The Rise of Earth (12 page)

Tea wagons
, he thought with a sigh.

“
Marcus
,
Camden
,
Hambrook
, maintain your position and await orders,” Tycho said sternly into his microphone. “This is the
Comet
—we've got your back.”

Captain Andrade's voice filled the channel. “
Berserker
,
Comet
, we're transmitting sensor data to you. We have four frigates, flying black transponders. Easy on the triggers and stick with your freighters.”

Tycho's eyes jumped to the main screen and the mysterious triangles off to port. Three were inbound, while
the fourth was hanging back, screened by the tumbling asteroids of the Cybeles.

“Bogeys are activating transponders,” Vesuvia said. “They are flying Earth colors.”

T
ycho could hear Huff's forearm cannon squealing.

“Verifying transponder codes,” Vesuvia said. “Bogeys identify as the
Loire
, the
Resolution
, the
Kerensky
, and the
Gracieux
.”

“Captain Allamand, I presume,” Diocletia said.

Tycho glanced at his mother in the captain's chair and saw Carlo's eyes turn that way as well. Diocletia's gaze was fixed on the main screen, but she said nothing
else, fingers steepled beneath her chin. The
Comet
was still Carlo's to command, and Tycho fought to keep a scowl off his face—his brother couldn't ask for a better opportunity to show off his piloting skills.

“Vesuvia, tag all four bogeys as hostile and beat to quarters,” Carlo said. “Mr. Grigsby, get the crews to their guns, but no firing till I give the word—and then let's not damage the merchandise.”

“Aye-aye, Master Carlo,” Grigsby said as the bosun's pipes shrilled. “We break it, we buy it.”

“Mr. Grigsby, one of the bandits is the
Kerensky
,” Carlo said. “We have some of her crewers belowdecks. What's their status?”

“They've given parole, Master Carlo. I trust them to honor that and not interfere. They've been sent to the wardroom to assist Mr. Leffingwell if needed.”

“Privateers, hold your positions and stay with your freighters,” Andrade said. “Don't let them split us up.”

“
Gracieux
's hanging back,” Yana said. “Other three are closing to combat range.”

“Mr. Grigsby, no blaster cannons,” Carlo said. “Missiles only.”

Mavry turned to Carlo.

“If you fire missiles within the convoy and one of those Earth ships breaks the missile lock—” he began, but Diocletia held up her hand, silencing him.

“Carlo's starship,” she said.

“Mr. Grigsby?” Carlo said into his headset. “Belay that last order and hold your fire.”

“Here they come,” Yana warned.

The three Earth frigates swooped out of the tumbling rock to port of the lumbering convoy, moving perpendicularly to the freighters. Tycho leaned forward in his seat as a bat-winged frigate—sensors painted it as the
Loire
—passed between the hoys and the dromond, waggling its wings but not firing.

“Arrogant Earth dogs!” roared Huff.

The middle hoy broke to starboard, forcing its neighbor to pull up.

“Back in formation!” Tycho yelled into the microphone.

“They're coming around for another pass,” Morgan Theo warned over the shared channel.

“The
Gracieux
's paralleling us, screened by the asteroids,” Yana warned. “She's creeping toward the head of the column.”

This time the
Loire
didn't pass through the convoy but turned her nose and joined it, flying just below the dromond's engine wash. The hoys' pilots screamed for the
Comet
to fire. Carlo's knuckles were white around the control yoke.

“Earth-flagged starships, this is a Jovian merchant convoy,” Captain Andrade said. “Your current maneuvers violate sections sixty-four through sixty-six of the interplanetary commercial code. If you do not immediately move outside the legally mandated hundred-kilometer navigational buffer, your actions shall be treated as hostile.”

“Garibalda's playing it by the book,” Mavry said. “Let's see what they do.”

“Arrr, what's on the starboard scopes?” Huff asked, peering at Yana's board.

“So far I have nothing—just the bandits that came in from portside.”

“So far,” Huff rumbled.

