by Dean Henegar
“This is an impressive vessel, but where do we go next?” Guzman asked while pulling up the star charts on the holo-display in the center of the bridge.
“I was hoping for better charts from the gnomish ships, but they are unfortunately sparse on information. We know we are currently close to a jump point that leads toward gnomish space. The one leading toward human space is on the other side of the system. Getting to that jump point is our first step. After that, we have the jump point location we need in the next system. Once past that, we’re in the dark,” Slater advised.
“Looking at the data myself,” Illissa began, “it appears that each gnomish clan keeps their own star charts, and the greedy little monsters don’t share. Sadly, the clan we had just been fighting is a small fry in their structure, not having the means to raid too far from their home system. Their home system also seems to be a less-than-ideal place where the smaller gnomish clans are located, fighting amongst themselves for the scraps the bigger clans leave them.” The rest of the humans had started to accept Illissa’s presence, even if some of them were still not entirely happy that an alien was among them. As far as Slater was concerned, she had proven herself.
“That’s as good a plan as we can expect, Commodore. Helm, plot a course for the indicated jump point,” Captain Guzman said, pointing at the jump point leading toward human space.
“There is one more thing, Captain Guzman,” Slater said. “We have a long way to go through hostile territory. The Franklin is powerful, and I’d put her up against any similarly sized vessel. Unfortunately, we most likely will not be fighting one on one against our various enemies as we proceed toward home. The closer we get, the more likely we’ll enter systems with large numbers of invaders that can swarm us. We’re decked out like a human warship and will be treated accordingly by most races.”
“So you’re trying to say that heading toward human space will likely get us killed. What do you propose we do? We can’t head in the other direction toward gnomish space. That would be suicide,” Commander Diaz said with disgust.
“True, Commander. We have to continue on, but we don’t have to appear like a human destroyer. What do you know of naval history, Commander, specifically the era of the first two world wars?” Slater asked.
“I never had time for ancient history. Our people have too many problems in the present to worry about the past,” Diaz replied.
“You never had time for ancient history, Commodore,” Captain Guzman corrected, picking up on the slight that Diaz had given Slater by not using his rank or addressing him as “sir” like any junior officer was required to do.
“That’s what I meant. Sorry, Commodore,” Diaz said disingenuously.
“Very well. During that period of conflict, several nations tried a new tactic to gain an advantage in the naval war. The British navy introduced something called a Q-ship to combat the devastating U-boats the German navy had unleashed on their shipping lanes. They took innocuous-looking passenger liners and hid powerful weapons inside, luring the U-boats to the surface before pummeling them with their guns,” Slater said, pulling up a historical vid he had scraped up from the data that had been sent over with Lieutenant Camden.
“One of the most successful of those types of vessels was, ironically, one that their enemy, the German navy, had come up with,” Slater continued. “The Kormoran was designed to change its appearance to match many other enemy or neutral vessels, complete with the appropriate flags and deck structures. Once an enemy was lured in close, they would unmask their guns, either sinking or capturing their prey. I propose we do what the Kormoran did so many years ago and disguise ourselves as what the enemy expects to see.”
Slater ordered his drones to deploy the new items he had researched earlier. Metal frameworks quickly went up around the exterior of the vessel, and drones then began to drape scan-resistant material around the ship. Slater put his ship onto the display for the crew to see as the drones completed their work. It took them some time, and when they were done, the exterior of the ship looked like a mess; metal frames and the clothlike material were strewn about in an almost haphazard manner.
“Wow, sir, you made our cool new ship ugly as sin,” Private Harris said, watching the finished product. Most of the crew had tuned into the feed, anxious to see what plan the captain and commodore had cooked up.
“That is true, Private. It’s ugly on visual sensors, but here’s what we will look like to anyone outside visual range,” Slater said before asking the crewman on sensor duty to pull up their scan profile. Instead of a human destroyer draped in material, the scan of their ship showed the image of a gnomish six-pack mothership. “The ruse will only work until an enemy gets into visual range. I need to research further upgrades to the decoy netting, as I’m calling it. Once my research is complete, we’ll be able to visually resemble an enemy vessel as well as return the same scanner signature.”
“Excellent work, sir. What about other ship types? I understand we have a pretty extensive database of various vessels that Lieutenant Camden brought aboard with him,” Captain Guzman asked.
“You’re correct. We can configure to several different vessels, including some human merchant ships. Nothing better to draw an enemy into range than a helpless and profitable target,” Slater advised.
“I love it. We’ll sneak past any force too powerful for us and lure in those that we can beat,” Guzman said with a chuckle.
“Contact, bearing 054.24,” the human manning the scanner console reported, pulling up the information on their display for the rest of the crew.
