12

Hostages

Everyone braced themselves, as the Kl'Deesius performed a single FTL jump. This was a rare occurrence and a dangerous move, as the maximum safe jump distance for a ship like the Kl'Deesius was ten light-years. A single jump of just shy of 12 light years would cause a lot of stress on the FTL drive of the Kl'Deesius, as well as lessen the accuracy of the final jump significantly, but a drive recharge would take potentially several minutes to an hour depending on how quickly power could be diverted to the power capacitors that fed the drive. As time was of the essence, it was decided that the single-jump over the red-line was the more appropriate course of action, and power was diverted from everything that they didn't absolutely need, and that included all of the ships' weapon systems.

They weren't expecting to go into combat in their home system, at least not in space.

"Jump drive charged," the Navigation Sub-Commander reported.

"Jump," Miradima ordered punctiliously.

Everyone felt the jump as it began stretching space-time around and throughout the ship, stretching molecular bonds for a couple of microseconds. It was not long enough to actually cause any damage, but it was long enough to be noticeable to everyone on the ship, and it's what made red-line jumps so uncomfortable for everyone. Miradima would have preferred that a jump gate be installed between systems, but Earth had only just come to their notice in recent history, and so a jump gate linking the two systems was not even on the discussion board yet.

The moment the jump was complete, the Navigation Sub-Commander reported in. "Fleet Commander, jump complete. We are orbiting the primary star just outside of Khift orbital plane."

Khift was the designation that the Tau Cetians gave for the 6th major planet in their system, the Gas Giant that the Tau Ceti first met the Kl'Deesius. Jumping within the orbital plane of the planet was a close call.

"Divert power to propulsion and get us to Midinia as quick as you can," Miradima ordered the Sub-Commander.

The Kl'Deesius, like every other Klankharii vessel in the Fleet, was equipped with gravitic field manipulation nodes across the hull, and a gravitic drive that was maintained separately from the primary FTL drive on the ship. While the two technologies were very similar to each other and were based on the exact same principles of space-time manipulation, gravitic field manipulation was the primary means of STL travel for the Realm. It allowed their vessels to travel at up to thirty-percent light-speed (although it was rare for anyone to attempt such a move) while still being within the local space-time frame of reference. It meant that a ship could cruise within a given system from anywhere within it, with journeys measured in minutes instead of weeks or months. It was also the reason why large spaceships within the Realm's Fleet Arm were capable of combat maneuvring in space to begin with.

* * *

Five minutes after arriving in the system, the Kl'Deesius arrived in orbit of Midan, the parent planet to Midinia where everyone was currently residing. From there, the Kl'Deesius made the quick journey to Midinia, and settled into a low position near Midinia's primary settlement, and just outside the atmosphere. Maintaining this position required substantial power from the ships gravitic propulsion systems, as a natural orbit at this height would normally take the vessel around the planet once every eighty minutes. Maintaining a close watch on the population above this spot was critical as they needed real-time updates on what was going on in the surrounding areas.

"Realm Security in this region report that the assailants took hostages from within the communal kitchens," the communication Sub-Commander reported. "They were dressed just like everyone else, with loose clothing and tattered rags."

Despite the ready-availability of clothing produced by the synthesizers throughout the buildings provisioned for human use in the colony, many of the survivors insisted on keeping some of their distressed clothing from Earth. The reasons were numerous, but usually sentimental in nature. In light of this latest atrocity, that policy would have to be revised.

"It would explain how we knew nothing until the perpetrators had moved into position," Davidson commented, keeping his annoyance under control. They took his friends and colleagues, and they were now threatening to cause harm. This was unacceptable. "That's something we're not going to allow in future," he added coldly.

Miradima could hardly blame him. She was equally furious that this could be allowed to happen. Clearly, they had gotten complacent, believing that their superior technology and obviously superior health compared to Earth's survivors would be enough to forestall any attempts at disharmony in the temporary colony. She had made the mistake of underestimating the dissidents, and this could be costly to the others on the surface. "Open a channel to Fleet Intelligence," she ordered, and waited for the order to be carried out. "Fleet Command to Fleet Intelligence. Xenex One."

A response came over the audio systems on the Bridge. "Fleet Commander?"

"What orbital assets have been tracking this situation while we were out of system?"

"The data is being routed to your vessel now. Intelligence protocol applies."

With that, the communication channel was cut. Miradima expected this, since Fleet Intelligence was not one to engage in idle conversation under any circumstances. However, her request was clearly granted, and the Tactical Sub-Commander reported receipt of new tactical data streams within a few seconds.

"Any live feeds from the area?" Miradima asked.

"Yes Commander," the Sub-Commander replied. "Do you wish them transferred to any station?"