Ahead of them, the
Berserker
had dropped back to fly alongside the
Resolution
, keeping pace with the Earth warship. Tycho knew the two ships' gun crews were at their stations, waiting for the order to fire.

“Are they going to try to take the convoy?” Vass asked.

“They don't have enough ships,” Tycho said. “It's probably just harassment—they're hoping to provoke us. Don't you think so, Grandfather?”

“Arrr, depends if there are more of 'em to starboard. If I was Allamand, I'd look to cause chaos, then cut out a hoy or two to steal.”

Ahead of the
Comet
, the
Loire
cut her speed, dropping back behind the dromond and forcing the trio of hoys to break formation.

“And how would you do that?” Vass asked Huff warily. “Cut out a hoy, I mean?”

Huff inclined his chin toward the main screen. “By doin' what they're doin'.”

“Carlo—” Mavry began.

“I see it!”

The
Marcus
and the
Camden
nearly collided, while the
Hambrook
broke to starboard, her nose veering from side to side in the dromond's engine wash. The pilots were all hollering at the same time, their voices drowning each other out.

“Tycho, tell them to hold their positions!” Carlo said.

“They can't! Not with that bandit running them off course!”

The
Loire
raised her nose and accelerated through the dromond's wash, with the
Kerensky
flying alongside her. The two Earth frigates shot past the
Resolution
and Morgan Theo's
Berserker
, heading for the
Izabella
's position at the front of the convoy.

“Captain Andrade, you have bandits inbound,” Yana said.

“I see them,
Comet
,” Andrade said. “Maintain your position.”

“The
Gracieux
's on the move off to port, behind the asteroids,” Yana warned. “She's accelerating toward the front of the convoy.”

“It'll be three against one,” Carlo said. “We have to help the
Izabella
.”

All eyes turned to Diocletia—but she kept staring straight ahead, out at the blue blazes of the convoy's engines. Carlo was on his own.

The
Loire
and the
Kerensky
took up positions on either side of the
Izabella
as the three ships raced through the asteroid corridor at the front of the freighter convoy.

“Range between the
Gracieux
and the
Izabella
?” Carlo asked.

“Estimate eight hundred klicks and closing,” Yana said. “Sensor contact is unreliable with all this junk floating around out here.”

“Earth warships, disengage immediately or you will be treated as hostiles,” Captain Andrade said. “
Berserker
,
Comet
, prepare to detach tanks on my order.”

The bells
clang-clang
ed—it was 1700.

“All Jovian craft detach tanks,” Andrade said, her words going out not just to her fellow privateers but to the freighters and the Earth craft menacing them. “Respond to hostile actions accordingly.”

“You heard her, Vesuvia,” Carlo said. “Detach.”

“Acknowledged.”

A clank sounded above their heads and the
Comet
shook slightly as Vesuvia decoupled and retracted the fuel lines connecting the frigate to her long-range fuel tanks, then demagnetized the grapples.

Carlo rolled the
Comet
to port and then back to starboard, checking that she was maneuvering properly.

Tycho stared at the symbols on the main screen. If the Earth ships were going to break off, they'd most likely do so now—freed of their tanks, the Jovian privateers could match their maneuverability.

But the intruders maintained their positions.

“We're all burning fuel fast now,” Mavry said. “Whatever their play is, they'll have to make it soon.”

“Yana, what's the
Gracieux
doing?” Carlo asked.

“Still closing on the
Izabella
. Two hundred klicks.”

“And what else do you see on the scopes?”

“Only thing to port is the
Gracieux
. I have no readings to starboard.”

Carlo stared at the main screen for a long moment. Tycho understood his brother's dilemma. The convoy was undefended to starboard—yet the
Izabella
was badly outgunned ahead of them.

“I'm going after the
Gracieux
,” Carlo declared, swinging the
Comet
up and out of her place behind the convoy. “Tyke, tell the hoys to tuck in between the two bulk freighters and sit tight. Yana, eyes peeled.”

“Acknowledged,” Tycho said.

