Whatever Karim was expecting when Captain Kovarova Vermalen came to meet him in his quarters, it wasn’t this. Karim had set out his usual spread of discomforting dishes interspersed with less insipid options. But it’s what Vermalen brought to the table that truly shocked him.

  “I’m not sure what to make of all this,” said a bewildered Karim, staring at a telemetry report on the wallscreen showing the destruction of Lyonesse Station played in reverse.

  “I have had some of my technicians aboard The Relentless give a triple pass of this data,” said Vermalen, herself pensive while thumbing through the feed via her terminal. Finally, she stopped the playback just after the moment The Kolkata’s wake cannons tore the station apart. “I only just discovered this myself and planned to show you when you began your inspection of my vessel.”

  Karim was dumbfounded, unsure whether this was just theatre, some other stall tactic, or a sincere matter.

  “Look here,” Vermalen said, highlighting a section just aft of the station, “this part of the station was obscured from The Kolkata’s sensors at the time of the blast. My own ship only just caught the edge of it and was able to reconstruct the rest.”

  In the seconds just before the blast, a ship that had been hiding in the shadow of the station sprung to life, fired up its main drive, and attempted to flee. A foolish attempt as it had been far too late to avoid the wake.

  “You’re saying we destroyed some pirates in the blast? I thought all of them got away with Aiden.”

  “Pirates, maybe. Scavengers, definitely. I’m not certain what their affiliation was.”

  “It’s obvious that Aiden just left them there to die,” Karim scoffed, unsure how to feel about having ordered a ship of potential innocents to their deaths. “What does this mean for the fleet? Why hide this from me until now?”

  “That’s the thing, Admiral. I wasn’t certain who I should share this with at first, whether it would look poorly on your command at all.”

  “You think I would have acted differently, if I’d known Aiden had been using these citizens as a shield?” Karim pressed.

  “I don’t mean to cast judgement, my point in all this is this; that the wake signature on the vessel seems to place their transit path originating from the Bedelajara system,” said Vermalen.

  Karim considered that. If Aiden and his forces had passed through here, and recently, they might have retreated through here as well, laying a trap as they did. That brought into question another matter, that of the strange device’s origin. He thought for a moment whether he should share the device’s existence with Vermalen. Ultimately, and despite his current vendetta against der Waals and her potential culpability, she had proven a modicum of professionalism and dedication to the Fleet’s current objective. He decided to compartmentalise.

  “I have something as well,” Karim said, bringing up an image of the device on his quarters’ wallscreen. “This was also found in Tristan, in the debris of Lyonesse. It is broadcasting a rift based signal of Sonne origin, but so far we’ve been unable to discern it’s message.”

  Vermalen watched the image of the device as it rotated, taking it all in before she spoke. For once, the woman didn’t seem anxious, but atypically relaxed.

  “Sonne?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Plainly,” Karim said.

  “These have to be connected,” she posited, “the device, and the ship that came from here to Lyonesse. I bet this was brought here by them.”

  “And its activation now upon bringing it back here?” Karim asked.

  “There has to be something else here, some sort of presence that the device is responding to.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I’m not sure, Admiral. But I would be extremely cautious approaching that waystation.”

  “You think we should turn around?”

  Vermalen considered that. “No,” she said, “we have nothing concrete to go on at the moment aside from speculation. It would look bad on us and the Fleet to turn around based on a hunch.”

  Karim let out a low breath. It seemed that all he found when turning over rocks were more rocks to turn.

  “I have one more thing I wanted to discuss with you, apart from the inspection,” said Karim.

  Vermalen’s anxiety returned as her eyes met his and it was immediately obvious that she knew what he meant.

  “I’m not here to cause you to trip, to corner you, or to lock you in a cage,” Karim said, attempting to dispel some of her tension. He could have her arrested, locked away on Bill Mostro’s testimonial alone. But more importantly what he needed was her cooperation. “I was hoping we could work together.”

  “Admiral, I–” Vermalen started.

  “Need I remind you who is in command now?” Karim said firmly, “You don’t answer to der Waals anymore.”

  “I regret my actions, truly,” she said, slumping into her seat, “but were things to happen the same way again– I’d just be right back here in this hot seat across from you. But, yes. I am loyal to the fleet, and to the command. I will answer what you ask, whatever consequence it has on me.”

  “Good,” Karim said, “then why don’t you start with how der Waals got in bed with Aiden.”

