9

The disadvantage of having personal communication hardware installed in everyone’s heads was that it was impossible to truly disconnect. Software locks and codes existed, but especially for someone with large responsibilities—like the Admiral of a mercenary fleet—someone always had an override to ping them regardless.

And headware implants were able to wake their human from a deep sleep if their metrics decided that the alert was important enough. Anything where Kira’s subordinates were flagging the message high-enough priority to even make it through the software would rouse her.

All of that meant that she went from completely asleep, snuggled in Konrad Bueller’s arms, to fully awake as an emergency ping hit her implants from the bridge.

“Demirci,” she answered silently, hoping to not disturb her lover. Extracting herself from his arms without waking him would take a moment, but she’d have to find clothes before doing more than taking audio calls, anyway.

“I’m sorry to bother you, boss,” Akuchi Mwangi said softly, clearly aware that it was the middle of her night. Of course, his volume was irrelevant, as the message was arriving directly to her auditory nerves…but headware, in Kira’s experience, only allowed humans to be human faster and with more certainty.

Instincts evolved but never truly went away.

“What’s going on?” she asked, carefully laying Konrad’s arm back on the bed and pulling a blanket over the man.

“We’ve got a cruiser bearing for us, coming in hard,” Mwangi told her. “Beacon says they’re from the Denzel Security Association, and we’ve been summoned to provide our full course and destination.”

That was more information than most people would demand of a pair of mercenary capital ships.

“The Denzel System is…what, twenty light-years from here?” Kira asked. They were inside the range where the Denzel fleet could operate, but that was still strange.

“Twenty-two,” Mwangi confirmed. “I haven’t responded to their demands yet, but you know where we’re at in the cycle.”

Kira didn’t even need to manually check the time. Her two ships and their consular companion had novaed to this trade-route stop eleven hours before. It was still nine hours before they could nova away—but that wasn’t the only cycle Mwangi was talking about.

Her ships were nearly at the maximum level of tachyon and electrostatic buildup they could safely carry. They needed to discharge after their next nova, which limited them to exactly two possible destinations.

“Inform them that we are en route to the Serigala System to discharge static,” Kira told him. “Hopefully, that’s enough. If it isn’t…”

She kept her sigh off the audio channel as she looked back at the warm bed with its warm human.

“I’ll be on the flag deck in three minutes,” she concluded. “If the locals are still being troublesome, we’ll get it sorted.”

* * *

The virtual merger of bridge and flag deck was online within moments of Kira entering her space, but it was sparser than usual. There was only a small bridge crew on duty, and she was truly physically alone in the flag deck this time.

While Deception, like most flagships, ran on a ship’s day of “the Admiral is up,” there was no point in waking everyone up just because Kira had been flagged for a concern.

The next step would be to bring both of her ships to full battle stations and start scrambling fighters, after all. They could wake everyone up then.

“Current range is just under one light-minute,” the junior Tactical officer running the dark watch reported. “Contact is… Contact has launched nova fighters, but they appear to be falling into formation around her.”

Kira took her seat and brought up the main tactical display.

“That’s a response, I suppose,” she told the bridge crew. “What are we looking at, people?”

“Fifty-kilocubic light cruiser, presumably local design, as she draws a blank in the databanks,” Mwangi said instantly. “Looks like she’s got space aboard for ten nova fighters, which is a…choice.”

“Marking two of them as bombers, Captain,” the Tactical officer noted.

“Eight interceptors and a pair of bombers isn’t a bad sucker punch for a light cruiser,” Kira replied. “What do we know about this Denzel Security Association?”

“The DSA is the nova fleet for the Republic of Denzel,” Mwangi listed. “EG says they’re a pretty standard presidential republic, above-average GSP per capita… Nothing to scream troublemaker, but they have a nova fleet and are listed as carrying out security patrols in the surrounding region.”

“Junior over there is picking a fight with over three times his cubage of unknown warships,” Kira said. “Any further communication?”

“Not yet. She’s an hour away still, unless those nova fighters jump at us,” Mwangi reported. “Permission to request a CSP from Huntress?”

“Granted,” Kira replied. “Wake up Scimitar and Nightmare. They put ten fighters into space? Let’s get twenty up.”

“Battle stations?” Mwangi asked.

“Not yet,” she told him. “Get me a link to Macey. This is her neighborhood. I hope she knows the Denzelites better than we do.”

“Ronaldo.”

The single name was a clear instruction, one that the assistant com officer had clearly picked up as he flashed a thumbs-up and got to work.

A moment later, Kira was connected to an audio-only link with Doretta Macey.

“Mrs. Macey, I apologize if I’m interrupting anything, but has your crew advised you of our incoming visitor?”

