The Auditor

Act 5

A Moreauverse Novella

“We're in Jericho, the captain may need you on the bridge." Salen warned as he tightened, making Johan grunt again.

“Clean jump, emergence plus four hundred seven thousand kilometers." Navigation reported as soon as the stars had changed from red dwarf to Jericho system's warm yellow sphere. “No deviation, right at the edge of the envelope." The feline cast a glance over at the captain. “Far closer than they expect something our size could get."

“No attitude change from vessels in orbit." Sensors called out. “Our light cone should cross the planet in about three seconds."

“And that's when they'll shit their kittens." Comms chuckled, though quietly. Arrayed around the Commodore's Choice the three frigates slipped slightly away, becoming more visible to whatever long-range optics were likely already being focused in their direction, wondering who the ships were offering no identification transponders.

Another chuckle came from the next station. “I think the proper phrase is 'shit kittens', Grat'an." Signals said quietly from the next station. He was from the Alliance, she knew, so would probably know the proper turn of phrase. “And that's if they're even looking. It'll be about two minutes before the energy wake from our jump reaches them."

For several minutes nothing happened as the Choice and her escort group increased their velocity toward the inner system, still running dark.

A hail blipped on the comms officer's station. “Hail from the Red Lance." Which was, once they turned their transponders back on, would become the Golden Cuirass of the Silver Shields.

“Put it on." The captain said.

“Clean in, Captain. Got a data packet back from the Orion already, says they'll be moving for a better vantage of the fireworks and are more than happy to have some fun playing cats and mice with CODA."

“We have a secure channel to them?"

“We do now." The doberman said with a nod, bright teeth gleaming in his russet and black muzzle as he leered. “Routing through the local public system feed via an entertainment app or something. Veylar could tell you more." He shrugged.

Bander nodded and the window winked out. “Signals, tell us what we've got?" On the forward display the system was nothing more than a blue orb striated with white and green, various ships and other objects little more than dots of light highlighted with various icons.

“Four Alliance ships; two cruiser class or at least expected mass, two destroyers sticking close to the one we've identified as the Suvla Bay, two hundred kilometer separation. The fourth is cruiser mass in a geosynch roughly twenty thousand above the equator, no immediate escorts apparent. A lot of light freighter and transport traffic. Synthesis reports that CODA has no major assets planetside other than a small garrison at the Karlsef spaceport near the equator. No marines or ground combat assets in use supporting Arcadian Jericho action against the Commonwealth of Kashkin."

“So CODA did quit the conflict." captain Bander's ears twitched, “Someone must have dropped the ball or quit paying their bills. That'll certainly work to our favor. Daeron, what's your take on the plot?"

Sensors spoke up first, “Targeting pulse, captain, low amplitude. Probably a scan to verify what their optics are trying to resolve. From the Farragut. They're maneuvering, coming broadside to increase their baseline for better resolution."

“Give the Red Lance return the favor, single pass, civilian mode."

“Copy."

“Daeron?"

“They're too deep into the gravity well for standard operations, especially the Suvla Bay. With no ground assets I'd say they're moving in to launch fighters and establish local air superiority, likely for the Arcadian forces. Or shell them from orbit. Not sure about the one in geostationary, perhaps observers or diplomatic."

“That's no carrier, that's a direct weapons platform." Jack observed, highlighting the Suvla Bay and its escorts with a claw tip. “What could they launch?"

“They could still support a few wings of starfighters, or orbital recovery air superiority fighters. Probably not for very long, though, given they've no actual carrier in their group for flight ops."

“Any idea when they could begin an operation like that?"

“None, but I doubt they'll commit flight assets with three questionable warships coming at them without squawking. They'll want to hold any starfighters they might have for us."

“Score one for us, then. Navigation, how long before we'll be able to establish orbit?"

Navigation's reply was immediate, they were ready for the question. “About a day, roughly, but we can't get closer than twelve thousand kilometers with our mass. I would recommend a sync orbit at twenty-one thousand, sir. That should take twelve or so hours."

“Twelve thousand for launch operations?"

“Aye, if we're going to drop anything. The frigates can get well within one thousand on escort, the corvettes and fighters all the way to landfall."

