Resolve

[Squad]

Part I of II

*tink*… *tink*…*tink*tink*tink*...*tink*......*tink*.........*tink*

The rattle of Mansel's mug had grown to be a universal signal of safe passage through the hundreds of jump hole sequences the Esperanza had gone through month after month. From his "captain's" chair, being little more than a spare navigation operations station, Mansel un-crossed his legs, bringing the mug to his lips.

I'm still not terribly sure how long I'll have you, but I might as well enjoy your aromatic, steeping goodness as much as I can.

As he sighed to himself, the rest of the ship's crew began inputting coordinates for the next part of the journey. Though the Lance's "distribution operations," as Mansel half-heartedly called them, had grown considerably, he still had a knack for running the more expensive or politically important routes aboard the Esperanza himself.

If you expect it of your crew, they'll expect it of you.

"Mr. Moncado, you have the helm. I suspect the California jump hole to be rather safe, but cut our path close to Curacao to keep out of scan range if anything is moving through the lanes."

Without as much of a nod from the Esperanza's Second-in-Command, Mansel stood up and made for the viewing windows at the side of the bridge. Curacao's vast oceans came into view, her swirling ocean storms casting wide grey and white arms over her almost silky blue skin.

"Signore Alcanta, we've got several contacts on scanner. Outside of visual range, but they're there." Fabrizio Corona's weasel-eyes surveyed the scanning and targeting systems searching for as many "bloops" and "bleeps" as he could find under his rather long nose.

"What's their bearing from Curacao?"

"On the other side of the trade lanes toward the west. I'll bet they're near the star, I'm getting quite a bit of solar feedback from their signals."

"Number?"

"Thirty, maybe more. I can't get an accurate read from here."

Thirty. Perhaps four or five I might expect if our arrival was planned. Perhaps an ambush?

"Counting thirty-five."

Not for a smuggling train, though.

"Forty."

No, this is something else.

"Twenty-Eight."

Mansel peered up from his tea.

"How did we go from forty to twenty-eight in three seconds?"

"I don't know, everything seems to be working as well as I could ask. These are just the contact numbers I'm getting."

"Mr. Moncado, pull us in orbit around the planet, but keep us in its shadow. I'd like us to have a peek in that direction, if you will."


The Esperanza's thrusters pushed the massive ship with all of their might sideways toward the blue marble of Curacao. Mansel watched the storm that had caught his eye earlier, half in the light of the system's sun, half covered in shadow, two flailing arms reaching around its circular core.

Such a deadly embrace looks almost peaceful from up here.

"Signore, you'll have to take a look at this."

Moncado activated the main viewing panel's ultraviolet filter and opened the external radiation shield.

Mansel touched his nose to the panel, blinding light reflecting off his almost white week-old beard, reds filling the slight wrinkles around his mouth, blues jumping around his grey hairline.

"My God."

In the most eerie of silences, plasma streams from damagesd engines and power cores were dancing around the sun's corona, their flow tangling intimately with the star's electromagnetic field. A fine partner.

Around the dancers, the fire from what seemed an armada of invisible snubs swatted against the hull of two white behemoths, each spewing blue rage from their secondary batteries. The debris of dozens of ships floated within range of the jump lanes, many pieces bumping into the rings, serving as haphazard slaps of annoyance.

"Mr. Moncado, back us up a bit. If we can see them, they may be able to see us."

As the Esperanza's thrusters again seemingly strained against her bulk, Mansel took a deep breath before sitting his mug down on the ledge besides the window panel.

"Signore, we've got a rescue pod within tractor range."

It blended in well with the other debris that had begun almost to swallow the Esperanza where she held steady. On their way to burning in Curacao's atmosphere, many chunks of hull, electrical components, ordinance, and even the occasional disabled ship saw fit to pelt the Esperanza's holds.

One final act of defiance it seems.

"Gentlemen, it seems our worries in this part of Sirius are much the greater. I had no doubt in my mind the Gauls would press pass Leeds, but I didn't know the push would come here before threatening New London."

He turned to the crew.

"This does nothing but emphasize the importance of what we do for the Famiglia. The more they threaten our allies and our supply lines, the more firm their ultimate squeeze on Malta becomes. Let's add Warwolfs and Valors to the list of things to dodge, shall we?"

Mansel received a half-hearted round of laughter from his men, but their nervousness was written on their faces in twitches, sweat, and wrinkled foreheads.

As well they should be.

"Mr. Moncado, continue course to California. We've a job to do."

The Esperanza's massive cruise engine lit below the ship, and she pushed her way through the increasingly dense debris field.

"How many contacts?"

"Two."

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