"On the main display," Miradima ordered. Immediately, the massive display at the front of the ship was updated. From that vantage point, an exceptionally-clear live image of the ground complex showed a crowd of people surrounding a large pre-fab building, with Tau Cetian security guards keeping everyone at a distance. No-one was within the circle that could be seen from orbit. "Do we have triangulation for this position?"

"No, Commander." The response from Tactical was subdued, as if disappointed.

Miradima understood. The additional tracking data and imagery would have allowed the onboard computer systems to assemble a real-time three-dimensional projection of the entire site, allowing a tactical overlay that could have proven useful.

Still, in this case, it was not to be.

"Fetch historical imagery for the previous thirty minutes and scan it for activity," Miradima ordered.

"Yes Commander," Tactical replied. Within a few minutes, he announced "We have it," and without prompting, played back from a few seconds before.

Everyone watched the view of a milling crowd, all preparing for the day's next meal. Miradima thought she could recognize John and Stephen from overhead despite not seeing their faces at a direct line of sight. She was stunned as twelve people all suddenly sprung into action, brandishing makeshift weapons, grabbing bystanders and dragging them into the building. Within seconds, despite the reaction of the security teams on the surface, every hostage had been dragged into the building, their assailants covered by dissidents who seemed prepared to throw their lives away for this action. Shortly after that, security had established control and had everyone in the are moved out of the hostage zone, all while being engaged by assailants with makeshift ranged weapons and a few improvized explosives. This harrying action was enough to prevent security from taking control of the building and put them at a clear disadvantage. Miradima watched as one was seriously injured by an explosive, only to thump his chest plate, causing an emergency molecular transportation that removed him from danger. The others were doubly alert and extended the circle outward to ensure no-one else got close.

Miradima was incandescent with fury, though she kept her temper in check. "Fleet Command to Midinia Security. Come online," she ordered.

"Security Station Fifty-Three," was the immediate reply.

"Status update?"

"Twelve hostages taken, currently held in the human distribution building near the edge of the settlement. Unknown number of assailants. They've destroyed all of the surveillance equipment in the building and barricaded the portals."

"Intelligence reports they've a list of demands. What are they?"

"We are to send them transport ships to take them back to Earth. They're also demanding we disembark from those ships. They're demanding we leave the Sol system and leave the humans there with the ships. If we don't comply, they will start killing hostages."

Miradima strove for calm. Threatening to kill people that she had come to rely on as friends was a step too far. Stephen. John. Helen.

"We have molecular transportation," Davidson suggested to her. "They don't."

Miradima stared at him for a moment, wondering why she hadn't considered that as a tool to use as a contingency. "I'm amazed I didn't even consider that," she told him, keeping her shame to herself. If she were honest with herself, it should have been the first thing she thought of in dealing with this latest threat. "Tactical. We need an internal layout of that building. Can you overlay it and see about getting some radiological signatures of the inhabitants?"

"Yes Commander," the Tactical Sub-Commander replied, enthusiasm entering his voice for the first time since the crisis began. "Overlay on screen. Thermal scanners inside the pre-fabs were left intact so we have that data."

Miradima smiled to herself. They probably never considered the idea that the systems used to help ensure an even temperate climate internally in all the buildings could be used to give a thermal graphic of everyone inside. She didn't have to wait, either. The viewscreen flashed with the building view and an overlay of all the heat signatures inside. Some of them were moving, as though on some kind of patrol pattern. Others were grouped in different zones. The largest group appeared to be held in a central area of the complex, around a surface object of some kind.

A table, perhaps. Maybe they were planning their next move?

The downside to this was that no-one could discern who was hostage and who was assailant.

"Tactical. Mark all of those targets as potential hostiles. Ship Commander to Security Station Fifty-Three. Mobilize a detachment of soldiery to deploy inside the building. We're going to transport directly inside the building at key locations and then deploy stun weaponry to contain the situation. Have your men ready to move in ten minutes."

"Yes Fleet Commander," the station coordinator on the line with Miradima confirmed.

After ten minutes had passed, some orders given and tactical planning concluded, their plan went into effect. The only order Miradima gave was "Now."

She waited, along with her Bridge crew, Davidson, and the security station coordinator, as a detachment of soldiery were molecularly transported directly inside the building. Their combined tactical knowledge, training, health and numbers quickly overwhelmed the insurgents inside the building, incapacitating everyone.

"Targets subdued," the commander on the scene reported.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the coordinator at Security Station Fifty Three told his ground commander. "Hostiles neutralized, Fleet Commander."

Miradima didn't bother to mention that she had heard it. They were following protocol. "Understood. Have the detainees transferred to my ship. We will determine who is who. Fleet Command out."

The communication link was cut.

"Transport handshake engaged, Fleet Commander," the Operations Sub Commander reported. "We're receiving the first batch of prisoners. Routing their transport to the lower Cargo Bays."

"Walter?" Miradima asked Davidson, hoping he would join her to look over the prisoners.