Shadow of Freedom

Why? she wondered. Why does every single idiot in a Navy uniform think the frigging Manties are ten meters tall? Why can’t any of them see that it doesn’t matter how good their damned missiles are? They’re one little pimple of a “star nation,” and Frontier Security should have squashed them years ago instead of letting them get so fucking full of themselves. Them and their precious wormhole. They think it makes them the lords of creation, that their shit doesn’t stink! But they’re about to find out differently, aren’t they? That maniac Gold Peak’s gone too far, and now her precious Star Empire knows exactly how a cockroach feels before the hammer comes down.

Personally, Francisca Yucel couldn’t wait for that moment, and she was getting sick and tired of so-called officers who couldn’t get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that any Manty with a brain bigger than a radish had to be scared shitless of pissing the League off even worse.

“Commander,” she said after a long, fulminating moment, “there’s no way the Manties would risk another shooting incident with the SLN, especially in a podunk little system like this one. Whatever they may have managed to do to Admiral Crandall at Spindle, I doubt they brought their damned system defense pods along with them. And even if they have, they have to know what would happen to them in a real war with the League. Gold Peak might be crazy enough to push it, but by this time, their government has to be trying to figure out some way—any way—to crawl out of the crack she’s gotten them into. If these bastards had gotten here before us, managed to help the frigging terrorists overthrow President Lombroso and then signed some sort of treaty with the ‘new government,’ that might be one thing. But they don’t have even that much of a legal fig leaf. That leaves them with no standing at all under interstellar law, and the League would have every right to assist Lombroso in resisting any demands they might make. That’s a tripwire nobody in command of a force this small is going to want to cross.”

Watson looked at her com image, trying to believe she might be right. Unfortunately, he didn’t think she was. And even more unfortunately, she was in command.

“So what, exactly, do you want me to do, Ma’am?” he asked finally.

“I don’t want you to do anything, Commander. Just sit there. They’re the ones intruding into Mobian space, so let them do the talking when they finally realize we got here before them.”

“And if they start making threats, Ma’am?”

“Then you tell them to go straight to hell, Commander,” she said flatly.

* * *

“Coming up on thirty-one million kilometers, Sir,” Commander Lewis announced.

“Thank you, Stilt.”

Terekhov took another sip from the cup of coffee Chief Steward Agnelli had just delivered to him, then looked at Lieutenant Montella.

“Are you ready to transmit, Atalante?”

“Yes, Sir.” Montella grinned at him. She was rather looking forward to this. “Whenever you are, Sir.”

“Fine. Helen?” Terekhov smiled at Helen and held out his coffee cup. “Take care of this for me for a few minutes, would you? It probably wouldn’t help my hard-bitten commodore’s image.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sir.” She smiled back as she took the cup obediently. “Personally, I think it might actually underscore your aura of confidence.”

“Of course it would. Just don’t go drinking it!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir. Joanna would hurt me.”

Terekhov chuckled with a bit more amusement than he actually felt, then turned back to face the com pickup.

“All right, Atalante. Let’s do it.”

* * *

“Sir!” Lieutenant Shang announced. “I’ve got a com request from the Manties!”

Commander Watson looked up quickly. The announcement was scarcely unexpected. In fact, the tension of not hearing from the Manties had been twisting his nerves tighter and tighter as the silent juggernaut of those tactical icons swept steadily towards his own outnumbered and outgunned command.