“Good." He yawned and stretched, rocking on the pads of his unshod paws. “That's good. No one's going to be in range for more than poking each other with high diffusion scanning sweeps for the better part of a day." The shepherd rocked forward and back on broad, unshod paws. “On that note, I'm going to retire, I'm well past my own Z-watch. Commander Bander, you have the conn. Have Grady take over when he's back on duty. Wake me if anyone takes a shit with the fan on."

Daeron snapped a salute - with his coffee mug. “Aye, cap'n, I have the conn until relieved by subcaptain Grant, aye." The captain gave him a raised eyebrow and he gave a great performance of suddenly realizing he still held his mug. “Sleep well, pup." He added in a quiet aside. Jack nodded with a weary smile.

“Communications, any word back from the Red Lance? Were they able to chat up that Orion?"

“Nothing as of yet, sir." The comm officer replied, well used to the flotilla commander taking over the bridge. “Shall I send an inquiry?"

“If you would, please." Daeron moved to the captain's chair and eased down into it. Moments later the visage of his mate appeared on a sub-display on the main view.

“Commander, we've been in contact with the Krasni Kakaz and they're moving into a new position to, as they call it, watch the fireworks." The doberman reported soberly but with a gleam in his dark brown eyes at seeing Daeron at the helm.

“And keep those Defense Authority warships guessing. Any idea if they'll step in if the fireworks actually start popping off?"

The doberman shook his head, “I would expect that to be unlikely. It would create a major incident for the Grand Orion that I doubt they would be well pleased with. Tensions aren't high but certainly there. We're picking up higher IR output from the trailing destroyer, the Yeager; they're maintaining an alert status with them in its shadow."

“Commander Daeron." Johan's voice came from the bridge doorway as he stepped in, Salen, as ever, ghosting at his side. The dye removers had begun their work, his stripes were beginning to fade back to their normal whiteness. It would take a few days for them to regain their snowy lack of color, though. “What's the situation?"

“Well, lad, we're on approach to Jericho and it seems that we're just in time for the show." Daeron cast a glance back, smiled, and returned his attention to the plot on the main display. “The CODA warships are holding a low orbit, probably getting ready to start shelling targets on the planet and I have serious doubts it'll be the humans in the crosshairs."

“Local feeds indicate that a polity called the 'Jericho Business Council', or JBC, has been pushing to annex the moreau territory for some years and have finally decided to try." A brown and white border collie seated at the signals station, a member of information synthesis, added. “They haven't been paying their Alliance dues, however, so CODA has declined to intercede directly on the ground. The news feeds are chaotic but we get the impression that it is not going well for the JBA military's ground forces, they've been halted or pushed back on multiple fronts. The Commonwealth of Kashkin forces have moved into a position that has allowed them to shell the major spaceport in the Arkadian Jerico territories; McKeever. This has resulted in considerable damage to both military and civilian structures and a general exodus of major cities and settlements near the conflict area.

“Separating fact from fiction in the broadcasts, as usual, has led to mixed results in synthesizing an accurate tactical image of the situation but I believe the commander may be correct. A decisive orbital attack will set the Commonwealth on its hind paw, perhaps break their ability to prosecute their side of the conflict effectively. If those ships do start shelling they'll be crippled, perhaps disastrously so, and will fall to JBC ground forces within days if not hours."

Johan stared at the plot for several seconds before nodding. “And it's unlikely the Kashkin has anything that can deal with attacks from orbit." He rocked on his feet and rolled his shoulders. “That will have to be our job. How long before we're in orbit?"

“About eleven hours, sir, at twenty-two thousand, another six to twelve thousand." Navigation reported.

“Time to start planning, then. Communications, see if you can get in contact with anyone of authority in the Commonwealth, civilian or military, either way. Patch it through to the captain's ready room. Daeron, let's put our heads together and see what we can come up with."

“Lieutenant Chrras, you have the conn." Daeron said as he stood and followed Johan toward the ready room.

“Sir? Me, sir?" The marten at the tactical center said in surprise.

“Why, yes, son. You're the current senior bridge officer, are you not?"

