Sigil of the Wolf - 18. Chapter 18

Tradeliner - Shifting Sands

They were heavily modified Predators; the angled manta-ray shapes were reconfigured slightly to permit the new drives, which Darien recognized instantly as Polian. Heavily raked-forward designs, they mounted an impressive set of missiles and cannons under their wings. The fruits of the new alliance were finally being unleashed.

The new fighters pin-wheeled and dived, perfect formation flying that was the trademark of Amsus pilots, beginning a strafing run on the Tradeliner that was desperately trying to activate its defences in time to deal with the first wave.

Darien grabbed Denver's arm. "We need to get out of here..."

Denver rounded on him, his eyes wide with fury. "They wouldn't dare attack..." He insisted, an almost fanatical glint in his eyes.

The first salvo of missiles slammed home into the Tradeliner, causing the deck to rock, and Darien looked up at the glass ceiling over their heads. "With respect, Director, we need to get out of this room!"

Denver seethed, nodding his head. "Lead the way, Inspector," he growled, following Darien as the rest of the dining room broke into pandemonium. The social graces forgotten as they stormed towards the far exits, clogging them tightly.

Darien looked about and spied the kitchen access, his hand still on Denver's arm as he guided him through into the kitchen, dodging to avoid pots and pans crashing down from their racks overhead. Breathlessly they both pushed through into the hall as the bulkhead door behind them crashed closed.

The ship rocked from another salvo, the deck pitching violently to the right as its artificial gravity generator tried to compensate, several of them overloading from the strain of keeping such a massive ship level. As the ship righted itself, its decks listed ten degrees to starboard.

Darien was suddenly glad of the rugged uniform boots as he fought to stay upright.

Darien reacted, his hand flying for the PKD as the spiked creature materialized in the hall before him. He gritted his teeth, knowing the creature had the drop on him, but it hesitated uncertainly, lifting its club-like hand threateningly and darting its head between the businessman and the TER-SEC officer.

Darien's PKD came up as the creature struck, knocking Darien spinning against the bulkhead door, the PKD slamming against the far wall. The Highlord shook his head as he felt himself being lifted, the mandibles of the nightmarish creature reaching for him as Darien instinctively turned his head away, prying his feet against its chest and pushing for all he was worth.

He slipped from the creature's arms, as it struggled to recapture him, its bone blades extending as it moved to cut him down, Darien scrambling across the floor to scoop up the PKD as he turned the creature raising its spiked arm to savagely rake him.

Denver grabbed for the wall, looking up. "No!" he bellowed, throwing out his hand as if to ward off a blow.

Darien didn't hesitate. He shot it with a well-placed discharge of the PKD at point blank range, sending the creature staggering. He advanced again, the PKD up and firing a second shot, followed swiftly by a third as the creature collapsed into a shuddering mass.

"Mister Denver!" Darien insisted, turning to the businessman and gesturing ahead, "if there are more of them..."

Denver stared down at the body of the creature at his feet, flashing Darien a strange look as his hand flexed. "Where are we going to go?" Denver asked pointedly, the ship rocking from another impact. Denver stared down at the creature one last time as he straightened his immaculate suit as he stepped over its corpse.

"Always have a back up plan," Darien replied, pulling the TAC-link from his pocket and clicking it on. "Excalibur?"

"We're in position." Lauren replied, "Wing Commander Masconi asks if she can now send in the cavalry."

Darien turned Denver. "The Empire requests permission to come to your assistance, Mister Denver."

Denver stared coldly at the TAC-link, looking up at the young man in front of him. Inside he was seething. Externally, he put a casual smile on his face. "I believe that would be appreciated," he said, keeping his voice calm and even.

"Go," Darien commanded, sliding the TAC-link away. "How long can this ship last under this kind of sustained attack?" He asked, checking corridors around the intersection they were standing in. They were above a great shopping promenade, where the liner's guests could indulge their trade passions.

"She'll hold," Denver reassured, "I manufacture most of the Orions' weapons technology, this ship's hull is reinforced with armour plating... fighters, even Polian-equipped Predators, won't destroy her."

"No," Darien agreed, "But they don't have to, they'll just disable her and let the Raptors drop troops onboard." He stood a moment listening to the alarms, the sounds of passengers running towards emergency shelters, trying to think.

