MIA III

(Starspeak)

The Flotilla started out with eight ships, only one of which had been armed. Before, when its flagship had still been called the Fafin, it had already been extensively weaponized. Since becoming the Siegfried, the ship had only become more of a threat.

Void fleet flagships were typically huge. Three-hundred meters minimum. Bigger ones tipped four or five even. The Siegfried looked like a lightweight by comparison, just shy of two-hundred meters.

Looked.

Even in military circles, it was a fairly well-kept secret that the recent boom in ship-mounted weaponry had its roots in computer upgrades pioneered by the Flotilla. It wasn't hard to put two-and-two together if you paid close attention to broad trends. But in terms of specific, verifiable facts, not many aliens knew just how involved the Flotilla was in those arms developments.

Consequently, not many aliens knew just how well-armed the Flotilla was.

It felt slimy to have given the alien military-industrial-complex such a vitalizing boost, but Caleb and Serral had seen the writing on the wall. Once an alien started peeling apart an abductee's smartphone or laptop, it had been inevitable for the technology boom to find its way to the arms manufacturers.

Weaponizing the Flotilla had taken the better part of a year, but it left the group with firepower that even a whole fleet wouldn't sneeze at. The Siegfried alone carried enough torpedoes and cannon rounds to obliterate a destroyer-class ship along with its escort group.

All in all?

There was absolutely no chance the Siegfried was outgunned. Especially not with the Artemis, Clark Kent, and Peter Parker backing it up. The Jackie Robinson's presence was just gravy.

And yet no one acted like this fight was already won.

The Black Knight had already punished them for being unprepared once, and everyone was keenly aware of how quickly the next step of their battle was coming together. Even a small misstep could be catastrophic.

But even if the Famine somehow had the teeth to match more than half of the Flotilla's combined firepower, there was no way it could match their other advantage.

Organization.

The Siegfried didn't just talk to its allies electronically.

Psionics surged between the ships, sharing knowledge and information of all forms in real time.

In shared thought, a huge sphere faintly glowed with a blinking label: Igoyungit.

Orbiting the planet, currently on the far side, were several dots hovering above the planet's surface.

The first was a hostile-red diamond labeled: Famine. Around the ship was a series of concentric transparent spheres estimating the effective range of the ship's weapons.

Beyond even the outermost range indicator, in a much higher orbit, and with a round dot marked friendly-blue, was the Jackie Robinson.

The theory behind a shootout in space was incredibly simple. The raw destructive power in every warhead meant that defense still meant attacking, just in a different way. Both ships would launch missiles at each other, and both ships would simultaneously try to shoot down the incoming enemy missiles.

Ordinarily, their positions in orbit would have been disadvantageous for the Jack. Firing weapons from orbit to ground violated one of the only two treaties still recognized by both Coalition and Assembly.

'Atho's Rain' was one of the most sacrosanct rules of interstellar warfare. Every planet was vulnerable to things falling on them. And all it took to completely ruin entire hemispheres was launching a couple nukes from such a high altitude that no one could even detect them until it was too late.

But even worse?

Rocks.

Thermonuclear-fusion warheads, it turned out, were only the second most deadly weapon imaginable. Weapons technology eventually came full circle, and the single deadliest weapon came from the stone age: throwing stones. Painting a rock with the right optical-camouflage or radar-absorption coating could let it blend perfectly with the darkness between the stars. Strap a rocket to an asteroid, accelerate it up to speed, and just aim it a planet.

The first warning anyone would get was when the friction of the atmosphere would burn away the outer layers, and its victims would see its surface start to glow for a few minutes before impact.

And just like with nukes, by that time it was too late.

The actual contents of Atho's Rain wasn't one treaty, but several dozen. Each one crafted with excruciating redundant considerations, leaving as little ambiguity as possible. Thousands of different hypotheticals were imagined and described, all to outline the myriad of ways a very simple rule might be violated.

Weapons fired from orbit were forbidden from reaching air or ground.

So the Jack's position in a higher orbit made for a problematic firing position if they were detected. Every missile they might launch toward the Famine threatened to continue onward toward the planet below.

Or rather…

It would, if it had been any other planet but this one.

