Battlespace (The Stars Aflame Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

  “No other survivors?” Garcia asked.

  “Not any more, ma’am. A few more escape pods did manage to get away, but the alien ship shot them all down before they could find somewhere to land. I’d like to recommend Ensign Cunningham for a commendation, on that note, sir. Without his skill, we’d have died as well.”

  “Noted, Lieutenant, though that’s going to have to be contingent on our surviving the current engagement,” he said, with a smile. “Time to intercept?”

  “Eight minutes, twenty seconds,” Rochford replied. “Enemy ship is holding course and speed.”

  The ship lurched, the engines changing in tone, and Chen said, “That’s it for the engines, sir. I’ve got to cut power back to normal operation. I don’t dare push them any harder, or we might lose the whole system.” Shaking his head, he added, “We’ve pushed the old girl too hard.”

  Reaching for a control, Scott said, “Bridge to Engineering…”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Skipper, and I’m working as fast as I can,” Santoro replied. “Technically I need to run a full inspection of the entire power distribution network, but I know we don’t have that kind of time. If you aren’t planning on firing the masers for a while, that’ll help.”

  Nodding, Garcia said, “It isn’t as though they’re proving effective anyway, sir.”

  “That’ll help. Give me ten minutes,” the engineer said.

  “I’d be happy with that, but the enemy won’t. You’ve got seven. Bridge out.” Looking around the room, he said, “Options people. Is there anything in local space we can use?”

  Frowning, Chen said, “I can’t dodge them forever, sir, and they’ll have six minutes on the next firing pass to take us out. There are a few asteroids along our current course, but nothing we can use. We’re too far away to make a run for either of the wormholes, and they’d just follow us right through in any case. They must know where they are.”

  “What about the weapons?” Rochford asked. “If we boost the power as high as we can go, throw every system on overload…”

  “I damn near did that the first time, Clyde,” Garcia replied. “Besides, the network’s strained to all hell right now. I don’t think we dare try something like that again.” She paused, then said, “Maybe I could throw some rocks at them, precisely-calculated shots to knock some debris loose. Like we did with the Separatist battlecruiser at Van Maanan’s, that time.”

  “We don’t have time to calculate our shots,” Rochford protested.

  The door slid open, and a tall, gangly figure wearing a battered coat walked onto the bridge, saying, “Alter course, thirty-one port, nineteen up, and increase to full available acceleration.”

  “Professor?” Novak said.

  Turning to face the new arrival to the bridge, Scott said, “If you’ve got a proposal, Professor, I’m going to need a lot more to go on than a recommended course change.”

  “There’s another wormhole in the system.” Turning to Novak, he continued, “I broke the first code. It wasn’t that complicated. There’s a second wormhole network, and I’ve got some of the tracks. One of them is right here in this system, within eighty thousand miles of our location. The aliens used the same method for interstellar travel.”

  “Where does it go?” Wilson asked.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Belinsky replied. “Anywhere has to be better than here, though.”

  Scott smiled, nodded, and said, “I can’t argue with that. Ensign, execute course change.”

  Shaking her head, Bouchard asked, “How can we know it’s still there, after all these years? We’ve never been able to determine just how long an artificial wormhole can remain stable.”

  Turning to his console, Rochford replied, “It won’t be hard to check. I know what I’m looking for. We should have picked it up as soon as we entered the system, but I suppose…”

  “No,” Scott said, shaking his head.

  “Without precise course calculations…”

  “Wormholes are gravitationally fixed. They remain at the same point in space-time relative to the star. They’ve got to be, or the network breaks down pretty damned quickly. The builders of this network must have used the same design.” Turning to Rochford, he added, “The enemy ship must be watching us like a hawk right now. If we focus our sensors on something interesting, then they’ll be able to detect the wormhole for themselves and they’ll follow us right through. Professor, have you got precise co-ordinates, relative to the star?”