  Vermalen took a belaboured breath before speaking; “He found me on Flotsam Station, at the other edge of Sovereignty space. I was a Merchant Fleet Lieutenant there, you see, serving in the meager Station Security Forces. I commanded a small unit of seven including one Sergeant Lisa Hutteno. It was a quiet job, managing the flow of people on and off the small station, doing freight checks, and acting as liaison between the Fels miners and the Sovereignty traders.”

  “That was until Francis Aiden and Saul Calmos came through there and shot up the place. They even hired some terrorist to set off a bomb in one of the central corridors. The carnage that caused… it wasn’t until far too late that I realised that was a diversion. By that point Sergeant Hutteno was gone, the rest of my men were dead, and those pirates had escaped with a few measly crates.”

  “Did your Sergeant Hutteno pursue them?” Karim asked.

  “No. Video feed of the hangar showed her taking a round to the torso and collapsing. It was Calmos that took her, gods know why.”

  “And what of the crates– what were they there to steal?”

  “The manifests of the freighter – The Par Abadd – mark the contents as quell diamond. But in truth what the video showed was on the inside is far more valuable.”

  Karim leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Seafood, and some other livestock from Old Earth.”

  Karim sat back in his seat, suddenly disenchanted by that news.

  “Why would pirates go through the trouble of stealing that?” he asked. “Any trader would know they can source true-to-form seafood on any number of factory farm stations.”

  “I believe now that they were just as surprised as we were,” she explained, “at least that’s what I gathered from their arguing on the feed.”

  “So Calmos and Aiden stole from you, killed your men. Then what?”

  “They left,” Vermalen said. “I investigated what had happened for months before anything came of it. I eventually uncovered Aiden’s true identity and who had hired him to get in bed with Calmos. That’s when The Commodore found me.”

  “The timing on that is glaring,” Karim admitted, trying not to react to the surges of anticipation. “Who was Aiden?”

  “Believe me, Admiral, that’s not lost on me either,” Vermalen said, before following up with, “and he was–is Captain Garfield Pates, former commander of Calmos’ last command before he turned pirate, The TMN Diggory.”

  “So these two men knew each other. What makes you think this Captain Pates was in bed with someone else?”

  “I traced his identity to a bar he owned under a pseudonym. It was there we found an old terminal of his that looked to have died only weeks earlier. On it we found bulletins between him and a navel relay that led straight back to The Mercurial. It was his sloppiness and procrastination to wipe an old device that gave me that in.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Then der Waals came and scooped you up and paid you off with a promotion,” Karim said, an eyebrow raised.

  “I’ll admit that at first yes, he offered and I took the pay-off. I was drowning on that station. There’s a reason they call it Flotsam – where lost things go to tread water,” she explained, “Eventually though I believed I could uncover more from the inside if he trusted me.”

  “So der Waals hired Aiden to… spy on a pirate?”

  “From what I understand Aiden was hired before Calmos came into the picture. Calmos’ involvement must have been fate. No, Aiden –or Pates– was hired to steal the cargo in exchange for reinstatement.”

  “I find it hard to believe that der Waals wanted some ancient seafood that badly,” Karim scoffed.

  “The Commodore might have just been acting under the direction of another,” Vermalen said, matter-of-factly. “The who is what I’ve been trying to figure out. And from what I understand it was supposed to end there, but Aiden took things and ran with it. It wasn’t until Calmos was out of the picture and Aiden was in our custody that The Commodore struck a deal with him to work together. The Commodore wanted a pirate as a pet to help deliver him Moby.”

  “Moby?” Karim asked.

  “It’s what they call their lawless colony,” she said, “and ever since he let Aiden back into the wild with those Letters of Marc, he’s been requisitioning more weapons, more ships, more, more, more.”

  Karim thought for a moment, the news weighing heavy on him. He had expected more of a fight from Vermalen, and less information to come pouring out. He stood, letting out a longer breath.

  “Thank you, Kovarova,” he said, “your insights will prove invaluable.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” she said, sheepishly trying to hold his stare.

  “Nothing, for now. Prove to me that you hold the Fleet above all else and help me get to the bottom of who’s pulling der Waals’ strings and I’ll see to it that you get a full pardon,” Karim said. “Cross me though, and I’ll see you sent back to that station until retirement.”

  Vermalen nodded and hastily left his quarters and The Kolkata without another question, leaving him with a pile of untouched biryani and steamed tough chicken in an unpalatably bitter berry sauce.