Carlo banked the
Comet
between a pair of tumbling rocks, then cut hard to the right to avoid a scree of ice, accelerating hard enough to press them back into their seats. Behind him, Tycho heard a yelp and a series of thuds.

“What was that?” Diocletia demanded.

“Yer pet spy fell down the ladderwell,” Huff rumbled.

“Oh, for God's sake.”

Wherever Vass had ended up, things weren't getting any easier for him—Tycho's stomach lurched as the
Comet
dipped below a slab of ancient black rock, then rolled over onto her port wing.

“
Comet
, return to your position,” Captain Andrade said. “We've got all we can handle over here.”

“It's time Captain Allamand learned that we won't be pushed around,” Carlo replied. “And I'll be nearby if you need me.”

“Seven hundred klicks and closing between us and
the
Gracieux
,” Yana said. “She's still paralleling the
Izabella
and the other two Earth ships.”

“Let me know when she sees us coming,” Carlo said, slapping at his comm controls. “Mr. Grigsby, we are closing on a bandit. Hold your fire, though—for now we're just trying to run her off.”

“Got it, Master Hashoone.”

“Five hundred klicks,” Yana said. “The
Gracieux
's breaking to port. Heading deeper into the asteroid field.”

“Pursuing,” Carlo said.

“The hoys' captains are demanding that we return,” Tycho said.

“They'll be fine—all the action's up at the front of the convoy,” Carlo said. “Vesuvia, give me more power. Don't sweat the fuel efficiency—I need to catch that bandit.”

“Acknowledged.”

“
Gracieux
's still running,” Yana said. “But we're faster than she is—distance four hundred klicks.”

“And we've got a better pilot,” Carlo said, sending the
Comet
into a barrel roll to duck a scattering of rock.

“Three hundred klicks,” Yana said. “
Gracieux
is turning to heading two-seven-niner.”

Carlo banked to port, altering the
Comet
's course with a casual grace that Tycho envied.

“Two hundred klicks,” Yana said. “We should have a visual soon.”

As the distance between the two ships shrank, Tycho alternated glances between the sensor scope and the
chunks of rock and ice filling the main screen.

“
Comet
!” yelled Captain Andrade. “We are under attack!”

Carlo looked up in shock. “What?”

“The
Loire
and the
Kerensky
have opened fire on the
Izabella
,” Yana said, fingers drumming on her keyboard. “The
Resolution
and the
Berserker
are exchanging fire as well.”

“Range to the
Gracieux
?” Carlo demanded.

“One hundred fifty klicks,” Yana said. “She's maintaining the same heading.”

“Which is takin' us away from the fight,” Huff muttered.

Carlo turned to look at his mother. Suddenly all the hoy pilots were yelling at once over Tycho's channels.

“
Marcus
, say again,” Tycho said, trying to make sense of the cacophony. “Convoy is reporting multiple sensor contacts,” he told the rest of his family.

“Contacts from where?” Carlo asked, diving under a trio of boulders.

“I have no reading,” Yana said. “We're too far away.”

“Pilots say they came from starboard,” Tycho said. “Multiple small attack craft.”

Carlo brought one fist down on his console.

“Do you need me to take back command?” Diocletia asked him.

Carlo looked at his mother, his face gone pale, and Tycho felt sorry for his brother—even though the mistakes he'd made would benefit Tycho in the Log. Could
he really say he wouldn't have tried to hunt down the
Gracieux
, as Carlo had done?

“I'm fine, Captain,” Carlo said, yanking back on the control yoke and cutting hard to starboard. “We're on our way,
Izabella
.”

“Look out!” Mavry yelled.

A pillar of rock loomed ahead of the frigate, a dark shape against the stars. Carlo tried to dodge beneath it, but the Hashoones bounced in their harnesses and a sound like the blow from a giant hammer left the hull ringing. The
Comet
shuddered with a low groan of distressed metal, followed by the hooting of alarms.

“Impact,” Vesuvia said. “Dorsal hull, port side.”