A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [74]
“Captain Kamarov, you are aware that the Earth Defense Forces have a priority standing order with your people for all ekti shipments, in any amount?”
“As I said, General,” Kamarov replied, his face stony, “we are in free interstellar space here, and the Hansa can’t impose its laws on Roamer clans. We are not signatories to your Charter. You have no right to waylay me. Roamers already provide the EDT with the majority of the ekti we harvest, but we have our own needs.”
“Big surprise,” Fitzpatrick muttered. “Roachers hoarding fuel for themselves.” Then he raised his voice into the comm pickup. “Where did you get all this ekti?”
“Hydrogen is the most plentiful element in the universe, you know.”
“Captain Kamarov, I would think that providing vital supplies to the military that protects all human beings, including Roamer clans, would be your highest priority,” Lanyan said. “We will be happy to relieve you of your cargo and save you the fuel necessary for your trip to Earth.” He had always been annoyed at the space gypsies’ blatant independence. It was time Roamers learned to play well with others.
Despite Kamarov’s indignant protests, the General dispatched a Remora squadron to seize and board the cargo ship, from which they detached the heavy tanks filled with ekti. From the Juggernaut’s bridge, he watched the bearded captain swearing at them; he muted the sound. The fast Remoras brought the valuable ekti cargo back to the big battleship, where it was stowed.
Preparing to depart, Lanyan opened the channel again, picking up Kamarov’s rant in midsentence. “…is piracy, outright piracy. I expect to be compensated for my load! Many Roamers died on blitzkrieg raids to obtain that ekti.”
“It’s a war, Captain,” Lanyan said blandly. “People die for all sorts of reasons.”
Fitzpatrick spoke a quiet, cold warning in the General’s ear. “The Roachers might retaliate for this action, sir. What if they cut us off entirely? They don’t deliver much ekti anymore, but they are our only suppliers.”
“You’re right, Commander Fitzpatrick. Knowledge of this incident could cause trouble.”
“On the other hand, the episode becomes a nonissue if Kamarov never reports to other Roachers. Your orders, General?”
He sat back in his chair, knowing the decision was clear, and also knowing he was crossing a line. He looked at Fitzpatrick, the eager young officer ready to take charge…and, if necessary, to take the blame. Lanyan decided to keep his own hands clean.
He stood. “I’m going to retire to my quarters. Commander Fitzpatrick, you have the bridge for now…and I think you understand what needs to happen here. As we discussed earlier, there are plenty of hazards in space.”
“Yes, sir!”
Lanyan left the bridge deck. He would issue appropriate statements to the crew later.
Fitzpatrick didn’t even wait for the General to reach his quarters before ordering the Juggernaut to open fire on the Roamer cargo ship.
37
CESCA PERONI
At the farthest fringes of the Osquivel system, high above the planetary orbits, light from the sun was only slightly brighter than the shine from distant stars. Roamer cometary-extraction teams had strung together reflectors, solar mirrors, and condensers, as well as nuclear-powered furnaces. The lights of each substation reflected from scattered ice mountains and leftover gravel from the condensation of the solar system.
Piloting a small transport vehicle, Del Kellum ferried Cesca up high above the impressive ring shipyards. He talked without rest, proud of the brash operations he had established in the distant cometary halo.
“We built those monstrous reactor furnaces in the Osquivel rings and kicked them way above the ecliptic. We chose a gravitationally stable place as a corral for the comets. Impelling engines knock them out of their orbits and tote them here for processing.”
“Playing billiards with frozen mountains,” Cesca said.
Kellum laughed as he negotiated the diffuse blizzard of snow fragments. “We don’t usually