  …

  “Forty-eight minutes until intercept,” said Chaasker as Karim retook his station on the bridge.

  The intervening days had amounted to little more than what he had already gained from his dinner with Captain Vermalen aside from a subtle affirmation that Ken Fawes was drumming up support in the background in favour of der Waals’ silent authority over his own. It was troubling, to be sure, but Karim had to focus on the conflict that stood directly before him, to not allow the root of his problems slip away.

  He had finished his inspections of the remaining vessels of the Third Fleet, and all seemed sound and fit for a fight. Even his dear Admiral Kaur would have been impressed with the combat readiness that existed now under his command.

  They were coming up on the waystation, matching its trajectory through the system and its full image shone on the wallscreen in crystal-clear resolution. This close the shroud of light delay had dropped and he could see The Yesteryear reacting in real-time, or rather, not reacting.

  “What are they doing?” Karim asked Chaasker as der Waals’ image hung on the wallscreen. This time however, Karim had invited Bill Mostro to join him, an invitation that der Waals had swallowed with poorly masked scorn.

  “Nothing, Admiral,” answered Chaasker. “The Yesteryear remains dormant, and I’m reading near-zero radiation from the waystation itself.”

  “Not so much as an oven light,” chirped der Waals.

  “No outbound communications?” asked Karim.

  Chaasker shook her head.

  “I would have expected them to have at least called for aid,” said Karim. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Karim thumbed through the readings on his personal terminal. Again, nothing stood out.

  “So we move in then?” asked Mostro.

  “Open a bulletin to The Yesteryear. Let’s see if they’ve changed their minds,” Karim ordered, only for the connection request to be unanswered. Instead, seconds later Karim received a text only message directly from Bruin.

  “Please turn around,” the message read.

  “Orders, sir?” Chaasker asked, oblivious to the message.

  Karim looked at the countdown; thirty-nine minutes.

  It was in moments like these that weighed the quality of a leader’s convictions, Karim could hear spoken back to him in the voice of Admiral Kaur. He knew he stood before a sheer drop, out before him lay a landscape of possibility and of fear. It was up to him to trust himself, to trust his people, and to own the decision regardless of how it would end. A leader may lead to slaughter as quickly as she might lead to deliverance.

  “We’ve made our beds,” Karim said, his heart heavy in contemplation. “Chaasker, order the Fleet to high alert. I want no ship to fire on the waystation or the Yesteryear unless they fire first.”

  “Affirmative,” Chaasker said, her hands busy typing commands at her terminal.

  “Commodore der Waals, Captain Mostro, The Mercurial will hang back, take lead of Second Squadron with the destroyers and support ships,” Karim ordered, which irked der Waals, blood lust waning. Captain Mostro nodded and closed their shared bulletin.

  “Shall I ready the wake cannon?” asked Chaasker.

  “No, we wouldn’t want to destroy them,” said Karim. Not wanting to give der Waals, and by extension the pirates, any advanced notice, Karim sent a private text bulletin to Captain Vermalen on The Relentless.

  “Ready a landing party. When the Fleet passes by, The Relentless is to break formation and capture The Yesteryear then begin sweeping the station. We will come about and provide additional personnel in short order. Find Bruin and capture him alive.”

  Captain Vermalen sent an emphatic “Yes, sir,” in reply.

  The time to engagement ticked down until finally, with seconds to go, the automated systems of The Kolkata and all the other ships of the Fleet kicked in simultaneously, pitching and yawing relative to nothing but the distant star and the waystation itself. Karim felt a minor push against himself as the upgrav generators fired to counteract the inertia.

  As soon as the engagement came, it went and most of the Third Fleet arced out and away from the waystation’s trajectory. Behind them, The Relentless’ engines fired a hard burn, slowing it at a breaking pace that surely its own upgrav generators were struggling to handle. Several small, squat boarding craft shot out of the destroyer’s main hold, attaching themselves to the waystation’s patchworked outer hull in mere seconds like leeches.

  Karim ordered the Fleet to come about and head for the aft side of the waystation relative to their previous heading.

  That’s when der Waals leapt off the handle.

  “What in the Karess’ name was that?” der Waals spat, a fervour painted on his face where it had reappeared on the wallscreen, “why has The Relentless, a ship under my authority suddenly been retasked?”

  Karim looked at him, taking his time to answer. “I needed Captain Vermalen’s forces to be discreet in landing a presence aboard the waystation. Remember who is in command, Commodore. This is your last warning,” Karim said, barely placating der Waals’ seething.

