Battlespace (The Stars Aflame Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

  Scott opened his mouth to reply, then paused, his eyes moving to the sensor plot, where the remnants of the fleet drifted in space, hanging between Leonidas and the alien ship. His eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face, his hands reaching for the controls as he increased the magnification on the shattered ships.

  “That’s it!” he yelled.

  “What?” Rochford asked.

  “That’s the answer!” Turning to Novak, he said, “Lieutenant, you are a god-damned genius!”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied, “but I don’t understand…”

  “Ivanov, you suggested we employ kinetic attacks. There’s a way we can do it. Right now.”

  “How, sir?” the erstwhile aide asked. “I thought…”

  Turning to Santoro, he asked, “How big a bang do we get when we explode a matter/antimatter reactor?”

  Frowning, she replied, “I’d have to pull the safeties, but we’d certainly get a multi-gigaton explosion.” She looked back at him, and asked, “Are you planning to ram the planet? That’d send a lot of debris flying.”

  “What do we get from fourteen of them, detonated at once?” He gestured at the sensor plot, and said, “We build our ships damned well, and we build the reactors better. Some of them were reduced to so much scrap metal during the battle, but some of them are intact. They’re designed for safe salvage…”

  “And they’re also designed to be fail-safe,” Rochford warned. “In the event of destruction, they disperse the antimatter. In any other event, they lock down.”

  “Perhaps,” Santoro said, frowning. “We might be able to reactivate them, then disable the safety systems. They’ve probably sustained enough damage to help us make that work.” She shook her head, and said, “As for the size of the explosion, I can’t even begin to guess.”

  Ivanov looked up from his tablet, his fingers working the controls, and he said, “Try a low-end of eight hundred gigatons. It could easily be in excess of a petaton. We’re talking the sort of explosion usually associated with nova-scale events. I don’t think there would be very much left of anything once they went up. I can’t see anything living through that, Captain. Not even with defenses such as those they possess. If the blast wave didn’t get them, the shrapnel would. Hell, it’d probably destabilize the wormholes.”

  “How do we do it?” Bouchard asked.

  “The reactor control systems would have to be reprogrammed. It’d take command access, but it should be possible,” Santoro said. “We could drop a relay satellite close by, use that to trigger a detonation at a longer range, but we’d have to be pretty close-in to complete the reprogramming. It’s a question of the control systems on the reactors. Without access to long-range communicators, the onboard systems of their ships, you’d have to get within a thousand miles or so to make it work.”

  “We couldn’t take the ship that close,” Wilson said.

  “A shuttle, then,” Novak said. “With a small crew. Two. I’d do the reprogramming, and someone else to fly it. Cunningham, maybe. All we’ve got to do is get close.”

  “And then the alien ship swings past and shoots you out of space,” Rochford replied.

  “Not if Leonidas was keeping them busy first,” Scott said.

  “Captain, it’s quite clear now that our survival in the earlier encounters was more to give us a false sense of security than anything else,” Santoro warned. “If we’re going to do this, then we’re going to have to be pretty damned careful.” She paused, then added, “Not that I actually expect to live through this attack, but we’ll have to draw them into the fleet before triggering the explosion, and that’s going to take us as well.”

  “I’m confident that Ensign Chen is more than up to the task,” Scott said.

  “What about the people on those ships?” Wilson asked.

  Shaking his head, Ivanov replied, “We’ve detected no distress signals…”

  “That doesn’t mean a damned thing. They’d be hiding, waiting for the enemy to leave the system, before triggering their beacons. Or hoping that we go in and pick them up. There could be dozens, hundreds of people on those ships, and you’re just going to write them off without even trying to rescue them?”

  “Jimmy,” Scott said, softly, “if they were here, now, don’t you think they’d be the first to support this plan? We’re talking about the survival of humanity, of life on Earth itself. Nine billion lives at stake. Everyone who rode those ships was a volunteer, and they all knew what they were getting into when they set off on this mission. I knew a lot of them. They’d go for this. One last punch at the enemy.”