The other treaty mutually recognized treaty was that concerning Reploids.

Igoyungit was the only planet in the cosmos known to have been lost to a self-sustaining Reploid. To this day, it was assumed that no sapient life remained on its surface. Given that its atmosphere was still 'notionally hospitable' to life, it was one of the preferred ground for testing missiles to ensure their automatic-kill switches properly activated in the event they did find themselves scraping an atmosphere.

All the Jack's scopes and weapons were kept to passive targeting though. Destroying the ship would be a last resort. They wanted to observe. Follow. Capture.

Which made it all the more concerning that more contacts were appearing on long-range scans.

Indeterminate yellow dots flickered on a convergent course with the Famine.

<I've got new contacts,> Jordan called from the Jack. <Their transponders aren't resolving.>

<Show the positions of QE forces,> Serral called.

The view of Igoyungit zoomed outward, showing a lattice of orbiting ships and satellites monitoring the planet. Quarantine Enforcement. The ships were grouped in quartets, monitoring volcanos on the surface that could feasibly fling Reploid material beyond the planet's surface.

Still, there were more than a hundred ships constantly monitoring the planet, and crews were rotated regularly. It wasn't strange for a quartet to break formation temporarily.

Looking at the distribution of the QE forces, it was impossible to tell if any one group was missing from their position…

But Serral knew no other ship could move freely within the quarantine zone that surrounded the planet. Even the Jack was orbiting only a few thousand kilometers beyond the edge of controlled airspace.

So how had the Famine gotten into such a low orbit?

<Nora, who was your Vorak military contact in this system?>

<Neilo,> she replied. <Captain.>

<Was he QE or in the Horror Wings?>

<Fleet,> Nora answered.

<Compose a message,> Serral said. <We need to start talking to both. I think the Famine is cooperating with members of QE, and if that's true then the system fleet are going to be the only ones in a position to sort this out.>

<We need to be careful then,> Nora observed. <If the SPARK's evacuating the Black Knight with agents embedded in QE, we're could get screwed if find ourselves talking with the wrong chain of command. We might tip the very people we're after.>

Serral grimaced.

If the shooting started too soon, the Jack might be facing down the Famine plus four QE gunships. Long odds for even a fully prepared ship, and right now the Jack was flying with a skeleton crew of just four.

When the shooting started, it was all going to be over in minutes.

But the Siegfried was still more than a day away from participating in any fight. Sky high as the tension was, slow and deliberate moves were the right ones now.

<Continue holding position,> Serral ordered. <Try and resolve hull or reactor IDs on the newcomers.>

<You got it,> Jordan said.

Fenno gave a similar acknowledgement.

ꞏꞏꞏꞏꞏ

Space was massive. In terms of physical distance, yes. But equally in terms of time.

Even assuming optimal orbits, at .3G the average trip between planets took more than two weeks. At a full 1G, that time could be cut in half, 1.5G even quicker.

But it was still a trip measured in days.

The first few hours were the worst. The Flotilla could communicate with the Jackie Robinson instantly, but they couldn't route communications through the Jack's comms without giving away its position.

So, they traded messages the slow way with Quarantine Enforcement.

The crews guarding Igoyungit's upper atmosphere were uncooperative and obstinate at every turn. Confirming only the most basic information after agonizing waits. It was their job. Looping in the Horror Wings helped.

The Assembly's fleets were territorial to say the least, and they were always antsy when the Flotilla moved through Vorak space. Letting them close ranks with the QE forces actually made both of them calmer.

Serral's mood worsened with each message though.

He was playing a game of telephone with people who didn't trust him to begin with, one of whom might be finding out about more than a few traitors in their midst.

"What are the odds we're going to be able to get them to hang back?" Tasser asked.

"Poor," Serral said. "The rate this is going, the shooting is going to start and stop before we even hear about it."

"We've still got the ansible to the Jack," he pointed out. "Jordan and Fenno will let us know as soon as something happens."

Serral was not reassured.

If QE suddenly started paying extra attention to that orbit, it was as good as announcing someone had eyes on the meeting between the Famine and the mystery ships. If they were put on alert and noticed the Jack nearby…

"The first sign anything's wrong might be the Jack taking a torpedo," Serral said. "They're out there alone with a skeleton crew."