  Patting a pocket, Belinsky replied, “Right here, Captain.”

  “Give them to Ensign Chen. I’m going to want a course that takes us close, Ensign, but not so close that we accidentally guide them through.”

  “Aye, Captain,” he replied.

  “Fire up the sensors at the last moment, Clyde,” Scott ordered. At Belinsky’s expression, he added, “I want the alien ship to follow us, but I also want us to have at least a little time to prepare a proper welcome for them.”

  “Course computed, sir,” Chen replied. “We’re going to be passing through the wormhole, assuming it’s there…”

  “It is,” Belinsky Interrupted. “I’d stake my life on it.”

  “Good. You are,” Garcia said. “And ours as well.”

  “We’ll pass through just about as the alien ship intercepts us,” Chen added.

  Scott nodded, the bridge crew turning back to their posts, focused on their work. Belinsky moved over to Rochford, leaning over the sensor display, while Novak slowly walked forward, parallel to Scott, her eyes fixed on the viewscreen, the alien ship still dead center.

  “That’s how it looked when it attacked Vanguard,” she said, quietly. “We had no warning, no chance to even go to battle stations. We were still at Condition Two when it attacked.” Looking at Scott, she said, “I saw your bombardment.”

  “We’ll find a way to beat it, Lieutenant. That’s what we were sent out here to do.”

  “How, sir?”

  Cracking a smile, he added, “The impossible takes a little longer. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.” Leaning forward, he said, “I’ll be putting you in for a commendation as well, Lieutenant.”

  “What for, sir? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Six people are alive. That’s no small thing, given the circumstances.”

  She shook her head, quietly watching the screen, and Scott looked down at the trajectory plot. He glanced at Rochford, locking eyes with his old friend, knowing that he shared their concern. A hidden wormhole network, perhaps running parallel to their own. It had been theorized, and indeed, it might explain the supposedly natural wormhole discovered at Triton which had led to the development of the human network. The scientists had believed it a freak accident, one never repeated throughout space, but perhaps, just perhaps, it was a piece of the puzzle. One they should have solved long before they did. “Ninety seconds, sir,” Chen replied, breaking Scott from his brief reverie.

  Nodding, he said, “Very good, helm. Sensors, start your track.”

  “Working,” Sullivan said.

  “Getting data now,” Rochford added. “Professor, you don’t need to be looking over my shoulder quite so closely.”

  “Intercept in seventy seconds, sir,” Garcia warned. “Enemy power buildup reaching maximum levels. If we miss this wormhole…”

  “Got it!” Rochford yelled. “It’s pretty weak, sir, but I’m getting the usual gravimetric signatures. It’s a lot smaller than ours, but it’s there. Should I launch a probe?”

  “No point,” Scott replied. “We’ll be able to take a look for ourselves in a minute. Helm, trim our course as late as you dare. I want our friend out there to fly right past.”

  “On it, Captain,” Chen said, his eyes fixed on his controls, not even looking at the screen. The seconds ticked down, the alien ship drawing ever closer, sweeping into firing range. At the last second,, Leonidas swerved to the left, caught by the mouth of the wormhole, and just as the first of the alien l
aser beams raced through the sky, the ship danced inside, safely transiting into otherspace.

  “Nice work, Ensign. Thank you very much, Professor. If they don’t give you the Nobel Prize for this, I’ll start a new one just for you.” Turning to Rochford, he said, “Take us to Condition Two. I want a full damage report. How long before we reach our destination?”

  “Around five hours, Captain. I can’t be more accurate than that.”

  Nodding, Scott added, “That buys us some time, anyway.” Looking at Belinsky, he added, “I want a full briefing in three hours. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I want answers, and for all our sakes, I’m damned well going to get them.”