There was a long, silent pause.

“You woke me up, Admiral, so give me a moment,” Macey said slowly. A few more seconds passed. “Captain Hennessy informs me that there is a cruiser heading our way, but so far they have only communicated directly with Deception.”

“Have they?” Kira asked quietly. “We didn’t realize that here, Mrs. Macey. They asked for our full course plan and destination, which isn’t something I want to turn over without a good reason—but they’ve also deployed nova fighters and are continuing to close.

“Now, I’m not overly concerned about the threat of this one ship, but I don’t want to fight a battle I shouldn’t have to, and I’m not sure they’d be picking this fight unless they thought they had backup,” Kira continued. “What do you know about what’s going on?”

“Not much more than you,” Macey told her. “I’ve led or been part of five trade missions to Denzel. They’re a major trading partner of ours, if a bit more cutthroat than I really like.

“They’ve been pushing their economic edge for influence in the systems around them recently, so…”

“Wonderful. We’ve walked into someone feeling their oats,” Kira concluded. “I’ll loop you in on our further communications with them, Mrs. Macey. I would very much like not to have to get into a pissing match—but I’ll take that over a shooting match.”

* * *

Kira watched as the Denzelite warship continued to approach with its starfighters in formation around it. She figured she had a decent idea of what the DSA was doing there, but the cruiser Captain was being an idiot about it.

She sighed.

“Ronaldo,” she addressed the com officer on duty. “Get me a wideband transmission directed at our friends. What’s the time delay?”

“Hundred-and-ten-second round trip,” Jacen Ronaldo replied quickly. “Plus however long they take to think and record.”

“Thank you.”

A green icon popped up in her headware, and she mentally clicked it to start recording.

“Denzel Security Association vessel,” Kira addressed the stranger. “This is Admiral Kira Demirci of the Memorial Force mercenary squadron. My people have provided the information you have asked for, but you are continuing an aggressive approach on our position.

“We have neither business nor conflict with the Denzel System that I am aware of, and I would prefer not to get into a fight over a misunderstanding. Communicate your intentions before someone does something drastic and regrettable.”

She ended the recording and shook her head. Unless the Denzelite Captain was an idiot, they knew that Kira could wipe them out. The DSA’s handful of starfighters were potentially a useful augment to a light cruiser’s capabilities, but against a carrier or a heavy cruiser, they were still utterly outgunned.

Kira might lose nova fighters if it came to a fight—something she did not want to do—but the DSA cruiser was outnumbered and outgunned.

She was considering her battle-stations alert when the DSA ship finally replied. A recorded video of a sharp-featured older man with visible cybernetics wrapped over his head glowered at her.

“This is Captain Fikri Sparacello of the Denzel Security Association,” he said in a clipped and evenly paced accent. “You have entered a security restriction zone enforced by the DSA.

“As you were advised originally, we require your full course, destination and intentions, or your vessels will be interned and auctioned to cover the costs of your detainment.”

Sparacello glared at the camera.

“This is not negotiable, Em Demirci.”

The recording ended and Kira sighed. She considered for a moment, then forwarded Sparacello’s message to her ship Captains and Macey before linking them in for a virtual conference.

“Mrs. Macey, any idea what’s going on?” she asked the Samuels delegate.

“None,” Macey admitted. “This didn’t happen when we came out, but that was…weeks ago.”

“It’s a blockade,” Mwangi said quietly. “The question is what system are they blockading and why are they being quite so irritable about it.”

“They’re being irritable because they don’t know the standards, is my guess,” Kira replied. “If Denzel has never run a real blockade before, they’re being overly aggressive—not least because we just showed up with a pair of ships that can probably breach their blockade.”

“So, what do we do?” Macey asked, the delegate looking concerned.

“First, we talk Captain Sparacello off the cliff before I have to shoot him off of it,” Kira said drily. “We’ve got him talking, which is halfway there.” She shook her head. “There’s a good chance they’re blockading the Serigala System, so we’ll have to deal with that.

“I’m not being paid to breach their blockade, so we go around if that’s the case,” she admitted. “Plus, while our friend here isn’t up to our weight, my understanding is that the DSA has a carrier group or two that could give us a real headache.

“We’re probably going to have to pay a ‘toll’ to save their face,” she continued. “That’s covered under our contract, Mrs. Macey. By which I mean you have to pay for it.”

The representative chuckled.

“I did read the contract, Admiral; I just didn’t think there were any tolls or blockades on the route home,” she admitted. “But you can handle this?”

Kira nodded.

“One way or another, Mrs. Macey,” she told her employer. “But if I leave Captain Sparacello’s ship in pieces, that’s going to be a very big problem for somebody.”

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