  “Couldn’t the shuttle make an attempt at a rescue during its pass?”

  “I don’t see how,” Santoro said. “And it would be a waste of time, anyway.” Turning to Novak, she added, “You realize this is almost certainly a one-way mission. There’s no chance that you’d be able to get back to the ship before detonation, not if we’re to have any chance of catching the alien ship at full force. I’m doubtful that Leonidas can pull it off, but we’ve got a fighting shot at it. You won’t.”

  “I’m not that eager to die, Lieutenant,” Novak replied. “That second shadow wormhole gateway isn’t far. We’ll complete our hack, drop the relay probe, then run for it full-throttle. We might be on vapors at the other end of the ride, but I think we can make it.”

  “And end up in an uncharted system, with a wormhole terminus that will probably not lead anywhere,” Rochford warned.

  “At the very least, Commander, it will buy us some time to think of something else.” Turning to Scott, she said, “My ship was the first to be destroyed, sir. The first Navy ship, anyway. It seems appropriate that we’re at the forefront of the final battle.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Scott asked. She nodded, and he replied, “Then you’d better start thinking about heading down and getting into preflight. Jimmy, you’ll need to take a look at the shuttle communications system, and prepare a relay probe. It doesn’t need to be anything too complicated. Something off the shelf will probably do just fine.”

  “Sir…” he began, then continued, “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Clyde, you’re on tactical plotting. Work out an optimum attack pattern for our two strikes with the enemy, and try and bear in mind that we want to get out of the system in one piece if it’s even remotely possible. That means a path to the wormhole, best speed.” He paused, then added, “Though I hasten to add that we will do whatever we have to do to draw the enemy in, regardless of what might happen to the ship.”

  “I think I see how we can do it, sir,” Rochford said. Shaking his head, he added, “How the hell did we end up getting quite this desperate?”

  “We got complacent,” Bouchard replied. “We got lazy, and we got into the habit of thinking that we were the lords of creation. Now we’ve found out that we aren’t, and nothing is ever going to be the same again.” She looked around the table, and added, “Any of you seen the latest reports from back home? Total breakdown in a hundred cities now, and nobody’s even trying to stop it. What’s the point? They all think that they’re going to be dead in the morning. You can’t get passage off-world for love or money.”

  “At this rate, there won’t be much for us to go home to,” Santoro replied.

  “They’ve lost hope,” Scott said. “And given the circumstances, I can hardly blame them for that.” Gesturing at the sensor display, he added, “That ship will start moving in about an hour. In six hours it’ll be at Earth. I know that whatever is left of the fleet will fight to the last man, but they’ll fail. They don’t have a chance. And they’ll go in anyway, even knowing that.” Resting his hands on the table, he said, “I know this is a long shot, and I know that this plan is borderline insane, but it’s our last throw of the dice. We need this one to work, and I’m going to need all of you at your best to pull this off. I’ve got to count on you, or it’s all over.”

  Nodding, Rochford replied, “I’ll head down to Na
vigation, start some course plots.” Turning to Ivanov, he asked, “You want to give me a hand?”

  “I’m with you,” he replied.

  “Come on, Jimmy,” Santoro said. “We’ve got a date with a software update. I’ll see if I can sort something out on the simulators for you, Lieutenant.”

  “I’ll put my head together with Cunningham,” Novak replied. “We’ll make it work, Captain. One way or another.”

  “We’re all dead if you don’t,” Bouchard said.

  “Yeah, but think of the bright side,” Scott replied. “To hell with naming schools after us. We’ll have our own planets named after us if we pull this off.” He paused, then said, “Stations, people. I want our shuttle in the air in thirty minutes. Let’s make the magic happen. Dismissed.” The officers walked out of the room, a quiet murmur of conversation as they made their way into the corridor. Only Bouchard remained, pensively looking at the sensor display.