The marten looked around, tail tucking and ears backing as his whiskers twitched. “Uh, I am, sir."

Daeron chuckled softly. “Relax, son, we're just on approach. All you have to do is monitor what's on the plot and let navigation do the work. If captain Grant arrives before mister Johan and I return, release the conn to him."

“Sir, aye, sir. I have the conn."

“You have the conn."

Seated on the long couch in the ready room with Salen close at his side, the skunk's lush tail extended to one side and draping over the arm of the couch, Johan looked up as Daeron entered. “Any thoughts?"

“You two are comfy." Was his first reply as he smiled down at his old friends. Despite their years working closely together they had never been intimate but Daeron never thought about it; he had his new mate, and his son returned to him, which made life once again enjoyable.

Johan chuckled and Salen grinned that sharp toothed white expression that lit up his dark furred face. “Considering I thought I had lost him I'm loath to let him out of my sight. Or touch."

“Agreed." Daeron dropped into a chair opposite the two and stretched. “As for CODA looming over the colony, well, there's a lot we can do without directly engaging them. Bluff, chiefly. They don't know that we're effectively a fleet support carrier which will certainly work to our favor. I say we puff out our chest and bluff."

“My thoughts, too." Johan nodded, one hand stroking Salen's neck above the collar of his shirt. “Here's what I think."

“You're daft." Captain Bander said, two shifts later, as he sat behind his desk and gawked across at the humans. “The Council ponied up enough money and resources for two entire orbital stations to procure this ship and you want to try goading four warships into backing off? Warships?" He shook his head, whiskers and ears backed. “The Choice is already flagged as problematic and disruptive, with ties to independence movements in Alliance space. Poking CODA in the nose will not help matters in the least." He turned his attention toward his father by love if not lineage. “And you're already considered a pirate, father, which is why you stay off of visual comms."

“Aye, son, a pirate but not a bloodthirsty raider. The Alliance well knows I don't go around attacking random shipping, nor do the Dogs, and that just makes them give us the wary side eye rather than actively hunting us down. And I was one of them, once. I know that they're worse than any ravening pirate, but with the Alliance charter to hide behind. They haven't started shelling the Kashkin, yet, while they wait for clearance to do so or are granted operational leeway to act. Since they haven't, I believe they'll at least put up a good show of restraint. They'll back off. Especially with all of the independent ships, and the Grand Orion, watching. They don't want any direct conflict any more than you do."

“You're going to be putting your ships, your people, in a lot of danger if they aren't reasonable."

Daeron nodded soberly, “No more than we've faced in the past, just with a lot more publicity. They engage us and win, it'll be a bad mark on their record that they can't just wipe away with some propaganda. Those freighters moving people off of the planet to safety won't stay silent and they'll lite out of here the moment ships start shooting. And if they engage us and lose, well, that'll be a hell of a black eye."

“And get us hunted through all of Alliance space, and beyond." The captain retorted, though without heat, thick tail twitching in agitation, ears rotated back but not flat. “If we win we'll be tipping our hand about things we don't want the Alliance to know, not yet." His brown eyes flicked to Johan who nodded.

A chime sounded from the desk and the shepherd tapped its surface. “Yes?"

“Sir, we're approaching our optimal orbital insertion point. Should we begin adjusting course and attitude?"

He eyed the two humans as did the monochromatic shadow seated at Johan's side for a few seconds. “No, maintain our course for twelve thousand kilometers and establish a deployment orbit for the Commonwealth of Kashkin."

“Ay kay, sir. Six hours. Communications also has a message to relay."

“Put them on."

“Sirs, I have received communication from the Commonwealth that they have contacted a member of their ruling council willing to speak with us. An economics councilor named Levin."

“Transfer it here." Bander said and the channel closed. The captain swiped the oncoming signal over to the main display on the briefing table and they got up to seat themselves around one end of the table as the hologram swam with opalescent colors awaiting connection. Daeron stayed seated, however, so he would not be picked up by the imager in the tabletop.

After a short wait it resolved into the head and shoulders of an exhausted looking black and white border collie template moreau who gave each of them a glance before nodding. “I am finance minister Levin, of the Commonwealth of Kashkin, sirs. Whom may I ask is requesting this contact?"

