena said with absolute confidence in her voice. The tactical chief had always carried herself with assurance, but only after she’d met Leanne and let the young Cormanian into her heart did she gain the calm self-esteem she now oozed.

“I bet you will.” Leanne grinned and swatted Owena’s arm. “And if you don’t, I will.”

“Here are civilian clothes, produced from Gantharian patterns. They’ll hold your weapons without being obvious.” Ensign Hammad brought them four piles of garments, and they quickly changed clothes, and then Kellen checked her appearance. She wore dark blue leather-like trousers and a white wool-lace sweater, and over it a long black caftan made of a thick sort of silk that farmers produced in the southern hemisphere. It withstood rain and even snow, and still allowed the skin to breathe. She felt quite at ease wearing the traditional clothes of her homeworld and rolled her shoulders to test their comfort. The other three dressed in similar clothes, but not completely alike.

“Admiral, I must scan you for any deficiency in the inoculations you went through during the preparation for this mission,” Ensign Hammad said, and pulled out a small tubular device. Two dark blue lights glimmered at one end, and it emitted a soft hum.

Rae looked sharply at her. “Any reason to suspect that we may run into foreign agents we can’t handle?”

“No, but we prepared with less time than usual, and regulations dictate that I make sure you’re sufficiently protected.” Hammad began to run the scanner up and down Rae’s body and looked pleased. “You’re clear, ma’am.”

“Good.” Rae oversaw the procedure with the other three, and Kellen knew she wouldn’t let any of them deploy to Gantharat unless things were done by the book.

“You’re all ready, Admiral.”

“Excellent.” Rae tugged her communicator. “Jacelon to shuttle bay. What’s the status of our assault craft?”

Kellen had personally made sure the two vessels awaiting them in the shuttle bay were handling at peak efficiency. She wasn’t worried and nodded, pleased, when the ensign in charge of ships’ maintenance affirmed that they were ready for action.

“Very well. Let’s go, then.” Rae gestured for them to gear up and move out.

Kellen shouldered her large security carrier and stepped into the narrow corridor. She walked behind Rae, easily keeping up with her wife’s brisk stride. They reached a ladder of steps welded into the bulkhead, where they climbed down two levels, and two turns later they entered the vast body of the destroyer that held its fleet of assault craft as well as six midsize transporter vessels. It smelled of metal and was hot, despite the large open area in the middle.

The crewman responsible for maintenance saluted them. “They’re ready for you, Admiral.”

“Good, Chief. We’ll try to bring them back in the same shape.”

“Appreciate that, ma’am.” The master chief checked that the stop-blocks were locked in place, then allowed the four women to climb the steps to the cockpits.

Kellen slid into the pilot’s seat, the chair encasing her body like a tight fist. She pulled the shoulder straps down over her chest and connected them with the short strap between her legs. The chair was one of the new prototypes, now being tested in action. If they had to eject in space, or into hostile environment, a force-field bubble immediately formed to keep the pilot and the navigator safe. It would stay intact even under plasma-pulse fire.

“O’Dal to bridge. Beginning quick-check.” They were in too much of a hurry to perform a disaster-check.

“Bridge here. Affirmative,” the captain of the
Gallant
responded.

Kellen went through the procedure, her mind now focused on making sure the assault craft was ready for the demands they would place on it. When she was done, she switched the screen over to eyewear mode. Closing her visor, she saw data appear at the left side of her field of vision and along the bottom. “You all set, Rae?” Kellen asked into her mike.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“O’Dal to bridge. Ready to commence takeoff.” Kellen flipped a few manual switches, recalibrating their sound system. There was some static, and then another voice came through.

“D’Artansis to bridge. Ready.”

Kellen had to smile at the eagerness in her friend’s voice. No matter how dangerous the circumstances, Leanne always sounded as if she was going treasure hunting with her best friends.
In a way she is. The lost treasure of Gantharian freedom.

“Bridge to assault-craft teams. You’re cleared for takeoff. Return safely.”

“Affirmative. We’re off. O’Dal out.” Kellen punched in the commands for automated takeoff, and the sleek vessel hovered for a few seconds before it plunged down the center chute, which launched it into space. Immediately they were surrounded by rocks and space debris of all sizes—some as large as the mountains behind her Gantharian estate, some hardly bigger than a fist.