Defiance on Vargo: Stories of the Orphan Corps, #5

By Earl T. Roske

How many must die to keep an ancient secret buried?

 

Padilla thought that rescuing civilians from a derelict ship was all he and the crew of the Zlotterie would have to do. After all, providing aid and comfort were two of the most important things the Hospitallers did.

 

No good deed goes unpunished.

 

An accident in space puts Padilla at odds with an aggressive planetary government. To live, he'll have to defy them. To survive he'll have to outlast everything they throw at him.

 

The bad news just gets worse.

 

Now, not only does Padilla have to keep the civilians safe, he has to keep as many of his hospitallers alive as possible. Oh, and if he can keep himself from dying in the process, that would be nice, too.

 

Defiance on Vargo is the fifth Stories of the Orphan Corps. Like the first four stories, Defiance on Vargo is a stand-alone story. So, if you like a good old dust-up, secrets someone will kill to keep, and heroes worth cheering for, then you're ready for Defiance on Vargo.

 

You're ready for the adventure. Read it now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl Roske
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224979035

Earl T. Roske

Earl T. Roske is a San Francisco Bay area writer. He lives with his wife, daughter, a silly poodle, and two neurotic cats.

Book preview

Thank You:

Nicole, Andrew, Tim, & Wendy

––––––––

For my wife and daughter.

01

Lieutenant Colonel Tim Padilla didn’t just dislike bad news, he had a manic aversion to it. And when his ship, the Hospitaller supply ship, Zlotterie, dropped out of jump, no one had to tell him. He knew it was bad news.

Of all the kinds of bad news, this was the worst kind of bad news. Made worse by the simple fact he wasn’t prepared for it. It was nothing like Roll Call each morning where he had to read off the names of Hospitallers across the radial arm that had died the days before. He knew that was coming. He could steel himself for the moment prior to sharing the list with his crew.

Until he reached the bridge, he would have no idea what bad news was coming his way. Padilla really hated not knowing.

Commander on deck!

The bridge crew jumped up, snapping to attention as Padilla stepped through the hatch.

Return to stations, everyone. He made his way to his seat, which was as ordinary looking as all the other seats on the bridge.

It was like a signal when he sat. The watch commander was at his side, a tablet ready to be presented.

There’s nothing wrong with the Zlotterie, is there, Lieutenant McGee?

Lieutenant Della McGee handed Padilla the tablet. No, Lieutenant Colonel. Distress signal.

Padilla perked up at the words, distress signal. He scanned the tablet, seeing the signal type and duration. It had only been active for a few hours. The location was odd.

Ahriman? Padilla gave the tablet back to Lt McGee. He flipped up his command screen that was normally stowed in the chair arm until wanted. Once activated, he tapped it to call up navigation. That’s a dead system, right? No habitable worlds?

That’s what all the data shows, Lieutenant Colonel. Four gas planets around a red dwarf. No one even claims it.

Why would they. Padilla was pushing the image of the 2nd radial arm of the galaxy around on his screen, slowly zooming in on the Ahriman system. More importantly, why would someone be here?

Accident, I would presume.

A good presumption, McGee. After a couple seconds of fruitless examination, Padilla put the screen back into the chair arm. Have we made contact yet?

Not yet, Lieutenant Colonel. We’re working on it.

Right, well, get us there and let Major Bennett know. She’ll want to have a security platoon ready.

I’ll notify the major immediately.

Lt McGee returned to her station. Padilla took a few moments to scan the bridge deck. Like any intelligently built ship, the bridge wasn’t on top of the ship, or even at the front. It was at the heart. It made sense, and there was no arguing with the logic of it.

He couldn’t help it, though, when he was on the bridge, to wish for the romanticized version of warships. When he’d been in the orphanage on Xamaba, their house father would let them watch the action vids on Saturday mornings. There, they watched as captains directed their ships through elaborate battles, watching the scene play out through floor to ceiling windows.

Those ships had been rife with turrets and spindles and doodads that seemed to serve no other purpose than to look exciting.

Padilla’s much younger self would have been disappointed to see the Zlotterie fly across the vid screen. She was a long tube, flat on the top and bottom, wide through the middle. Autonomous trunks were linked to both sides in long rows. Ten trunks to a side. Currently filled with equipment to resupply the Anglo-Bavarian Langue which was mired in an ugly conflict in the Loourr system.

Every morning, Padilla reminded himself and his crew that every role in the Orphan Corps was not only necessary, but it was also important. They all might be cogs, but cogs had a purpose. Without the individual cogs, the machine as a whole would run less efficiently.

It was rare that they ever did more than run cargo from place to place. Though, they had all started as troops in the ground forces. They’d all fought in more than a few conflicts across this arm of the galaxy.

They’d also spent a lot of their time, when they were still children in the orphanage, learning the art of war. He’d been told that it was about instilling discipline and building group dynamic. Making bonds that would last a lifetime was important for children who had no family except the other orphans they grew up with, and the organization that looked after them all.