“I am Captain Jack Bander of the Commodore's Choice, a freighter you may have discovered approaching orbit. My associates are Johan, our diplomatic and trade liaison, and his majordomo, Salen. Greetings to you, minister Levin."

“Greetings to yourselves, captain, mister Johan, Salen. What may I ask is the purpose of this communication? As you no doubt have discerned, things are harried here at the moment."

“We have." Johan said warmly, smiling. “We are here to witness the establishment and acknowledge the legitimacy of the Commonwealth of Kashkin, the first truly independent moreau colony within Alliance territory. We are also here to extend a wish that we might establish trading relations with the Commonwealth, and to offer supplies that we have in abundance and you may require during these trying times."

The border collie sighed softly and shook his head, “I am sorry, mister Johan, but we are not currently capable of the expenditures necessary to procure supplies."

Johan's smile widened, “No expenditures are necessary on your behalf, minister, nor the Commonwealth itself. This would be a… hmm, how might I say… A housewarming gift, congratulating your people for their new found freedom."

One of the collie's ears twitched and his gaze swept to each of them, visible in his own holograph somewhere on the planet below. “That would be greatly appreciated, Commodore's Choice. What manner of supplies might you be providing, and how would you deliver them? Freighter traffic is being interdicted before they are able to de-orbit and any who attempt to deliver from neutral territory are under extreme threat of being shot down before they arrive." His eyes darted to something outside of his imager's field of view. “And I see that the Choice is far too large for planetary landing. A super heavy?"

“It is, and we are still capable of delivering supplies. Currently we have cargo pods that can be landed from orbit, and sufficient escorts to see that they get through. We will, however, need sufficient space for them to land as they are quite large. Too large to return to space, as a matter of fact, intended for supplying colonies being established in areas without sufficient infrastructure for light freighter traffic."

Leven seemed skeptical but maintained his professional bearing despite his harried, hastily groomed appearance. “How big, and how much space would they need?"

“Seventy by thirty by twenty meters, minister, and their landing drives would require approximately a one kilometer radius for the safety of anything on the ground." Johan's smile widened and he chuckled at the slight unhinging of the collie's jaw.

“Seve… a kilometer? That's bigger than a lighter, sir. Quite a bit bigger. Our space port cannot handle anything half that size."

“Yes, sir." Johan nodded. “They would necessarily require a large space with no assets that might be destroyed during the landing process."

“I… don't know what to say, sirs. This is wholly unexpected, given the current conflicts surrounding our independence. I will confer with my peers on the council and determine how best to receive this. What supplies are aboard the, ah, containers?"

“General colony startup support; building materials, fabricators, medical supplies, things such as that. No weapons nor weaponable materials." Johan paused and fixed the collie's holographic visage with an even stare. “Unless there is a need for such material."

Levin shook his head rapidly, ears twitching as he tried to parse what was being offered. “No, no, not at this time. There is also the CODA blockade to evade. If they suspect that those containers hold weaponry they will not hesitate to fire upon them."

“The CODA ships in orbit do pose a hazard, to you more than us considering their orbital proximity." Johan agreed.

The collie's ears drooped and he nodded soberly. “We are aware that they have moved into a tighter orbit, which can only mean they intend to launch some manner of strike which we can do nothing to prevent, nor counter. The Business Council has been quite adamant that they support the Arkadian offensive but, thus far, they have remained aloof, though hardly neutral."

“Our presence has forestalled any immediate action, and we intend to block any other offensive measures they may intend. Your colony has support, minister Levin, and there are many eyes watching to see how it plays out. We are here to see that it flourishes."

“You have my thanks, gentlemen, and that of the Commonwealth. Unless there is anything further, I will take this information, and your offer, before the Council. Understand if there is some delay in getting back to you." His ears lifted and drooped with clear exhaustion. “Anything you can do to keep those ships in orbit out of the fray would be greatly appreciated."

