Past the Redline

Throttle Thirty-Three

“Did you ever participate in a point-based race?” Abatrath asked.

Diana nodded, though it was slow. “I think I have, depending on what you mean. Some races will give you points based on your placement in various races, and the cumulative point total at the end determines the winner. I’m assuming that’s not what you mean?”

The big polerin made a gesture with both hands, almost like throwing something away. “No, that’s not how the Tyrant Cracker works. The points here are based on a few things. There will be a notice sent out on air for anyone who wants to participate to listen to. The bulletin will explain which target will give the most points.”

“Target?” Diana asked.

Abatrath nodded. “The last Tyrant Cracker took place on some backwater called Theska. Pretty normal place for a Tyrant Cracker. The Theskans, who are native to the world, are a sort of hive-mind race. So, typical super-hierarchical society. Lots of reverence for their queen. Limited freedom of thought for the majority of the beings in the world. Now, if that was it, then the Federation wouldn’t care, but about a quarter of the population on Theska aren’t native. They’re not quite slaves either, but not far from it.”

“Oh,” Diana said. “That’s sounding worse and worse.”

“It wasn’t ideal. The Federation couldn’t do anything about it, and the Theskan queen dismissed any diplomatic moves the Federation made.” Abatrath grinned, predatory teeth on full display. “So the Tyrant Cracker happened. Points were scored based on the number of egg hives destroyed, on the number of factories laid out, and on how quickly the racers hit the ground then returned to orbit. The winner wasn’t the first to return, not by a long shot. Oh, and taking out Theskan fighters scored racers a few additional points too.”

“Alright,” Diana said. “I get it. It’s basically a hit-and-run attack.”

“More or less. Civilian casualties give negative points, and a hefty number of those too. You won’t win by carpet bombing a city or by firing into crowded areas. You can end the race with negative points. Those racers tend to be the ones the Federation will actually arrest in the end.”

Diana nodded along. It sounded very much unlike any race she’d ever participated in. “Alright, I’m getting excited here. What are the vehicle limitations?”

“Nothing with a personal jump ring,” Abatrath said. “Usually there will be a limitation on tech level if the world’s technology is far behind the Federation’s, but that won’t be the case this time. No weight or armament limitations. I heard that a group of borel are coming in with a decommissioned Federation light cruiser.”

“What are you taking in?” Diana asked.

“A corvette and a squadron of heavy fighters,” Abatrath said.

Diana’s eyebrows rose. “You’re piloting your own little fleet? Or are you going in as a team?”

“There are no rules against going in with multiple vessels. No rules on the number of members on a team, either. But the prize pool is unaffected. There have even been events where multiple bands of mercenaries join forces to win the race. Not that doing so has always succeeded. Zoom Boom Intergalactic lost two races ago in a humiliating fashion after hiring over a hundred other mercenary ships to participate alongside them.”

“So, if I was going in solo, what would you suggest? A big ship covered in guns?”

“Solo is risky, but I imagine you don’t mind that. If I had no choice but to go in alone… I suppose I would want something that can do a bit of everything. Fast, hard-hitting. Maybe a heavy corvette or a light destroyer.”

“Those don’t sound like the kinds of ships you’d normally use in a race,” Diana said.

“This isn’t a normal race,” Abatrath said. “It’s more of a battle royale.”

“Wait, that implies that the racers will be fighting each other,” Diana said.

The polerin showed his teeth off again. “What makes you think they won’t? We’ll certainly all be fighting the same adversary, but once we’re past the Bolgian space force, there won’t be anyone to compete with but each other. You’ll lose a few points taking out another racer, but some beings just see that as a fair trade.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t get too angry about it. It made sense. If there weren’t any direct rules against it, and there was a clear punishment on the line for that kind of betrayal, then it made sense that some racers would take advantage. It even made sense. The race would be a zero-sum game. There could only be so many targets due to be destroyed, and therefore only so many points could be made.

“Alright, fine. You mentioned Bolgian?”

“Bolgia’s the system where the race will be taking place. Bolgia Five, technically. Large enough world, with middling gravity and a decently diverse ecosystem. Or there was, once. It’s turning brown now.”

“Turning brown?” Diana asked.

Abatrath made another gesture. “An expression from my home systems. It means that a world is being over-industrialised. The skies and water tend to turn brown.”

“Oh,” Diana said. “So that’s still a thing, huh?”

“It always will be, at least until greed no longer exists in this universe.”

“So, what can we expect from these Bolgians and their space force?” Diana asked.

Abatrath reached into the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a small boxy device with a screen on one side. She would have likened it to an ancient smart-phone, but even those weren’t so thick.

The polerin fiddled with it for a moment before an image appeared hovering above the device. “Oh, holograms,” Diana said. “That’s a ship?”

The ship floating there was all engine, with a small tear-drop cockpit in its middle and a single barrel sticking out beneath that.

“The Mark Seventy-One Heavy Space Superiority Fighter,” Abatrath said. “We call them probers, after a species of insects that have long probes that can take your flesh off even through thick fur.”

“So, that’s their standard fighter?” Diana asked. “Fixed gun only?”

“It also has two small laser arrays. They’re barely worthy of note, but if enough of them splash across your hull, it can get toasty, and they might hit something sensitive.” Abatrath tapped a button and the image changed.

The next ship was, if anything, uglier. A boxy vessel with two large nacelles on the sides and a blunt face. It had a large turreted gun on its bottom and what looked almost like a ball-turret above it.

“This is their standard heavy transport. They pack a punch,” Abatrath said. “Surprisingly fast too. They can carry a few probers to and from orbit.”

“Okay,” Diana said.

“And this is their workhorse warship,” he said with another tap.

The vessel was much larger, A long rectangular hull, with a raised bridge near the rear and two large plates running along the last quarter at the back. The entire top deck was covered in heavy gun turrets, and she noticed a few smaller gun emplacements along the sides and bottom.

“The Sledge Heavy Destroyer,” Abatrath said. “We’ll be seeing a lot of these. Bolgian doctrine is about dispersion of force across many units. They’d rather have ten of these than one proper cruiser.”

“So, nothing bigger than that?” Diana asked. It was large, but she guessed it to be a bit smaller than Ahvie’s cargo hauler.

Abatrath made a gesture with his hands. “Carriers. Plenty of those. And a few cruisers to keep them safe. But the main strategy they employ and train around involves waves of missiles followed by hundreds of their little Probers sent in to mop things up. They might actually have a few good pilots too.”

“We’re going to be swimming in them, aren’t we?” Diana asked.

“Outnumbered fifty to one, I’d guess,” Abatrath said. “In ship numbers, at least. We have better odds when it comes to guns. The Bolgian’s are cheap, in a way. But their space force is enough to bully other systems in the area.”

“Alright,” Diana said. “Well in that case, I guess I’ll need to figure out a way to make a dent in those numbers before we hit planetside.”

“I hope you don’t burn up on entry,” he said. “I might just place a bet on you.”

“On me winning?” Diana asked.

“No, that’s for me. On you surviving.”

Diana laughed, and the polerin purred in a strange laugh of his own.

That’s when one of Abatrath’s men walked into the room, escorting ChaOS. The AI moved its droid body across the room to stand next to Diana. “Greetings, Mistress. Have you had a productive time so far?”

“So far, yeah,” she said. “But I imagine you heard every word we’ve spoken. Come on, ask Abatrath here your million and one questions, we want to make sure we get everything out of that victory I pulled.”

“Before that, mistress, and speaking of pulling, do you want me to pull your arm back into its socket?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that!”