"And any other ship, that would be a bigger problem," Tasser agreed. "But the Jack's a special boat. One person with the right psionics can pilot the whole thing on their own. Dira, as long as the ansible stays up, someone on our end could operate the ship psionically."

"…I just wish we had more choice," Serral said.

"There wasn't one. You can't really follow a ship without following it."

"We could," Serral said wryly. "Jordan's pearl can let us track down the Black Knight anywhere in the cosmos."

Tasser would have replied with something equal parts pithy and reassuring, but a console light started blinking.

<Captain, reply on comm-6.>

<Thank you, Vez.>

Serral's psionics linked to the Siegfried's computer and accessed the comm log.

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"Koievavalta…" Serral swore under hiss breath.

"Captain?" Tasser asked.

"They're not waiting any more," Serral said, flicking him the message. It was filled with technical data, containing the exact timing and sequence of their weapons, but the simple message was the last two sentences.

Horror Wings and Quarantine Enforcement forces will engage targets at long range in [2.771] hours. Advise your ship to clear AO immediately.

<Jordan,> Serral called, tapping into the ship's ansible. <Targeting lasers are coming that way soon, fast movers are going to be close behind.>

<Got it,> she replied. <Friendlies?>

<I've got ship IDs for the ones firing, but…'friendly'? That's pushing it.>

<We'll make do,> Jordan said simply.

<Just be ready for a lot of stop-and-start afterward,> Serral warned. <QE doesn't mess around. They're going to be very upset, and they're going to want someone to answer for all this.>

<We'll keep our heads down,> Jordan promised.

ꞏꞏꞏꞏꞏ

True to Serral's word, the Jack's scopes registered launch signatures just shy of the attack countdown.

<Someone's shooting!> Fenno warned.

Jordan's eyes flew open, and she immediately prodded a psionic switch in her head. It was little more than pavlovian conditioning: press the switch as soon as you wake up. It was a cute little trick to kick her brain into high gear after long hours of inactivity stretched.

Fenno and Pablo had been on watch while Jordan and Pablo rested. All four of them had been strapped into their seats for more than a day, waiting for the inevitable moment someone started shooting at them.

Now here it was.

…Or so they thought.

<It's not at us,> Jordan frowned.

Psionic displays flickered as she manipulated the Jack's scopes for a better view of their subjects.

The Famine was still floating ominously in its low orbit. Four QE ships were in a synchronized formation a couple hundred miles away from the Famine.

And they were shooting at each other.

<What about the Famine?> Pablo asked.

He was a good kid. One of the older youngsters who'd aged up enough to start handling bigger assignments.

Jordan pulled up more psionic displays and found the Famine still unresponsive.

"[What…the…hell…]" Jordan frowned.

<There. Got a runner.>

Weith highlighted one of the four ships with QE hull-configuration. Unlike the other three, its drive plume suddenly bloomed with a hot glow. It looked slow on the scopes, but in seconds its acceleration would compound and it would be screeching away.

<Serral was right,> Fenno deduced. <These are rogue QE ships. One of them is breaking ranks.>

So instead they were using point-defense-cannons for attack. Four thousand rpms' worth of muzzle flares were the only visible sign anything was being fired. Chatter-guns fired more for volume and coverage than impact or accuracy.

Sparks lit up across the hull of the fleeing ship, but it was impossible to tell how much damage was inflicted visually.

It started with just one ship firing, but the others quickly joined in. Three ships shooting at the one trying to flee. No missiles yet. They'd been orbiting in a tight enough formation that the fleeing QE ship was actually still in range to shoot them down right out of the tube.

The other three rogue QE ships were slow to accelerate for just that reason. Letting it get some distance.

<…Do we help?> Pablo asked.

It was a serious question. If one of the rogue ships was breaking ranks, they might be willing to trade information and explain why they were meeting the Black Knight's ship out here.

Then again, the Jack was on its lonesome with barely any crew. And they'd worked so hard already to drift this close without betraying their presence to the Famine…

Fenno and Jordan shared a glance. They were both leaning the same way.