  “Do you really think that we can pull this off?” she asked.

  “We have to,” he replied. “So, we will.” He paused, then added, “This is the best ship and the best crew in the fleet.”

  “By default, now.”

  “It’s a good plan.”

  “It’s a desperate plan,” she replied. “Rochford was right.”

  “Hell, in normal circumstances it wouldn’t have passed the laugh test, but we’ve gone a hell of a long way off-script. It’ll work because it has to work. That’s all there is to it. You coming up to the bridge to watch the fun?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Chapter 20

  The bridge was different, somehow. After the battle, the whole crew had been locked into despair. Now, the attitude had changed. They were ready to fight once more, if necessary to the last man, if that was what it would take to win. And there was a belief that victory was still possible, that they were not doomed to defeat and extinction. Leaning over the helm, Rochford poked at the controls, checking the course with Chen for the last time, Ivanov sitting at the weapons console, now configured to activate the charges once the shuttle had completed its work.

  “I think we’re about ready,” Rochford said. Turning to his console, he added, “All decks are at Alert Condition One. All department heads have reported in, all nominal.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” he replied. “Wilson, connect me through to the ship.” There was a brief pause, and he said, “Lieutenant?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Wilson said. “You’re on, Captain.”

  Scott glanced at Rochford, then said, “All hands, this is the Captain. This is it. No matter what else happens to you in the future, this is going to be the defining moment of your lives. They’ll be talking about this battle for the next hundred years, and you’re all going to be boring people to death with this story for decades to come.” There was a faint chuckle from the bridge crew, and he continued, “I’m not going to waste your time with a long speech. I don’t need to. You all know what you need to do. What we need to do. Let’s get this done, and then we can go home. That is all.”

  “Shuttle is ready for launch, requesting clearance,” Rochford said, settling back at his station.

  Tapping a control, Scott said, “Shuttle One, you may launch at your discretion. Good luck, and happy landings.”

  “Roger that, Actual,” Cunningham replied. “Initiating launch sequence.”

  “Status of the alien ship?” Scott asked.

  “Holding position over the planet, about thirty thousand miles away. They could be on us in less than four minutes if they wanted, sir, based on past performance.”

  “Then let’s begin the battle plan,” he replied. “Helm, full ahead.”

  “This is crazy,” Wilson muttered. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “It’s a good plan, Jimmy. It’ll work,” Rochford said.

  Shaking his head, Wilson said, “It won’t. It can’t. Nothing can beat that thing. Nothing. We’re just going to get ourselves killed if we try.”

  Turning to the young officer, Scott said, “Report to Sickbay on the double.”

  “Sickbay?”

  “For a full medical inspection. Call your relief to the bridge.”

  Wilson looked around, nodded, and walked to the elevator, ambling towards the door. Scott turned, focusing his attention back on the viewscreen as Chen began to warm up the engines, making the final adjustments to their trajectory plot, before hearing the sound of a laser pistol charging. He turned to see Wilson standing at the threshold of the door, gun in hand, aimed directly at Chen’s back.

  “We’re getting out of here,” Wilson said. “If we’re going to die, we should die at home, not out here in this worthless system. The crew should be with their families at the end.”

  Taking a deep breath, Scott replied, “If we can complete our mission, then nobody is going to die, Jimmy. All those people could live. Isn’t that worth a try? Put that gun down and report to Sickbay. I won’t file any charges, any reports.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. Ensign, hard about. Set course for the wormhole back to Earth. Contact the shuttle and bring them back. Tell them that we’re aborting the mission.”

  “I’m not going to do that, Jimmy,” Scott said, slowly rising from his chair. “And even if I did, I somehow doubt that they would obey my orders. They want this mission to succeed. They need this mission to succeed. We all do.” Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Are you really going to shoot Ensign Chen in the back?” He moved in between the two of them, placing himself in the line of fire, and said, “You’ll have to kill me, Jimmy. In cold blood. If that’s your intention, then get it over with.”