What they hadn’t done, though, was to prepare him to drive cargo from system to system, like an ordinary trader.

All of which was why the bad news that had brought them out of jump now began to look like good news. Or, at the very least, interesting news.

Good news had slowly become strange news over the two hour period it took to approach the ship whose distress beacon continued to send out its message.

That is an old ship, Padilla said.

There were several grunts of acknowledgment from the bridge crew. Padilla was well versed at interpreting the noises of a crew. Here, they were agreeing and were as surprised as he was about the ship.

The exterior showed signs of modifications done over many years. Some looked like they’d been done to save money by rigging parts from other ships of different styles. It wasn’t as elegant as the ones from Padilla’s childhood vid shows. However, it was nearly as elaborate.

Doesn’t come up in any of the registries I can access, Lt Long said.

No surprise there. Padilla looked around for an answer to a question he now had to ask. Still no comm?

Lt Irving Long, watch commander, 2nd watch, answered, Nothing, Lieutenant Colonel. And we’ve tried all standard frequencies.

That was puzzling that no comm frequencies worked, and yet there was a distress signal.  The people could have died. There was always that possibility. But the signal wasn’t that old. Someone had to have survived.

And, Padilla thought as he studied the ship, who in the United Planets systems would ever field such a floating wreck. The answer: No one.

Long, did you try all frequencies?

We did, Lieutenant Colonel Padilla. All U.P. frequencies and then those for the Allied Planets and the Free Worlds.

But not the Dark Worlds. It wasn’t a reprimand. Padilla only thought of it because of the state of the ship.

Dark Worlds? The idea seemed to puzzle Lt Long. It sounded like he doubted his own hearing.

The bridge was suddenly filled with another voice. Approaching vessel, we are unarmed civilians. Families. We need assistance, please. Do you hear us?

Behind the voice, someone else had asked, Are they going to kill us?

Padilla spun his seat forty-five degrees. Corporal Griffith.

Cpl Karla Griffith stood to attention. Yes, Lieutenant Colonel?

You do that? Find the right frequency?

Griffith’s eyes darted to her station and then back. Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. Once you said Dark Worlds, I remembered their emergency comm frequency. Well, I wasn’t completely sure until I tried it.

Good work, Griffith. Back to your station.

Griffith sat as quickly as she’d stood, twisting her seat back to face her station.

Well, Lieutenant Long, let’s see who we have.

Coming to you, Lieutenant Colonel Padilla, Griffith said. Now.

Unidentified ship. This is Lieutenant Colonel Padilla of the Hospitaller ship Zlotterie. Are you in need of assistance?

Through the speakers overhead, whispery cheers and ghostly shouts of ‘Hospitallers’ played for the bridge crew’s bemusement. It took a few seconds for a single voice to separate itself from the background noise. Yes, yes, we need help. Oh, thank the stars.

We’ll be glad to assist. You’re the captain I presume?

Except for the distant sounding jubilation, there was a long stretch of silence. Cautiously, the voice responded. There is no captain.

Stand by. Padilla turned to the Hospitallers on the starboard side of the bridge. You getting any weapons readings? Anything warming up over there? Anything pinging us?

One moment, Lieutenant Colonel, said Cpl Dwight Higgins. He was panning between two screens, swiveling his chair with each move. Nothing showing on our screens.

Okay, so not a trap? Lieutenant Long?

Lt Long looked at the data on his screen, which was an abbreviated version of the information on all the other screens, represented as graphs and charts instead of the lines of data the other Hospitallers on the bridge were seeing.

I’d have to say not a trap, Lieutenant Colonel, said Lt Long. Also, their engines are cold. If they are running any systems, it’s on battery.

Can we get a look at their engines?

Pfc Chandler, Long said. Give a visual on the ship’s engine ports. Magnify as needed.

Yes, Lieutenant.

While he waited for Chandler to acquire the image, Padilla pulled his own screen back up so he could see what Chandler found when he cast it to his and Lt Long’s displays.

Coming online, Pfc Chandler said. Her whole body leaned toward her own screen. There they are, Lieutenant Colonel Padilla.

Three cones appeared on the screen for Padilla. These were the thrust engines. They looked like any others that might be used to push a ship through a system.

Zoom in, Chandler. I would like to see the throat of one of the engines.

Right away. Chandler worked at her station for a ten-count and then said, There it is.

Slag, Lt Long said from behind Padilla.

Padilla had to agree. The throat of the cone, where it connected to the rest of the engine, was melted. Someone had sabotaged the engine. Likely, they’d done it to all three engines.

They aren’t going anywhere, he said. Not with those.

And even if the jump engines were working, said Lt Long, and I doubt they are, they wouldn’t be able to get up to speed to use them.

Right. Hang on. Padilla returned to the comm, opening it to the other ship once more. Was there an accident on board your ship? Was the captain injured or killed?

The response took time, but Padilla had shot a question across their bow. They might not have been close to the comm when he did.

Any other ships in the system? Padilla asked Lt Long.

Lt Long turned to SSgt Gregory McKinney who was on the scanners. McKinney?