“You have other concerns, yes, we understand." Johan bowed from his seat. “It will take a couple of days, local time, for us to prepare the cargo containers for drop so there is no hurry. Nan'tag, minister Levin." He finished, in as close to flawless Nakath Rhukat as a human could manage.

The collie's ears twitched up again at the usage. “Thank you, gentlemen." Levin bowed in return and the holograph shimmered back to its normal opalescent white.

“Well, at least they know that they're not alone." Captain Bander said after a moment. “If you intend to carry through with this, Johan, let's best be getting prepared. The Voices of the Eight will be wroth with you for not getting a good deal on those supplies, though."

“Even if it means getting a solid beachhead within the Alliance? If the Kashkin extends trade negotiations we will have the closest point of entry from Kurlair. Two jumps instead of five. I suspect that the Commonwealth will turn down the supplies, at any rate." Johan said with a shrug.

“Turn them down? That's more than ten lighters' worth of material!" The captain said, surprised.

“They'll see it as a handout, and from strangers at that. They'll expect strings."

“There would be, naturally." Daeron grunted as he ambled over to the table and set down a quartet of tumblers before pouring a shimmering golden hued spirit into them. “Though not as onerous as they might fear. Trade relations, someplace to lay over between operations, and to bring refugees so long as they can support them." The scar faced man chuckled and sipped his drink, sucking his teeth as it burned down his throat. “And a good place to transport goods into the Alliance that can hide their provenance. I've heard that both Kurlair and Capelli have an overabundance of resources they can't trade anymore since the Conflict no longer needs them, but the Alliance still needs in abundance." He paused, then laughed. “And will even moreso with the loss of that mining outpost. They'll need to shift their weapons developments to use other materials, which those worlds have heaps of. Win win, and no technology exchange required."

“It'd be a start. We still need someplace like this as a staging point to enter Alliance territory." The younger Bander said with a nod, swirling his drink a moment before sipping. “Best to see it gets off to solid footing, whether or not they accept our largesse." He stood and stretched, quaffing the last of his drink with a growl, ears going flat at the bite of it, before setting his tumbler back on the table. “Shall we, gentlemen? There is much to do."

“Secure orbit achieved, sir, twelve thousand one hundred kilometers, attitude stable." Navigation reported as the stars ceased their slow progress past the edges of the forward view which now showed the planet in all of its glory. It was no longer a tiny green, blue, and white orb but dominated the view. A few cities were highlighted on the plot and a few clusters of military forces that they were able to resolve from so far away.

“Open ablation shields and launch corvettes." Captain Bander ordered, standing from his relaxed pose in his chair. The first act had opened and he could not bear to sit through the scene. “Have the Folly assume a close posture above and forward, within five hundred meters. Frigates are to remain in escort position and maintain at combat alert level."

“Affirmative, captain. Shields elevating." That was a slow process considering the shields which protected the Choice's superstructure and the cargo pods affixed to it were two meters or more thick, one hundred fifty wide, and seven hundred long. That was a great deal of mass to move. Most of it was frozen water under several centimeters of hardened metal alloys for radiation absorption but more than hard enough to sustain good sized impacts. Only their lower port shield had suffered any noticeable ablation during their ride through the shockwave, pitted and scarred with a few places showing the deep black of space hardened ice beneath.

That ice did not care, whatsoever, for the heat of Jericho's sun, creating plumes of mist whenever their orbit allowed light to reach those rents. It turned them, for brief periods, into a large cometary object high above the surface of the planet.

“Shields opened, corvettes undocking." Superfluous information as the sub-displays showed the long vessels emerging from the modified cargo pods that housed them, sensors and solar collectors unfurling to glint in the starlight. One of them, the Porn Star's Folly, moved out of view of any camera, taking up its post forward and above the bow of the Choice to shield their primary weapon from view or casual scans. The huge cargo hauler did have a great many lesser weapons, primarily point defense in nature, common to all freighters everywhere, but the gravity ripper was entirely a development of the Eternal Conflict and well beyond the conventional technology of the Alliance or any of its peers.

If it came to a fight those big ships would be in for a rude awakening. Unfortunately, it was pretty much wholly ineffective against things like fighters, or much of anything smaller than a frigate.