They needed off that ship, but with the myriad of Amsus ships, it would be a dangerous gauntlet run, and with the updated Predators, nearly suicidal.

* * *

Rikard's anger bubbled beneath the surface. She had betrayed him.

She had waited until the opportune moment to strike, when two of her enemies were arrayed together. It was a near-perfect execution of a plan, the perfect way of testing the new Predators as well as cleanly disposing of the two people that stood in her way. Yet how had she known he was there?

Rikard's brow furrowed. She couldn't have known. He had gone to such great lengths to hide where he was going, which meant that she had no idea he was there unless he had been betrayed, and the Amsus and his Inquisitors wouldn't betray him. No, they were hunting Taine and he was unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire.

He looked at the young Inspector-turned-Highlord. There was a fire in those deep, dark eyes, VonGrippen's fire. That was dangerous. VonGrippen had been a man consumed with taking the moral high ground, fighting Kardiac and the bishops at every turn, bucking authority just to do what his personal moral code told him was right.

In a way, Rikard was pleased; it meant that whoever was running the Empire had to have the singular biggest pain in the ass...

"Where's the docking bay?" Taine asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Rikard frowned. He wasn't seriously considering taking some antiquated Orion vessel out into the firestorm that was boiling outside?

The firm set of short man's jaw said that that was exactly what he planned to do.

Rikard contemplated instructing his last Praetorian to attack, finish Taine there and then, put an end to the insanity. That had been the plan, to simply execute the man after he had satisfied his curiosity, but he hadn't counted on the Excalibur remaining, shadowing his ship; his best bet was to bide his time, play along and kill two birds with one stone. He needed the Peligian diary, and inadvertently, fate had seen fit to give him an opportunity to get it back.

"It's this way," Rikard said, motioning and then following the determined young man through the corridors of his ship.

There were explosions off in the distance, the Amsus sustaining their attacks on the Tradeliner's engines. Rikard kept pace through the nearly deserted corridors, the Orion crew setting up barricades and firing positions in preparation for the inevitable waves of Amsus boarding troops.

Rikard waved off offers of an escort, electing to stay with Taine. Now that he had the young man in his sights, he wasn't about to lose him. The key to ending the Imperial aspirations lay in killing that young man. Now all he needed was an opportunity.

They crossed a short catwalk, descending into the Tradeliner's upper showroom that connected to the docking bay, a place where Denver's latest shuttles and sports recreational vehicles were on display for avid enthusiasts. Ordinarily it would be packed, like a roving automotive show, sales people making pitches, trying to attract attention with beautiful girls draped over the vehicle's access panels, or leaning suggestively against their hatches.

"What's that?" Taine asked, suddenly drawing to a halt.

Rikard stopped jogging, and took a step back, trying to see what Taine was looking at. "It's a display," the former Chancellor replied irritably.

"I meant on it," Taine clarified with a shake of his head.

Rikard took another step backwards to get a better look. "That's the new patrol interceptor..." Rikard murmured, recognizing the lines of the agile-looking vessel resplendent in its TER-SEC markings, "We hold several contracts with TER-SEC supplying equipment, they just received about a thousand of these."

Taine glanced towards the main docking bay, before crossing to the interceptor; it was a dual function craft, like all TER-SEC vehicles, designed for operation on Earth as well as in space. It had heavily armoured wheels in recesses would drive it on land, and the upgraded ion drive package in the rear would give it punch in space. He nodded in approval at the upgraded armour package as well as the inclusion of the auto cannon mounted over the hood. She'd be tougher than the average fighter, and with a little luck, just as fast.

He opened the pilot's-side gull-wing door and climbed in, rummaging around in the equipment locker and pulling out the tac vest, checking to make sure it had a full load out of PKD magazines. Satisfied, he pulled it on, reaching down and taking out the collapsible stock and began to screw the barrel cooling system to the muzzle of his weapon.

"What are you doing?" Rikard demanded, listening as the sounds of the Amsus attack had died down. Either the Excalibur had succeeded in driving off the enemy attacks, or the Raptors were moving in.

Taine turned back to him, resting the stock against his arm. "We're about to be boarded," he said simply, "And this just increased my rate of fire." He exchanged magazines clipping in a fresh one, pausing to duck back into the interceptor again and recover the TER-SEC badge that was part of the display piece and pocket it.