But the situation evolved before they could commit to the course of action.

<Thrusters firing on the Famine!>

Weith's displays showed the mysterious ship shifting its exterior paneling again. Like an insect changing size and shape, the ship flipped around and accelerated away just like the fleeing QE ship.

It wasn't chasing though. It had picked a different vector, heading back in the direction it—

<Serral!> Jordan frantically reached through the ansible. <The Famine's moving! It's heading your way.>

<We can't chase it without revealing ourselves,> Fenno said. <Our boat's got teeth, but I don't like our odds one-on-one with an unknown ship like the Famine.>

<Agreed,> Jordan said. She forced herself to breath. The Famine was on a collision course with the approaching Flotilla, but it would still be hours if not a full day before they came into contact.

<We should engage then,> Pablo said.

Jordan and Weith gave their fourth crewmember puzzled looks, but Fenno understood what the kid meant.

<The QE ships,> she said. <If the Famine is leaving, it's worth the risk to get information from these scrapes. Engage.>

Weith nodded and fired up the Jack's reactors, full blast.

The ship lurched into horrible motion and Jordan was pressed back into her chair by the weight of an elephant on her chest.

All four of them had different strengths and weaknesses when it came to psionics.

Fenno was tactical lead. Designating targets and monitoring the constant stream of data and observations their scopes were detecting from their enemies.

Weith was piloting. Even without his hands on the sticks, his psionics were keyed into the Jack's thrusters like they were his own fingers and toes. The ship flipped, turned, and burned all at his thoughts.

Pablo was manning the gunnery. Like Weith, he didn't need to have his hands on any hardware, but some people found it helped. Gripping two joysticks on his seat, he was prepared to sort between multiple psionic displays, both coordinating their defensive cannons' fire as well as supplementing the evasive action of whatever missiles they fired.

Jordan was in a more flexible role. Technically she could be called the comm-officer, but everyone with psionics like hers found themselves doing the extra things no one else could. She found herself channeling some of Caleb's mannerisms, and she quickly tagged the four rogue QE ships with names in lieu of readable transponder tags.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future took up a formation to start firing on Scrooge.

When the missiles came, they launched in pairs. Two from each of the pursuing ships. For a ship the size of 'Scrooge', its point-defense-cannons' recoil could significantly affect its trajectory. That was assuming its two PDCs could even get all six missiles.

<Shoot down the missiles,> Fenno ordered.

Pablo practically glowed in acknowledgement, and Jordan wordless took up firing-support controls too.

The two of them flew through three-dimensional calculus in seconds, aided by the Jack's own computer and sensors.

Three missiles burst from the Jack's tubes, accelerating far beyond what any ship could withstand.

The Christmas Ghosts' missiles had so much less distance to cover, but their trajectories were more circuitous, trying to avoid Scrooge's PDC fire.

It took two minutes to know if they'd fired in time, and there was almost nothing more they could do besides watch the missiles progress on their displays.

But sure enough.

<Scratch two,> Pablo reported. His first missile flex precisely between the first pair of enemy torpedoes, detonating, and destroying both.

Seconds later, the Jack's other two missiles intercepted the remaining two pairs. Each friendly missile had shot down two enemy missiles. Ideal. Exactly according to plan.

Also, an unmistakable announcement of their presence.

Despite the rogue QE ships firing on one another, all four of them did not take kindly to the reveal of a party-crasher.

<Eight missiles,> Jordan called out. <Five headed for us, three headed for Scrooge.>

Unbelievable. All four rogue ships had fired a missile toward the Jack— Scrooge had even fired two! Instead of shooting at its pursuers!

<Firing three more,> Pablo reported.

Three more missiles flew out from the Jack's hull, moving to intercept those on course for Scrooge.

As for the missiles heading toward the Jack itself…

<PDCs?> Fenno checked.

<Ready and bristling,> Pablo reported. <They could have fired ten and we still wouldn't sweat shooting them down.>

Looking at the incoming feeds, it wasn't hard to see why.

The missiles the rogue QE ships were using were significantly below the quality the Jack stocked. Even if they were identical in all other regards, the enemy missiles were just slower. No wonder the Jack's missiles had been able to intercept even despite the distance.