Nothing has registered since we entered the system, Lieutenant. He paused and then continued in a more thoughtful voice. Though, there is evidence of some - two or three - small ships having been in this vicinity.

All right, thank you, McKinney, Padilla said. Let’s keep that info on a front burner. I’d like to know the answer to that mystery after we solve this one.

Hello?

Padilla tapped the comm. This is Lieutenant Colonel Padilla. I was asking about your captain.

Yes, we heard. He isn’t here. He left.

Left? Padilla looked at Lt Young, SSgt McKinney, and the other Hospitallers. Each of them had turned around when they heard the word, too. Did he get in a smaller ship and leave?

Yes, that is what he did. Please, the systems are almost depleted. We don’t have much oxygen or heat left.

And so it’s just the crew left? Maybe the captain had gone for help. Though, why a captain would go, basically abandoning his ship and crew, was a different matter.

No crew. In the pause, Padilla’s bridge buzzed with confusion. It increased when the voice said, Just us passengers are left.

At ease, people, Padilla said after he muted the comm. When he unmuted it, he asked the person on the other ship. Why would they abandon you and a damaged ship?

The voice answered in a quieter voice, There was a revolt.

A revolt? You mean a mutiny? Is that how the engines were damaged? Did the crew steal the ship’s porter boats to escape in?

The answer was faster in coming.

No, sir. A revolt. Us, the passengers, we revolted.

02

Padilla chewed on that information for a moment. He then muted the comm and said to Lt Long, Can you update Major Bennett on the situation?

Do you want me to do it now, Lieutenant Colonel?

Yes, please, Lieutenant.

Lt Long’s footsteps receded down the passageway. Following the sound distracted Padilla for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and focused again on the problem.

On the comm, Padilla said, Sir, I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to ask for your name.

Ah, yes. I am Erkki Kiskonen. Thank you for answering the distress call.

Of course. And you’re the leader? Padilla had to bite the next word to keep the sentence from continuing on where he would have said, Leader of the revolt? There wasn’t any need to antagonize people.

I am the leader by vote, sir, Mr. Kiskonen said.

And how many civilians are on the ship? I’m assuming there are only civilians present?

That is correct, sir. Just civilians. There are two hundred and three of us.

Someone on the bridge whistled in surprise. Whoever it was that whistled, quickly cut it off. Padilla didn’t see who it was, but he was aware that it could have just as easily been him. Over two hundred civilians abandoned on a ship in a dead system.

Mr. Kiskonen, Padilla said and took a pause to gather his words. I don’t mean to appear rude, but where are you from and where were you going?

Mr. Kiskonen’s laugh was awash with bitterness. "The second part, that is easy to answer. We did not know where we were going. The first part I am reluctant to provide, but I will do so in the spirit of cooperation. We are all from Amarok, in the Anguta system.

Padilla smacked the comm to mute it. He shook his hand to shake off the sting.

Lieutenant Colonel? Isn’t the Anguta system part of the Dark Worlds?

Yes, it is, Pfc Chandler, yes it is. He took another pause to clear his thoughts and tapped the comm, bringing it off mute. And you don’t know where you were going? Do you know why you were going?

Yes, I can answer that, Mr. Kiskonen said. We were going to help terraform a new world.

It was Padilla’s understanding that the Free Worlds and Dark Worlds didn’t terraform. If they located and took possession of an already viable world, that was one thing. But to start from scratch, build the atmosphere, condense vapor water into liquid? That was the sort of thing only the U.P. and A.P. planets could afford.

Padilla leaned toward the chair arm, where the mike was embedded and asked again, wanting to believe they hadn’t understood or that he’d misunderstood. Did you say you were going to a terraform world? A terraform world?

That’s correct, Mr. Kiskonen said.

Padilla glared at the comm as if it might be playing a trick on him. Approaching steps in the passage distracted him. He turned to see Lt Long return with Maj Bennett leading the way.

Lieutenant Colonel Padilla, Maj Bennett said as she stopped, turned, and saluted. I hear we have a situation.

Padilla returned the salute. Stand easy, Bennett. I’m not sure how much of a situation this is.

Sounds like we have people in distress, Lieutenant Colonel Padilla.

Padilla watched Bennett turn as if she might see the damaged ship. She couldn’t see it, except on the screen at Cpl Griffith’s station.

We do. But those people also admit to revolting against the ship’s crew, Padilla said. He checked the comm to be sure it was off, not remembering if he’d done it earlier. He had. The captain and crew scuttled the engines and left with the ship’s boats.

Leaving the civilians behind. Were they prisoners?

Padilla took a few moments and repeated everything he had learned.

Right, Bennett said. So we need to get them from there to here. Got it.

Hold, Bennett, said Padilla. They revolted. That gives me some concern.

Nonsense, Lieutenant Colonel. Your crew looks on you favorably.

Bennett’s implication that the only reason his crew wouldn't revolt with the civilians was based on their affections for him drew a chuckle from Padilla.

"Besides, Lieutenant Colonel Padilla, how many