Satisfied, he stood up again and motioned towards the docking bay, pulling his TAC-link from his pocket. "Nazzien?"

"Up and to your right," Nazzien's voice replied, and Rikard looked up to the upper gallery where the Orion was moving swiftly, somewhere along the line having donned Orion tactical gear, pulling some young man along with him. The slithering form of the Gorean ambassador followed a few feet behind them, looking worriedly back behind him.

"We're making for the docking bay," Taine said, "you armed?"

The Orion held up a particularly viscous Orion assault rifle as he jogged down the steps to join his Commander. "The Excalibur's here, about thirty klicks to port," he gestured, "it's a tough fight out there, mostly Amsus Predators and Raptors. Masconi's got the Preds tied in knots chasing the F-175s around the liner while she and hers take pot shots at the Raptors... But they're getting through." He looked back at the large Gorean, sitting on its brass scales and breathing through its broad mouth almost panting. "We ran into someone else needing a ride..."

"Ambassador," Taine greeted before he looked back at the ceiling above them, "The Amsus are attacking the upper decks first?"

Nazzien nodded. "They breached and are working their way down, though we're giving them a good fight," he smiled in pride as he nodded to Rikard.

"Our priority is to get the Director and the ambassador to safety," Darien said firmly, "Aboard Excalibur we can pull back to the transports and leave the system."

"I'm not leaving my ship," Rikard said, turning to the Inspector.

Taine shook his head. "With respect, Director, I can't leave you here to be captured. At least aboard Excalibur you'll be safe. We can make for the nearest Orion outpost..."

"Where you'll stay aboard the Excalibur," Nazzien murmured, with a pained look at the Tradeliner about him.

Rikard closed his eyes, and nodded his head. Inside he smiled, it hadn't been part of his original plan, but it would have to do. At least it would give him a chance to recover the Peligian diary Taine had stolen from him. He made a subtle hand gesture to his remaining Praetorian, indicating that it should remain with him. The shrouded creature stood, ready to loyally carry out its master's orders and cut down his enemies at any time.

* * *

Darien was the first to move into the docking bay, Nazzien covering their rear: two warriors defending their charges dutifully. They had to move fast, find a ship, and get off the Tradeliner before the Amsus completely overran the Orion defenders.

The high bay held an assortment of vessels in its freefall environment. The connecting walkways held gravity fields, but if anyone stepped off of one they were likely to float out into the bay. The yellow and black warning tape marked the edges of the artificial gravity fields clearly, and Darien made sure to stick to them.

Mostly the ships there were pleasure yachts or private shuttles for the passengers. There were a few smaller cargo craft deeper in that ferried freight to and from the Tradeliner. There were a few sporty-looking fast shuttles for the middle-aged Orion looking to recapture his youth... and Darien stopped cold.

"What?" Kyr asked, nearly walking into the Highlord.

Nazzien, who had been watching the doors, looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "That's..."

Darien rounded on Denver, the PKD lowering as he stared levelly at the businessman, his back to the ship. Its ungainly lines and bulky engines marked it as a Terran thrust lifter, out of place amidst the well-built shuttles and Orion ships.

Denver smiled. "In business it is important to know the person you are dealing with. I acquired this from a smuggler at some expense; it's been heavily modified, but definitely your ship..."

"It was my ship," Darien replied, glancing back at the Dragonfly sitting at rest, and back at Denver. He had that niggling unease again. The uniform, now the ship. Denver was baiting him for some reason. It left Darien wondering what else the man knew about him, and how he intended to use it.

"We have to go!" Nazzien stated, the sound of gunfire approaching.

"Get aboard," Darien ordered, gesturing to the small thrust lifter; if there were a ship that could navigate the perils outside, then it would be the one Elias built. She seemed intact, simply missing the auto-maser turret that had been cannibalised for R-403. She was unarmed, but then it wouldn't be the first time Darien had piloted that ship through a tough scrape without weapons.

It was like stepping into a past life, dashing aboard that ship and sliding down the ladder into the all-too-familiar cockpit; nothing had been changed, the Imperial sensors were still linked in and operational, the control start-up sequence hadn't changed. Darien tossed his PKD over to Kyr who had just joined him.