  Chapter 10

  Novak walked along the main corridor, wearing a fresh uniform for the first time in what seemed like years, but was actually only a matter of days. At the insistence of Captain Scott, a single star had been attached under her name back, a record of her participation in the battle against the enemy ship at Ross 248. She was a blooded veteran now, but all she could think of was the people who weren’t coming home, the rest of the Vanguard crew. Two hundred people, wiped off the map.

  Since the battle, she hadn’t had any time to think about it, not until now, and it was all finally beginning to sink in. Phil Ross, Sanchez, a dozen other people she had called friends, and she’d never see any of them again. She paused at a junction, looking at a viewport, showing a simulated starfield. There had been a time when she’d hoped for action, some excitement. Now she wanted to slap her past self around the face, curse her for her stupidity.

  The rest of the survivors had integrated immediately into Leonidas’ crew. Cunningham on the bridge, taking over as standby helmsman, the rest down in the engineering levels, supplementing the short-handed engineering teams. She turned back to the corridor, walking towards the briefing room, looking at the stark, utilitarian lines of the ship’s interior. This ship had been built for one purpose. Battle. Constructed decades ago, back when humanity had been divided, while the Commonwealth still had enemies on Earth that might cause trouble, and the colonies were restless. It had earned great distinction during the Consolidation Wars, then again in the last short conflict against the Separatists.

  Now it was the tip of the spear once more, and this time it was fighting against a threat that could barely be conceived and understood, a force powerful enough that there seemed no realistic defense against it. She turned another corner, then paused, the double doors of the briefing room up ahead. Captain Scott wanted answers. She didn’t have any. None that were worth the word.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked inside, half a dozen pairs of eyes turning to her as she entered the room, mercifully ahead of both the Captain and the Executive Officer. She took the seat with her nameplate placed before it, raising an eyebrow at her hasty listing as Assistant Weapons Officer. Evidently, she’d transferred back from Staff to Line, without even realizing it.

  “Sorry about that,” Garcia said, noting her surprise. “We don’t have a position for a Science Officer on board, but technically, I’m supposed to have a deputy. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Novak replied, settling in her seat. “It’s the sort of assignment I was trained for.”

  “Did you get a chance to have a rest?” she asked.

  Shaking her head, she said, “I sat in my quarters for a couple of hours. That’s about the best I could manage. Other than a couple of cups of coffee.”

  “You won’t manage with that,” Rochford said, stepping into the room with a huge tray in his hand. “I stopped off at the Mess and picked up a few bits and pieces.” He dropped his load onto the table, pulling off covers to reveal an assortment of finger foods, a good-sized buffet.

  “Is it standard practice on this ship to have all command briefings catered?” Ivanov asked.

  “Captain’s orders,” Scott said, walking into the room, just ahead of Belinsky. “I think I know you all well enough to guess that you haven’t had anything to eat since the battle, and I don’t want anyone collapsing at their posts during our next encounter with the enemy. I’m not going to demand you try and sleep, but you’re going to eat something, if only to keep your energy levels up.” Taking his place at the head of the table, he said, “Lieutenant Santoro, how’s my ship?”

  “We’re in pretty good shape, sir, given the circumstances,” she replied. “I’ve checked over the power grid, and the repairs were pretty mild. No battle damage, either. I’ve even managed to get your shuttle fixed up, Professor.” She paused, then asked, “Where did you get it from?”

  “What do you mean?” the old man asked.

  “That’s a military prototype, supposedly in the Fleet Testing Area at Proxima.”

  He shrugged, and replied, “I told my backers that I needed the best sensor and computer suite they could find. It wasn’t any of my business where they got it from.”

  “The Syndicate,” Novak added. “He was working for the Syndicate.”

  Looking coldly at the Professor, Wilson said, “In that case, shouldn’t he be under arrest?”

  “Agreed,” Ivanov said.

  Shaking his head, Scott replied, “We’re fighting for the life of every man, woman and child on Earth, people. Right now, starship theft is the least of my concerns.” Raising his hand, he added, “If it will make you all feel more comfortable, I’ll be happy to issue a full, formal pardon here and now. In fact, consider it done. Commander Rochford, will you arrange the paperwork?”