<Are they old gen weapons?> Pablo wondered.

He'd taken manual control of one of the PDCs and was firing a handful of bursts toward the incoming threats. At these ranges, it should have been wishful thinking, but two of the missiles were still caught by the shred of projectiles at more than triple the PDCs' normal effective range.

<Doubtful,> Weith said. He was watching the missiles' trajectories closer than anyone. His one job was to steer the ship through evasive maneuvers if other defenses failed. <They're probably just poorly optimized. Firing in the same condition they arrived from the factory.>

<More incoming!> Jordan warned.

Pablo frowned, only for a second.

The new missiles weren't from any of the rogue QE ships. Instead, they came from well outside the AO. From the actual QE forces coming to swoop in from all sides.

Eight more missiles blinked toward the rogue QE ships.

<At least they aren't shooting as us too,> Fenno muttered. <Shoot down those ones too.>

<…We can only cover the three,> Jordan reported, double checking the computer's math. <The vector headed for Scrooge is too far. From the wrong direction.>

<Nothing we can do for them then. They'll have to fend for themselves. Shoot down what we can then. And increase our thrust so we can catch up to 'Scrooge'. We want as many people to survive this as possible,> Fenno ordered.

Once again, the Jack fired three missiles, their stores now half-depleted.

The missiles curbed toward and beyond Christmas Past, Present, and Future, but Jordan and Pablo both saw the problem a minute before it happened.

<Our missiles are going to go inside their PDC range,> Pablo saw.

Jordan grabbed the controls to the comm laser, trying to broadcast a message and warning before the rogue QE ships shot down the missiles that were en route to save their miserable lives.

<Check the vectors,> Jordan warned. <Our missiles aren't for you. They're intercepting fire from your QE friends!>

No response.

Sure enough, when the Jack's missiles came close enough, all three rogue QE ships erupted with carefully coordinated PDC fire. Two of the Jack's missiles detonated, but the third snuck the cannon fire and streaked onward.

A minute later, it intercepted an incoming pair of torpedoes meant for Christmas Past.

The missiles meant for the other two ships flew unchecked, however. The crews aboard Christmases Present and Future must have been slow to detect the other incoming missiles.

Even if they noticed, they needed to flip their ships so their PDCs had more optimal coverage—too late.

They were obliterated flashes of nuclear fusion, visible from thousands of miles away.

Scrooge succeeded where two of its pursuers had failed, however. The ship successfully flipped itself and shot down the missiles flying toward it.

<Open channel,> Fenno ordered, and Jordan set the comms to broadcast unencrypted in all directions.

<This is the Terran Flotilla- Jackie Robinson, everyone who receives this message stop firing,> Fenno announced. <We've already spent too many of our very expensive missiles saving your worthless lives. So stand down and we'll continue to both spare and protect your lives. Keep exhausting our options and I promise you will die in a very impressive fireball.>

<Tightbeam for the incoming QE ships, now please,> she added.

Jordan reconfigured the comms so only the incoming QE force would get the message.

<QE response-force, please do not keep shooting at your rogue elements. I know you want to interrogate them as badly as I do. Our ship's defenses outstrip their crafts' ability to threaten us, so we can assure you they won't be shooting each other or us. There's still two ships intact, and if you don't fire any more missiles, then we can keep it that way.>

Fenno gave a silent nod to cut off the message there.

Sometimes is was better to simply declare you intentions and requests and not leave any opportunity for counteroffers or denials.

<…What if they keep running away?> Weith asked.

Jordan noticed that too. The Jack could prevent the ships from shooting each other. But they couldn't actually stop Scrooge from fleeing or Christmas Past from chasing. All they could do was keep up and wear down the resolve of whoever onboard was so set on keeping their radio silence.

All in all? Not bad. Two hostile ships had been destroyed, practically guaranteed for there to be no survivors. But the Jack hadn't taken a scratch, and it looked like they would have to opportunity to at least learn something.

Fenno and Jordan both kept one eye on the display showing the Famine tearing away from Igoyungit.

Tempting as it was to leave these rogue QE ships, they had to trust Serral and the rest of the Flotilla to handle what was barreling toward them.

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