  “Admiral, The Yesteryear is powered up and detached from the waystation. They’re on the move,” Chaasker interrupted “Also, I’m picking up a tight-beam signal originating from the waystation’s aft side.”

  “Where is it directed to?” asked Karim, glad for the disruption.

  “The edge of the system,” said Chaasker, “We didn’t see it before because it was blocked by the waystation’s bulk.”

  Karim considered that. If the signal was indeed sending to the outer system, then a ship had to be hidden out there receiving it. The Third Fleet finished its turning manoeuvre and lined up for another intercept, slowing its velocity this time to match that of the waystation.

  Suddenly, a chime sounded on Karim’s terminal and a message popped into view.

  “I’m sorry,” Bruin’s message read.

  Alarms sounded on The Kolkata’s bridge as sections of the waystation began to fracture and break off, sending city-sized debris in all directions. Several of the landing craft that were caught in the first wave of it. Flattened by debris much of the initial landing force was wiped from existence. Having just finished slowing to come up alongside the waystation, The Relentless was struck with a piece of derelict freighter that split the destroyer in half. The aft section of the Relentless erupted at once, annihilating The Relentless in a brilliant ball of white.

  The numerous explosions caused by the shedding waystation and destruction of The Relentless, fed back into the waystation itself. Whatever sections of the waystation that had held on, were suddenly let loose by the successive blasts.

  Karim, with little time to react, tapped a command into his terminal that slaved all ships to The Kolkata. He ordered the fleet to break pursuit of the station, and steered them out to just miss the worst of the carnage. Two destroyers and a battleship at the edge of the formation closest to where the waystation had been were damaged, causing them to lose power and drift.

  “What the hell was that?” screamed Karim, his hands shaking with adrenaline.

  “The waystation must have self-destructed,” answered Chaasker.

  “The Relentless is gone,” said Mostro, his own attention split.

  Damn, Karim thought but steeled himself. He would have time for self doubt later.

  “Where is The Yesteryear now?” he said.

  “Several light-minutes out, just ahead of the blast wake,” said Chaasker.

  “Seems we know who laid that trap,” sneered der Waals. “I’ll have their head for this.”

  Just as he thought the worst of it was over, the debris cloud that was spreading outwards from where the waystation had been began to thin. Behind the curtain a battlescarred structure was revealed bearing a stealth coating that would have been hard to see were it not interrupted by the ongoing impacts of pieces of derelict freighters and remnant habitat modules.

  Karim’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the structure’s distinct style of construction, a style shared by the ancient signal device they had discovered back in Lyonesse.

  In a terrifying display of power, a long dormant Sonne Protectorate defence battery roared to life. It was a weapon employed during a time where humanity’s enemies came from outside. Fueled by the explosions that impacted its outer hull, the tee-shaped monolith channeled the force into a crude wake cannon aimed at the fleeing Kolkata and fired.

  Seconds later, and if by divine judgement, a riftwake was released from the battery, tearing towards The Third Fleet’s centre.

  Though far subdued from the power of The Kolkata’s own wake cannon, the battery’s barrage passed through the rear half of Karim’s ship, shearing several of the outer decks away and exposing many more to vacuum. The Kolkata’s trajectory contorted, sending the rest of the slaved vessels in the Fleet into disarray.

  Chaasker and the rest of the bridge crew were all too busy to provide an update. Every wallscreen in the room had gone dark, and the bridge’s upgrav generators were down, sending everyone in the room into weightlessness.

  On Karim’s terminal, a wideband bulletin opened, the smug face of Aiden looking back at him.

  “I hope you enjoyed my surprise, Admiral,” the prerecorded Aiden said, “it wasn’t easy to pull off, let me assure you. Had to tow the damned thing into the system from deep space. Took us weeks to reform the waystation around it.”

  Karim fumed, looking back at the face of a pirate that had once again outfoxed him. It took every ounce of the memory of his grandmother to quell the tumult within him in order to keep listening.

  “–anyways, you can have The Yesteryear and its crew. Think of it as a consolation prize.”

  The recording ended with a trite wave from Aiden, leaving Karim to the alarms and chaos that infected his Kolkata’s bridge. It would be several hours before a certain ship's engines were detected on the edge of the system in the place where the waystation’s tight-beam signal had been terminated. Just as soon as it had shone, it was gone, leaving this system behind.