12

Three days and three novas later brought the entire task group to their destination, a trade-route stop four light-years from the KDC-15RT System. Like most trade-route stops in the Rim, it was empty, with nothing visible to mark it as one of the heavily mapped regions of space considered safe to nova to.

The maximum range of a class one nova drive was six light-years, requiring a twenty-hour cooldown. Even out there on the edge of the Rim, there were lines of trade-route stops positioned six light-years apart spread between the systems.

Travel consisted of novaing to the nearest trade-route stop, then following the route. The risk of piracy using the premapped points was more acceptable than the risk of vanishing when jumping to unmapped locations.

Kira’s nova fighters would require forty hours’ cooldown for the six-light-year jump, though they could make it independently if they needed to. Their main advantages were their smaller size and shorter minimum cooldown. A class two nova drive was only thirty cubic meters and could cool down in a minute after a short-enough nova—versus the ten-minute minimum cooldown for a class one.

The class twos could also be mass-produced once the various complicating factors had been handled. Redward had only had a class two plant for about nine months and had manufactured over a hundred of the drives.

It was the products of that manufacture she was watching from Deception’s Flight Control as they swept out into a standard Carrier Space Patrol. A six-ship squadron of Dexter interceptors was now orbiting the collection of ships, while a pair of two-ship detachments of Sinister fighter-bombers were novaing away to sweep the edge of the trade-route stop.

“We’re not seeing anything around,” Davidović reported from the bridge. “Just the RRF contingent.”

“Keep your eyes open,” Zoric ordered. “The Costar Clans are just as stuck with the trade-route stops as anybody else. If they’re heading out on a raid, there’s a good chance they’ll come through here.”

The Clans probably had other mapped points around their systems to make intercepting them harder, but there was a reason blockades worked. Kira had encouraged the RRF to establish backup nova zones around Redward to give them escape routes, but that was a work in process.

The maximum safe nova to an unmapped target was around one light-week. It could take months to travel six light-years without a target zone. Once you were there, establishing a solid-enough map of the gravity of an area to classify it as a safe nova zone took weeks.

Her understanding was that there were a couple of ships doing that scouting as they spoke, but they weren’t done yet. Unlike Arti, which was only within jump distance of two trade routes, Redward was a convergence point for the maps and had six ways out.

But still only six.

That thought was bothering her now, especially with so much of Redward’s firepower here. An outright invasion of a system like they were attempting was rare, but blockading a system to contain its military and merchant shipping?

That was how wars were fought.

“Nova signatures on the scopes,” Davidović reported. “Escorts and fighters are maneuvering to intercept.”

“Stand by the scramble team,” Kira ordered. That was Purlwise’s Memorial-Charlie and the Weltraumpanzer-Viers at the moment. If the nova signatures were hostile, Purlwise’s people would reinforce Perseus’s CSP while the rest of the fighters from the cruiser and carrier got into space.

“Scans suggest six ships: two destroyers and an escort,” the tactical officer continued after a moment. “Beacons mark them as Ypres Federation Space Fleet.”

“That’s got to be all of the destroyers they have left,” Zoric said. “But they’re friendly, right, boss?”

Kira snorted.

“If the Federation is here to cause trouble, this Coalition is already fucked,” she told the other woman. “Yprians are ours. We’re still expecting four more destroyers, mostly along with the Bengalissimo cruiser, and an assortment of lighter ships.”

“My timeline says another twenty-four hours for everyone to show up?” Zoric asked.

“Mine too. I’ve scheduled a meeting for all of the fighter squadron commanders in twenty-six hours,” Kira said. “Hopefully, the Bengalissimo actually bring their nova fighters and their squadron commander isn’t an asshole.”

“If they’re a rocket-jock, what’s the chance?” Deception’s Captain replied.

“Decent.” Kira glared at the image of the cruiser’s CO. “Not all rocket-jocks are arrogant and troublesome.”

“I was XO of a carrier for ten years, Kira,” Zoric pointed out. “My experience suggests otherwise.”

“Behave, Captain,” Kira murmured. “This isn’t going to be a fighter-focused campaign, but you still need my people.”

“Always, sir,” the other woman agreed. “Teamwork is the key, after all.”

* * *

The next arrival was a surprise but a pleasant one. They’d only been expecting one destroyer from the mid-tier powers of the Cluster. When three arrived, accompanied by a dozen gunships, alerts woke Kira from a much-needed night’s rest.

“Report,” she demanded as she rolled away from Bueller and onto her feet.

“Fifteen new contacts, three destroyer-sized,” Waxweiler’s voice told her grimly. The Brisingr defector was Commander Davidović’s second in tactical, a position he’d earned by handling the entire tactical workload in Ypres after they’d stolen the ship.

“Still assessing beacons, but Perseus is scrambling.”

“Get the scramble wing up,” Kira ordered. “I’ll be in my fighter in—”

“Wait,” Waxweiler cut her off. “ID codes coming in. I’m flagging… Damn.”

“Chief?” Kira asked. Technically, Waxweiler’s job title was team leader, but he’d been a chief petty officer for the Brisingr Kaiserreich Navy, and habits died hard.

“I’ve Otovo codes, Exeteron codes and New Ontario codes,” he reported. “Destroyers are transmitting mercenary codes. Does Commodore Shang sound familiar to you, sir?”

Grumpy Cat, Twister and Compensation?” Kira asked, reeling off the names of the mercenary Commodore’s three destroyers.

“Those are the IDs I’m seeing, yeah.”

She exhaled.

“Stand down the scramble, then, Chief,” she told him. “We were expecting those three systems to put up New Ontario’s solitary destroyer and then a dozen gunships, but it looks like they hired Shang instead.”

“That’s good, right?” Waxweiler asked.

Twister and Compensation are a generation behind Serendipity, but they’re Redward-built destroyers, solid ships.” She paused. “By Cluster standards, anyway.”

Shang had lost a destroyer at the Kiln and seen Grumpy Cat badly damaged. Redward had repaired his flagship and helped him buy and upgrade two destroyers they were decommissioning as compensation for his losses—hence the names.

“An extra pair of destroyers aren’t going to go amiss,” she concluded. “And I’m glad to see locally available mercenaries on our side instead of with the Clans. So, yeah, that’s good news.”

She considered the situation for a moment, then shook her head.

“I’m going back to bed, Chief,” she told Waxweiler. “Hopefully, any other surprises will be just as pleasant!”

Killing the com channel, she turned around to see that Bueller had also been awakened by the emergency alert. He was sitting on the bed, his head tilted, as he’d clearly been listening to the conversation.

“Everything seems in hand,” he noted. “We good?”

“We’re good,” she confirmed, eyeing the Brisingr man’s uncovered muscular torso. “And since we’re both awake, I suddenly have plans to be even better.”

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