“Corvettes away, all fighters manned and on ready standby."

“Go hot."

Immediately three of the corvettes peeled away from their small flotilla, activating all of their sensors, and bolted toward the planet below on a course that would cross the orbital path of the CODA strike group.

“Farragut just lit up, Suvla Bay and Yeager just lit up. Active sensor sweeps of corvette group. IR indicates stand-off weapons going online." Sensors barked and the marten back at his post at tactical cackled in glee as adrenaline made all of his exposed fur fluff. Indeed, all across the bridge hackles and tails bushed as they prepared for… anything.

“Artillery?"

“No change; planet side artillery port bays closed." After an interminable wait, as their corvettes drew further and further away the marten spoke up again. “CODA cruiser has launched fighters. Two wings of six ships vectoring toward the corvettes, ninety minutes to engagement range."

“Acknowledged. The corvettes are to maintain course." For several minutes no one said much beyond brief, terse reports between stations. Captain Bander raised one hand, slightly. “Communications, tell the Krasni we're in position."

“Aykay." A pause. “Message sent, acknowledgment received." They spoke up a minute later, their voice smug. “Vessel Suvla Bay is hailing us, sir."

Captain Bander did not respond for several long seconds that drew into a minute, almost two, before he did. Lifting his lips he bared his teeth in a deadly canine grin. “Put it through, wide angle. Let them see the bridge."

The irritated face of a young, crisply uniformed human female appeared in a sub pane, their eyes flicking as they took in the view from their end. If the fact that their view encompassed more moreaus than humans it did not show through her crisp, military look of disapproval. “Unidentified heavy cargo transport, this is the Defense Authority cruiser Suvla Bay . You have not received authority to approach planet Jericho nor deploy escort craft beyond your immediate protective cordon. Recall your escort vessels immediately."

“I am Captain Jack Bander of the free trade freighter Commodore's Choice . We are in the process of shuttling supplies and trade goods down to the independent colony of Kashkin. Our escort vessels are moving into position to facilitate the safe transfer of cargo transit containers to the planet's surface. Those will be deployed in six hours via the standard approach beacons."

The view of the communications officer on the Suvla Bay flickered and another face appeared, older and harder than the previous female, epaulets on his shoulder revealing his rank of Captain, replaced it. “ Commodore's Choice, negative. Say again, change course or we will open fire. The Colonial Defense Authority has been given control over Alliance traffic to the planet."

Before Captain Bander could reply Johan stepped forward, his bearing and unadorned though severe blue uniform gave the impression that he outranked the shepherd moreau standing in front of the Captain's seat. “I understand that. But we are not Alliance." Johan said in a cool, severe, yet formal voice. “This is an open planet. We will begin deorbiting protocols in six hours. We request that you not interfere."

While he spoke captain Bander uttered a few words, purposely not transmitted on the open channel. “Step it up a notch." The communications officer sent a signal on another channel. At the tactical station the marten's nimble claw tipped fingers danced across his control panel and, in space, similar officers did similar things on their own ships. The brackets over the three Defense Authority ships shifted and sharpened, scrolling tactical data. In the sub pane of the main view the CODA captain's eyes twitched toward something they could not see and then back, his regard hardening.

“Commodore's Choice, we can see that you're targeting us. You have one minute to alter course or be treated as hostile. Signal intent to comply immediately."

Neither Johan nor Captain Bander moved, merely shifted their focus from the opposing captain to the situational plot as tactical data continued to compile about the cruiser and its two destroyers. Much of it was tainted with the orange of questionable, potentially negative, outcomes should it come down to exchanging weapons fire. “ Kavkaz is maneuvering, sirs, adjusting course and attitude. No active sensors." After a few minutes the report continued. “They have adopted an obscuring position between the inbound flight and the Suvla Bay at one thousand kilometers separation from the CODA group."

“Thank you, navigation. Have the corvettes maintain course and keep their sensors live." The shepherd cast Johan a concerned glance, the tension was ratcheting up, but the human at his side did not seem perturbed. At least his father was not on one of those corvettes, his Folly was maintaining its position forward of the Choice, sensors as active as those of the approaching trio.

