Conflagration

Plan B

The steam barge made it to the service platform a few minutes before the pilot arrived with Col. Tolbert's fighter. She hopped up on the wing before the ferry pilot could even get out of the cockpit. She was in no mood to wait on him, so she grabbed his flight suit in her claw-hand and "helped" him to the deck below. She slid into the cockpit, fastened her seat restraint, and was off the deck before the canopy even closed.

She got on the radio and called to the other fighters and gunships under her command. "All right, worms, this is Lefty." She identified herself by her fighter pilot's callsign, not her rank as commanding officer. "I think I know what this bitch is gonna do. She's gonna try to outrun us with a high-speed slingshot maneuver around the planet. Squads seven and eight, you guys wait for her on the far side of the planet and when she comes 'round hit her with every EMP you got. Everybody else, follow me. We're gonna chase her through the slingshot and be right on her ass when she comes out. Cocky civvie bitch actually bragged to me one time how her hardpointer could out-accelerate a fighter. Let's prove her wrong."

A chorus of "Yes, ma'am." and "Roger that." came from all eight squad commanders. Col. Tolbert felt a wicked, predatory grin slide up the side of her face that was still capable of expression as she twisted the throttle open wider. She couldn't kill O'Connell once they recaptured the hardpointer; she still needed that girl to activate the control card. But the other one, Ruiz, would pay for all that O'Connell had done. And O'Connell would watch.

* * *

Capt. Villalobos had been sound asleep when the familiar drum tattoos of "To Arms," the ancient call to quarters, had sounded throughout the ship. He had thrown his uniform jacket on over his bare chest and arrived on the bridge just as the Ready Sophia was breaking orbit from SHP 242's third moon.

His first officer, Cdr. Tengrove, gave him an update on the Third Law transmission they'd intercepted.

"I agree," Capt. Villalobos said, "it sounds like Tolbert is losing control of the situation and this might be a good time to strike at them or possibly even take the payload for ourselves."

"And if it's a trap, sir?"

"We'll proceed cautiously. Launch the fighters, but keep them here on station. We've only got five left and I want them protecting the Sophie in case Tolbert is just screwing with us."

"If we can get that lady, then we'll hold all the cards, sir. We can still complete our contract with Safe Harbor and keep the lady as a spoil of war."

"Yes, and without any prospect of getting paid, I think Tolbert will be willing to leave in exchange for just safe passage out of the system."

"It would be nice to finally hold all the cards."

"Captain," the comms officer said, "we're being hailed. It's the pilot of the Noémie freighter. Calling us on the CTAF. Should I respond?"

"Interesting. Ask him what he wants?"

The comms officer spoke into her headset's boom mic. "Noémie Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie. S-H-P-Two-Four-Two System Control. State your intentions." Ens. Sebastian's eyes widened as she listened to the pilot on the other end of the conversation make his request. "Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie, standby."

"Well, what's he want?"

"Sir...um, she wants to just give us the shipment if we distract the enemy long enough for her to charge her TFG. She says she just wants to get out of the system."

She? Capt. Villalobos knew there weren't a lot of female pilots in the Darklands. Could this be Tolbert at the controls of that hardpointer? If so, then this could be a trap after all. But could Tolbert be that sloppy? "Let me talk to this pilot. Gimme your headset."