Further up in the ship, Nazzien covered the doors as Denver boarded the ship behind the Gorean's bulk, not noticing the businessman stand aside to let something unseen board ahead of him. Satisfied they were all safe, he darted for the hatch, cycling it closed as the moorings retracted and the ship began to move away under her own power.

Darien remembered how touchy the double stick controls were, and he wrestled into the safety harnesses as he fired the drives. Knowing he didn't have much time, he angled the large main drives up towards the ceiling and fired them, plummeting the ship down towards the bottom of the bay.

She shot down, her pilot rolling the thrust lifter towards the main doors, reaching out to key a request for them to open, smiling in relief as the iris cycled open at their approach, spitting them out into a firestorm.

* * *

The missile lock tone screamed at him.

The F-175 and the up-rated Predators were an even match. That scared Katz. For so long, his pilots had enjoyed a technological advantage over the Amsus; faster, more manoeuvrable fighters that could keep the Amsus predators at bay, but now the Amsus were combining their new Polian technology with their sheer numbers.

Katz sweated as he gritted his teeth and pushed his bird harder. Things were moving faster than he was used to. The Imperial triple-ace launched a half-dozen missiles at the incoming predators before pulling his fighter into a vertical pitchout, unleashing flares as he did so. The tone fell silent as he craned his neck back to see the train of Predators streaking away behind him, as five magnesium flares floated lazily in space. He pulled harder on his stick, bringing the fighter over the top, then executed a neat half roll. The Predators were in his sights now, thrusters flaring as they charged away from him as fast as they could manage. Bumping the throttle forward, he pounced on them, and salvoed his remaining missiles at the gaggle of enemy fighters, not waiting to see if they hit home.

They were badly outnumbered, and with Amsus fighters all over the place he dared not stay on a constant vector for more than two seconds. He spared another quick glance aft; he yanked the stick to the left and back, stomping on the left rudder as he did so. The vernier thrusters on top of the left wing and below the right fired, as did those on the right side of the nose and the left side of the tail. The ACS momentarily yanked the left engine to idle and the right to max thrust. Combined, they yawed the fighter over in a spiralling corkscrew that foiled the Predator firing solutions that a fighter sitting on his tail was trying to compute.

It was no good, the yells from panicked pilots over the radio told him how badly they were doing. The Amsus were cutting into the unprepared and mostly green pilots. Only the experienced vets of VMA-23 and those of VF-54 were keeping their cool, but there just weren't enough of them.

He thumbed his radio mike. "Paladins, fall back to the ship," he commanded. They needed the cover of the Excalibur's anti-aircraft guns; pressing the attack would serve nothing but to kill more of his men.

He was struggling to stay alive in the increasingly crowded sky, gritting his teeth and barely noticing as his rail cannon claimed another Predator, a confirmed kill, he was a quadruple-ace... strangely the accomplishment tasted bitter in his mouth as he fought for all he was worth.

* * *

"They're getting butchered out there," Mayfair observed, standing beside Lauren on the bridge of the Excalibur.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked desperately, gripping the back of the command chair, watching helplessly as the pilots pin-wheeled and dove around the Tradeliner. Excalibur was out of ordinance. She had enough to offer AA flak, but without missiles she was effectively out of the fight.

She wasn't Darien; she couldn't simply produce a victory out of thin air. She was Orion trained; a fight was quick, bloody and decisive. You committed everything you had to swift and brutal strikes, holding nothing back. The quicker you dropped your enemy, the quicker you won.

"You need to pull our pilots back to the Excalibur," Mayfair said, folding his arms and coming up beside her, "That, or move Excalibur into the middle of that..." he pointed to the battle, "We can take the brunt of it, split the Predators' attention between our guns and the fighters."

"We don't have that luxury of sitting back and recalling the fighters," Lauren replied, looking over at Commander Durnham, "Can we bring anything more to bear?"

"We have no other reserves," Kit, down on the gunnery level co-ordinating the main weapons looked back up at her, "Everything we have is committed to the fight."

"Not everything," Lauren replied, tightening her hands behind her back, "Execute a three point roll and bring the Excalibur into gunnery range..."

* * *

Darien stared at the magnificent sight of his ship driving into the fray, smiling as he drove towards it, taking advantage of the Dragonfly's manoeuvrability to sweep on near-impossible vectors through the hail of gunfire, slamming up and around a pair of Predators that attempted to intercept him, the fighters coming about to attack again as the thrust lifter streaked down at a completely different angle than it had been on before, swinging around and up again, bursting through the midst of them.

