Glentworth Orbit, Capellan March Rimward, Federated Suns 3028
Our solar sail was deployed, and we were doing our best to be good little merchant dropships, considering that the recharge station we were definitely not going to visit had both an Invader class jumpship with two Union class mech carriers and a Triumph class mixed armour carrier all bearing the Sun and Sword of the AFFS regular forces, but there was a wing of Stuka heavy Aerospace Fighters lazily patrolling the nearspace that would be a real threat to our Overlord dropship, should they decide we were anything other than friendly.
I had broadcast our identity as the Lyran Merchant Vessel Aufgebläht, with a cargo of Marik manufactured air scrubbers for the various mining hell worlds that fed the Federated Suns ever hungry war machine. It wasn’t sexy enough to attract inspection, but was profitable enough to explain using a military dropship for protection this close to both the Periphery and the Capellan border. If one of those Stuka decided to do a close flyby there was a decent chance they would note the 9th Illician Rangers insigia that we had painted on and not yet taken off, and the question of whether or not word of our rampant piracy would be addressed with a single firing pass of a hundred and twenty long range missiles and twenty four large lasers. A Stuka wing had the firepower to threaten even a heavy dropship with a long range firing pass that would keep out of most of our weapons range, and be able to swing around to hit the weak spot no matter how we manoeuvred, to finish us off like a spoon opening a soft boiled egg.
I was using our K1 dropshuttle to bring a platoon of our infantry down while I made a little message run to Com Star to lay the groundwork for our entry into Taurian Concordat space. To say that an Overlord with Federated Suns mercenary marking would not be received well would be like saying a duck might be a little bit in danger flying across an active skeet shooting range while the duck hunting club was celebrating the start of duck hunting season with a free shotgun ammunition range day. We needed to let them know the Vindicated were friendly (to the Taurian’s) and that our wearing Federated Suns colours when we showed up was a legitimate ruse of war (to us, I am pretty sure Duke Michael Hasek-Davion, Prince Hanse Davion and the colonel of the Illician Lancers would have a somewhat different opinion).
I turned to Tina Chin, my XO, and more importantly for today’s mission, a former Maskirovka secret police agent and political commissar of our former unit and asked her for some reassurance.
“So you are sure these Maskirovka accounts with Com Star are still secret, and we have the credits to send a priority message to the Taurian Concordat mercenary command?” I asked.
“Seventy percent.” She said, nodding firmly.
The Infantry Sgt beside me swore softly, and I must have paled slightly.
“Seventy percent? Why? What the hell makes the other thirty percent?” I burst, before remembering I was the commanding officer and by definition, never out of control or surprised.
Tina ticked off on her fingers as she ran down the possibilities.
“First, they may be able to strip the real ID off our Jumpship, and realize we are what is left of the 1st Ariana Fusiliers, and thus under a Capellan death sentence.” Tina stated calmly. I tried to sound calm as I asked.
“Why would Com Star care, they are neutral.” I said, proud my fear and frustration didn’t show.
Tina shrugged. ”Because they are basically the space phone company, and if we are under a death sentence from the organization who they will invoice for our call, they don’t get paid.”
I winced. Com Star thought of themselves as the saviours of human civilization, the last light of the Star Leagues glory, and the only hope for a peaceful tomorrow. Being called the space phone company would make one of their Adepts call us heratics, and burn us at the stake. They took reverence to Star League technology and made it a religion. Everyone else thought it was a joke, but brother, they believed.
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“Second, they may not know we are renegades, but recognize our codes as being Maskiroka, Capellan intelligence operating deep inside Federated Suns space during a declared war and refuse to help us because they are officially pacifist.” She smirked, and I nodded. There was a lot of money to be made during a war if you knew what worlds and commodities were about to take a hit. Com Star grew pretty fat on insider trading during every war.
“Thirdly, they may both spot our Jumpships ID here, and have stripped our true ID back of Ashkum, but not know we are Capellans. If they ID our ship from Ashkum and believe our cover story from then as 9th Illician Rangers, they may call us renegades and as agents of the Mercenary Bonding Commission, have us arrested and handed over to the locals for trial for violations of the Aries Conventions.”
Tina made that sound reasonable. Sure, our goal was to make the Illicians look like renegades to drive a wedge between Davion and his mercenaries. I just never figured we would also do the time for the crime we framed them for. Ironic success if that happened. Luckily Tina wasn’t finished.
“That is what we loaded the salvaged Valkryie for.” She said refering to the 30 ton Davion light mech we picked up at Ashkum and restored.
“I am good Tina, but I am not taking on the Com Star guard lance, and the local mech company with one Valkyrie that we didn’t even load missiles on.” I protested. Tina grinned. She refused to tell me the plan, and we marched past Davion military at the airfield and past the Com Guard infantry at the Com Star communication center, and went to place a very important cold call to an employer who didn’t know we existed.
The Adept at the desk greeted us with the prayer that always set my teeth on edge.
“The Peace of Blacke be with you. How may we assist you today?” The middle-aged woman who looked like a nun asked with a practiced customer service smile that never reached her lips.
“The Peace of Blake be with you as well Adept, “ Tina smiled cheerfully. “I have a priority message to be sent to Taurian Concordat Mercenary Command on New Vandenburg” She continued.
The Adept smiled genuinely, because a priority message to a destination outside the Federated Suns would cost as much as a medium tank or the fusion engine of my Vindicator. She asked softly,
“Of course. Keeping communication between the stars is our holy mission from the Blessed Blake. And what account shall I be charging?” The Adept asked. Tina slid across her data slate, containg our message, with a finger print, she opened the account string for the secret Maskirovka account.
The Adept smiled, and entered the message. We could hear and feel the message go out as the big Hyper Pulse Generator produced a more powerful energy field than anthing save a KF Jump drive. As we shook hands and rose to leave, the placid Com Guards posted at the door suddenly shocked alert, and one of them slammed a button on the main outer door, causing a heavily armoured blast door to slam down.
As we all reached for our side arms, a full squad of heavily armed Com Star quick reaction troopers ran out, and an angry Demi-Precentor in ornate robes came stalking out behind them.
“I don’t know who you barbarians think you are dealing with, but we have identified you as the perpetrators of the Ashkum pirate raid and bombing. Orbital bombardment of a planetary population by a mercenary group is a violation of the Ares convention. The Illician Lancers and House Davion have both dissavowed your unit as renegades, AND you have no right to the account you used. I don’t know what kind of torture you had to use to get that code, but Our Blessed Order has long known that code to belong to the Maskirovka. They would hardly pay the bill for a priority message to the Taurian Concordat for mercenaries in Davion employ. Now, unless you can give me a really good reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to the AFFS for trial and execution, we will be taking justice as the price of your fraudulent HPG call.”
I leaned over to Tina as we were disarmed and cuffed. “See, this is what happens when you don’t pay your phone bill.”