“Captain!" The marten at tactical churped, his voice breaking as he looked up at the main display where a lingering digital artifact defined a straight line from the Farragut toward deep space, missing the lead corvette by less than fifteen kilometers. “CODA destroyer Farragut just fired at the Broken Fang, across their trajectory, twelve kilometer separation."

“At." Johan said levelly. “It was a warning shot."

Despite wanting to have the corvettes break off the captain said nothing. This was his father's idea, with Johan's support, and he would see it through… and hopefully come out alive on the other side.

“Suvla Bay, again." Communications reactivated the sub pane revealing the face of Captain Hill once more.

“Commodore's Choice, withdraw your corvettes before we are forced to cripple, or destroy, them. Any attempt to land reinforcements is an open challenge to Alliance authority here."

Johan finally let some emotion onto his impassive face, raising one arm to point at the plot pane. “And an Alliance flotilla with ship-to-surface weaponry represents a material threat to the security of the Commonwealth of Kashkin." He retorted with heat though without resorting to shouting.

The Captain's face twisted with an expression of exasperation. “The 'Commonwealth' is a legal fiction. Yucatec Jericho has never recognized them, and neither has the Alliance." He countered with a crisp, hard voice.

Johan squared his shoulders and matched the other captain's irritated glare with hard, steely determination. “Nonetheless, our volunteers are here to ensure their protection. I'm also aware that, even if the civilian government is keeping their hands clean, your command charter allows you to take action on your own authority." Once again he pointed toward the display. “Presumably you already intend to." The opposing captain's eyes shifted as the tactical display that they had developed earlier was mirrored through the channel, showing the probable targets of orbital bombardment and listing the affects that would have on the population, military assets, and the planet as a whole. “And not just by shooting us down." Not to mention, though also included in the plot shown to the CODA captain, was the effects of a disabled three-million-ton freighter spiraling into the planet. A freighter utilizing two matter/anti-matter drive reactors and almost full fuel stores.

The man shook his head slowly. “I have no intention of harming you without provocation." He said, his voice still hard but with just a slight inflection toward reason; if the Choice stood down they might, too. “Just don't give me one." He nodded toward what must have been the plot pane supplied by his own tactical officers. “And landing troops in Yucatec territory sure as hell counts. I can't let that stand."

Johan beamed, but it was not a gentle, kind expression. It was a maniacal leer that split his face almost as effectively as a canine grin. The fish took the bait and he set the hook solidly. “Then you're just going to have to stop us, aren't you?"

Hill cut audio on his channel to confer with someone on his ship for a few moments before activating his sound again. “I don't have a problem shooting you if you force my hand." He warned, but Johan could see in his facial expression and posture that he was already conceding the point. “But for the moment, I suggest a compromise."

Johan nodded, his smile becoming more welcoming rather than challenging. “Explain, I'm listening."

“Recall your ships and remain in orbit. As long as you make no attempt to land, I won't open fire. On you, on the rebels, or the rebellion sympathizing freighters. We'll remain passive monitors." He was done. With the Choice, its escort group, and who knew how many sympathetic ship captains in the area he could not be seen as excessive nor weak. Remaining in orbit would satisfy the latter, with the withdrawal of the corvettes challenging their authority. Simply cratering the newly independent moreau colony from orbit would satisfy the first.

“Why should I trust you?" Johan challenged, though his posture relaxed and his expression softened to one of willing compromise.

The CODA Captain sighed but maintained his composure with an aura of beset annoyance. “Destroying your ships would cause a major incident. We both know that. Surely you also know that open hostilities will force Congress to take a more active role in this sector - and against your confederates, everywhere. I don't think martyrdom is really worth that gamble to you. Is it?"

Johan shook his head, “No, Captain, it is not. I will withdraw my escort ships and cease our preparations for landing supplies. For now we will remain neutral and merely observe until this conflict has played itself out. We would request, humbly, that you bring your ships into a higher orbit to remove the threat of bombardment you currently pose to the Commonwealth. We will also withdraw to a stationary orbit at twenty-two thousand kilometers. Will that satisfy our side of this agreement?"