Darien kept focused. "Excalibur from Falcon-One, I am clear of the Tradeliner."

"Falcon-One, Ark-Lead, nice to have you with us, sir." Masconi's voice was a welcome relief, and Darien ducked his head a little to get a better look at the F-120s sitting safely under the Excalibur's gun arcs, peppering gunfire into the battle. The heavily armed Orcas, while unable to deal with the Predators on their own terms, had decided to offer as much fire support as they could by forming a fighter screen about the mighty flagship.

"Ark-Lead, Falcon-One," Darien flipped the Dragonfly into another roll, pinpoint manoeuvres that had the small vessel leaping from side to side, like a crazed and drunk bug. Its engines glowed brightly as it curved about again and screamed into the protective gun arcs. "Cover the 175s and order a full combat landing, we're pulling out..."

Behind them, the Predators peeled off, searching for easier prey.

"I forgot that this ship can move," Nazzien remarked, struggling down the ladder and holding onto a rail for dear life.

"Never underestimate Elias's ingenuity," Kyr replied, bouncing in his bucket seat as the F-175s streaked ahead of the Dragonfly, slotting into a tight escort formation. The doctor's teeth rattled as the Dragonfly dived towards the Excalibur's main flight deck, the fighters switching to manual landings as they desperately tried to get down and secured so that the mighty ship could jump.

The Dragonfly hit the deck with a bounce, her thrusters powering her on a braking slide as the heavy ship skipped across the deck, finally coming to a rest in the emergency barricade that had been deployed for them.

The Excalibur flared and was gone a moment later, as the Amsus troops overran the Shifting Sands.

* * *

Rikard gripped onto the cargo webbing, Xanatos coiled around a large crate, his hands braced on the bulkheads. They had been bounced around inside the small ship as it had manoeuvred desperately. The former Chancellor vowed inwardly to make Sephradon pay for every bump and bruise he had sustained.

"Thisss is fun, no?" the Gorean beamed at him with his broad serpentine lips, "It has been a long time since I had such an adventure..."

Rikard again contemplated dissecting the creature, as the Inspector walked down the ladder into the rear cargo compartment.

"We're away," Taine remarked, inclining his head, walking back to the rear ramp controls and activating them, the hatch sliding open on the crowded Excalibur's hangar deck. Damage control teams and plane crews rushed about to service the fighters and the thrust lifter.

Rikard took a deep breath. It had been so long since he had been on that ship, and it was just the same. Busily a ship of war. VonGrippen's sword, returned from the darkness to plunge into the heart of...

He steadied himself; he was greater than this... another gesture sent his Praetorian loose from him. It would do what it was trained to do, hide and await him. He had to play the part of Nicholas Denver a little longer...

Xanatos slithered past him and down into the ship, the Gorean seeming amazed at the wonders around him. Rikard released the cargo webbing, brushing down his suit and gritting his teeth as he stepped down to the deck.

* * *

Darien nodded to young Mister Firlotte who was taking a quick walk around the thrust lifter, the technician no doubt wondering what he was supposed to do with the ungainly vessel.

Masconi was waiting for the Highlord over by her fighter; she had tucked her helmet under her arm and was pulling open the front of her flight suit shaking her head.

"That bad?" Darien asked, walking to meet her, glancing back at their two guests who were looking lost on the deck of the warship.

"Worse," Masconi admitted to her Skipper, "Those Predators move like... Jesus sir, my pilots are only just able to keep up with them... if those things hit the front lines..."

Darien nodded, recognizing the danger. Folding his arms and looking at the damaged fighters, and noting all the faces that were missing, he had a feeling the Ark-Royal and the Invincible were facing similar losses.

He blew out a long sigh. "We need to make for Taïrian space as fast as we can... Try to get your pilots ready for fighting those things, we're going to come up against a lot more I fear."

Masconi nodded her head. "Oh, and Skipper..."

He turned.

"Katz got his twentieth. I figured you'd want to know," she said as they began to walk towards the machine shops.

"Mark him," Darien said. There were too few milestones left, and while they felt there was nothing to celebrate, morale needed something after that bloodbath.