  “Not a problem, skipper.”

  “Then that’s settled. Commander Garcia, what about our weapons?”

  She paused, then said, “I’ve got a few ideas, sir, but you really aren’t going to like them.”

  “I’m not enjoying this situation overmuch at the moment, Commander. I doubt that you’re going to make matters much worse. What have you got in mind?”

  “I think we can treble the power we’re able to feed through the maser cannons, without having to do any serious work to the local distribution network. The catch is that it’s going to seriously reduce our firing range.”

  “How far?”

  “Try fifty thousand meters.”

  “Fifty thousand meters?” Santoro protested. “I could run that distance.”

  Looking back at the engineer, Garcia replied, “There’s not much else I can do, Val. We haven’t got the equipment or the personnel for a significant overhaul, and I don’t have the time to design an entirely new weapons system. We’re stuck with what we’ve got. Fleet looked at a potential modification for power enhancement a few years back, for civilian applications.”

  “What possible…” Wilson began.

  “Asteroid mining, actually,” she said. “It didn’t go anywhere, but we’ve still got the specs.”

  “Can you make the modifications in such a way that we could still fire the weapons normally if we wanted?” Scott asked.

  Garcia paused, nodded, then said, “I think so, sir. It’ll make a little tougher, but I don’t see any reason why not. I’ve already done the preliminary work, and I’m pretty sure we can have everything ready by the time we arrive at our destination. Wherever that might be.”

  “On that,” Rochford said, “We’re going to be flying into the dark. Our records don’t show anything in the area of our projected emergence. Which means something undetected. A rogue planet, or at most, a dim brown dwarf. At least we know we’re not taking the aliens into a populated system.”

  “They’re methodical,” Novak said, drawing everyone’s attention. “One thing I’ve noticed is that the aliens don’t like to leave any loose ends behind them. They took two weeks to complete the destruction of Chi Draconis…”

  “Assuming it was destroyed, and they didn’t find another way into our territory,” Ivanov noted. “If one shadow wormhole network exists, we’ve got to at least suspect the existence of another.”

  “Granted, Lieutenant, but I understand contact
was lost with the Chi Draconis system two weeks ago.” Turning to Scott, she added, “That system doesn’t have any major settlement, just a couple of dozen outposts, spread all over the place. It’d take time to wipe them all out. Any human fleet commander would have ignored them, pressed their attack regardless.”

  “Meaning that we can count on them to continue to follow us, at least for a while,” Scott replied. “We can’t depend on that forever, though. These aren’t automatons. If they decide that we’re not a threat, my instinct is that they’ll move on.”

  “How much time do you think Admiral Singh will need to get the fleet ready?” Bouchard asked.

  “Hard to say. If it was just a matter of putting the ships back into commission, perhaps five days, but she’s got to man them, as well. Even skeleton crews will take time.” He shook his head, reached for a sausage roll, and replied, “Maybe two weeks for full strength.”

  “We’ll never hold them that long,” Ivanov replied.

  “I tend to agree with you, Lieutenant,” Scott said, taking a bite, “but every hour, every minute we can buy our people increases our chance of victory.”

  “Does it?” Wilson asked. “Our weapons have little to no effect on the enemy ship. How can we be sure that the fleet will have any more luck than we have?”

  “They’ve got a lot more engineers back home working on that problem, and they’ve had the benefit of our sensor reports,” Garcia replied. “Not to mention infinitely greater processing power. They’ve got the resources to come up with new modifications, new designs. Trust me, they’ll have a shot. If we can give them to time to prepare it.”

  Looking up at Belinsky, the scientist hunched over a datapad, Scott asked, “Professor, could we have your report?”

  “Huh?”

  “Professor?” Novak said. “Your report.”

  Frowning, he replied, “It’ll be preliminary at best.”