“It will, sir. Captain." Hill agreed with a sage nod. Johan nodded in reply and let the other side close the channel. “And there you go." He chuckled, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Stand down from alert status and relieve the fighter pilots." Captain Bander ordered with his own, much more canine, rumble of relief. “Recall and dock the corvettes." The bridge crew swept into action and, within minutes the three corvettes had turned to arrest their momentum toward the planet and conflict with ships they had no hope of doing any damage to. They were soon accelerating back toward the Choice which had also begun accelerating to adopt the agreed upon higher orbit.

The only response they got from the Krasni Kavkaz was hearty laughter and an invitation to shuttle over and share a meal in the captain's galley. They accepted and offered the same in return, relaying a video feed of their own officer's galley in the forward hull of the Choice. The Orion captain was suitably impressed and promised to take them up on the offer, after their visit, of course.

The ship was stood down from its alert status and the crew released from all but the most pressing duties to take what recreation they could on the immense freighter which was, to say, plentiful and varied. Even the refugees from the mining outpost and the Dog's raid were allowed to explore what was on offer, mingling with the crew freely, if awkwardly.

They conducted trials of a few humans, even a few of their fellow moreaus, concerning events that they had suffered during the final months of privation under Jeyev's leadership. These were overseen by officers of the Choice, with Johan stepping up to defend Rakshasa.

Like Johan, the huge tiger had a shadow of his own; the snow leopardess they had seen at the bar who seemed to serve a similar function for him as Salen served for Johan. Her presence calmed the tiger during more heated exchanges during his trial. It was damning but, in the end, the tiger was merely banished from their collective. That suited him just fine and he spent his time relaxing in more private environs, sometimes with Johan and Salen or other members of the crew, moreau and human alike.

CMI sent a transport craft to the Choice, rather than requiring them to find some point to transfer the humans rescued from the Polaris Outpost, and investigated the events that led up to the resultant destruction of the station. Almost all were released from the company's service if they so chose and all did, unanimously. They were granted handsome severance packages to ameliorate the suffering that they, too, had endured. No moreaus were indicted in the loss of the station and had been given their deeds, making them and their kits free citizens within the Alliance, and thus the Commonwealth that did not observe deeds of ownership.

A handful, which the ghost had labeled 'remove from cast', such as the guards from the command deck airlock, were detained so that they could be properly taken to account for their actions subsequent to the first mutiny. Since no records survived of that actual event the charges there would be harder to push, but they had done more than enough since to warrant arrest.

It was almost two weeks before they heard back from the border collie, Levin, who had become a de-facto liaison between the Commonwealth and the Choice.

Just as Johan had expected, the council chose not to accept the promise of supplies, despite how much they were probably needed. The risk of 'strings attached' was simply too great. They did, however, agree to extend trade talks for the present and, potentially, into the future. There was some trade, however, though strictly along purely normal lines; supplies for payment. The Choice's business group haggled, though only as a perfunctory ritual, forcing the confused Minister and his business associates to pay far less for more goods than seemed prudent or sane. But those trades came with no strings, which was Minister Levin's intent.

Their war was over, the Business Council had capitulated after whatever maneuvers the moreaus of the planet had conducted to bring about an end to hostilities, probably with fangs to the figurative throat of the entirety of Arkadian Jericho.

Many of the refugees, whose skills would be needed, were allowed to emigrate to the newly independent, and secure, Commonwealth while a smaller number remained on the Choice. Rakshasa stayed aboard; the idea of the Eternal Conflict seemed to pique his interest more than a little. And the prospect of 'retiring' to someplace where moreaus were seen and treated as true equals appealed to him and his newly recognized mates; the snow leopard and two handsome young male moreaus.

After negotiating relatively standard trade agreements, gifts politely but adamantly refused, the Choice, newly registed as Lara's Invictus, turned about and slipped out of the system for the jump to its next port of call, delivering arms and other military equipment for yet another colony of besieged moreaus trying to hold out against oppressors who had stubbornness more than superior arms to keep the upstart animals 'in their place'.

As promised, Johan and Salen had one another's erections in their mouth and muzzle when the Choice transitioned out of the Jericho star system.

FIN