  “Get out of the way, sir,” he said. “I’ll do it. Die one way, die another, what’s the difference?”

  “Except that it’s about how you die,” Scott replied. “We’re going down doing something worth dying for. If we turn and run, then we betray everyone that sent us out here. Everyone back on Earth who is counting on us to work a miracle.”

  “Shuttle is now two minutes from the fleet, sir,” Sullivan reported, her eyes darting back to her console. “Enemy ship is powering up, moving to an intercept course.”

  “Just what is it going to be, Jimmy?” Scott asked. “Do we fight, or do we die? Those are the only options we have left. It’s not what we would have chosen, it’s not what we wanted to do, but that’s where we’ve ended up, and if that’s all we have left, then I want to go down all guns blazing.” He stepped forward, and said, “Do it, Jimmy. Or put the gun down.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Wilson said, and Scott closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that he thought would be his last. He smelled a faint trace of ozone in the air, then felt himself being hurled to the side as the weapon discharged, an angry cry of pain and the smell of roasting meat assaulting his senses. He looked up to see Wilson lying on the floor, Rochford pinning him in place, and Ivanov lying on the deck beside him, clutching at his side, blood seeping onto the deck.

  “Medic, on the double!” Scott yelled, ripping the medical kit from the wall and diving to the side of the wounded officer. He pulled back the remnants of Ivanov’s uniform jacket, sighing at the mess inside, then fumbled through the components for the strongest painkiller he could find.

  “Didn’t expect him to fire,” Ivanov said, gasping through the pain. “Figured it was just a distraction for Rochford. Damned kid.”

  “Easy, Lieutenant,” Scott said, injecting the painkiller into his side. “Help’s on the way. You’ll feel better in a minute.” Ivanov’s eyelids began to flutter, and he yelled, “Don’t you dare die on me, Lieutenant. Too many people have died today already. Not one more.” The doors behind him opened, and Nguyen raced in, pulling a gurney behind him, a pair of paramedics in his wake.

  “We’ve got this, Captain,” the doctor said. “Christ, what a mess.”

  “Can you help him, Doc?” Scott asked.

  “We’ll do our best, sir. That’s all I can promise.” The
paramedics gently eased the wounded man onto the gurney, pushing him back down the corridor as Nguyen hastened to set up an IV. He tossed another hypodermic to Scott, and said, “Sedative. Strongest one I’ve got. Should keep someone under for at least twelve hours, and give them a hell of a headache when they wake up.”

  “Should I give it to him, sir?” Rochford asked.

  “No,” Scott replied, shaking his head. He turned to one of the paramedics, and said, “Take him down to the brig. Lock him up. And make sure he gets a nice feed of everything taking place up here. I want him to watch the mess he made.”

  Looking down at the prone figure on the floor, Rochford waved his hand in front of Wilson’s eyes, and said, “Non-responsive. I’m no expert, but I reckon the poor kid just cracked.”

  “He goes to the brig for the moment, Commander. Assuming we live through the next twenty minutes, we can deal with him later.”

  “Aye, sir,” Rochford said, slinging the unresponsive Wilson over his shoulder and stepping into the elevator. Chen looked at the bloody patch on the floor, his face pale.

  “That would have been me,” the helmsman muttered.

  Shaking his head, Scott replied, “I wouldn’t have permitted that to happen, Ensign. You can take my word on that. What’s our status?”

  “Engines are at full power, course plotted and ready to implement on your command.”

  “Sullivan, what’s the story outside?”

  “Enemy ship is heading for the shuttle, sir, on a direct intercept course that will bring it into firing range in six minutes. They’re taking their time, Captain. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to destroy our ship.”

  “They probably don’t think they represent a real threat,” Scott replied. “Can we intercept?”

  “We’ll have to push pretty hard, sir, but I think so,” she said.