“Identifying hostile as a gnomish raider. Designating hostile as R1. The second contact is now on the board. Same ship type. Designating new hostile as R2,” the crewman added.
Slater watched both contacts as they headed in the Franklin’s general direction but were not on an intercept course.
“It will be some time before we show up on their sensors. The ones on those raiders are pretty bad. The main question is, what exactly are they doing here and where is their mothership?” Guzman said, then ordered the main drives lit and the shields raised. Slater’s drones had broken down the last of the mothership, so at least they didn’t have to worry about maneuvers shaking the valuable salvage loose.
“Third contact on screen, designated R3. It’s at a lower velocity than the other two. Perhaps a damaged drive?” the crewman speculated. The other two were burning hard for whatever reason, and the new contact was puttering along at modest thrust. Slater was still not sure what was going on here.
“They’re not on an intercept course and they can’t see us or any other valid target yet. Are they running? Gnomes aren’t known for abandoning their motherships. Losing one is a death sentence for them,” Commander Diaz asked. It was a strange situation, and Slater wasn’t sure what to think.
“There is some other force reported to be in this sector,” Guzman advised. “Whoever this other force is, they ripped up the gnomes pretty bad and forced them back. We tried to recolonize some of our former worlds when the gnomes pulled back but lost all contact with the reestablished colonies shortly after. The ships sent to investigate didn’t return and we’ve never even caught a glimpse of who this new foe was. The SAC has been content to solidify our current holdings and build up defenses for when the gnomes finally decide to make another push. Our mission was to rescue the last few surviving human outposts, like Gabriella’s miners, from our fringe holdings before they, too, disappeared. Unfortunately for us, we ran into the gnomes and were captured,” Captain Guzman advised.
Slater remembered the immense damage that had torn the Tuxpam in half. Not to mention, the attached raider had been found totally devoid of life. The damage hadn’t been done by either party, so who had destroyed them?
“New contact coming into range. Unknown scan signature. Designating unknown contact as U1,” the crewman added. The new contact had a strange scan return, and it was too far away to get much more than a general idea of its
size. The new ship was large, about the size of the gnomish mothership they had fought. This was no mothership, as it was moving way too fast for one and appeared to be on an intercept course for the lagging raider.
“He’s on that raider like a tick on a dog,” Lieutenant Camden said. He and the two privates had entered the bridge during the commotion.
“Lieutenant, please take over the internal defense console. Private Harris and Long, you are relieved. I’ll be sounding general quarters now,” Captain Guzman said, politely reminding the privates they had no business on the bridge. Hearing the wail of the general quarter’s klaxon, Slater watched as the remaining crew rushed to their stations.
The two American privates and the pair of SAC marines they had inherited into their command headed toward the armory to gear up. Another half dozen of Guzman’s crew and a pair of the miners had been checked out at the range earlier and had proven they could handle themselves. The new additions also geared up with weapons and followed the soldiers to the shooting range, which was their designated position. The rest of the crew broke up into small damage-control parties. Though the drones would handle most of the work, Slater wanted to give them something to do as they waited to see what would happen.
“Contact R3 has turned to engage U1. They should be in effective laser range of each other in five seconds,” the crewman advised.
“Thank you, scans,” Guzman said, using the nickname given to crew based on their station. It was not Ensign Smith or Petty Officer Jones when they were at a station. When at their station, they were called by their job for ease of communication. “Zoom in on the pair as much as you can.”
Slater watched the two contacts close with each other. As the stumbling raider turned to fire, it lost its thrust, which allowed the unknown contact to close even faster.
“R3 is firing its weapon,” scans advised. The display flashed to simulate the weapon firing. The raider was pouring it on, firing as fast as it could cycle its small laser weapon. Slater knew from experience that the weapon could do some damage, but if it had been hurt by the raider’s fire, the unknown contact gave no indication. U1 closed the gap.
“Why isn’t U1 firing?” Commander Diaz asked. His answer came shortly thereafter. Just when it appeared that the two would collide, the new contact slowed and fired some unknown energy weapon at the raider, destroying R3 and leaving almost nothing for the scanners to see.
“R3 is destroyed. U1 is on an intercept course for R1. R2 is changing course toward us. I think we’re at the extreme end of their scanner range now, sir,” scans reported.
“Bring main drives to full power. Open up the distance from us and the raider,” Captain Guzman ordered.
Unfortunately, opening the distance from the fight pushed the Franklin in the opposite direction they wanted to go; the battling forces were directly between them and the jump point they wanted to hit. Instead of heading toward home, they were now forced back toward the jump point that led into gnomish space.
“We can try to skirt around the fight once we build up some velocity, Commodore,” Captain Guzman said, almost reading Slater’s mind. Unfortunately, they had been nearly stopped while the Franklin was upgraded, and the raiders and whoever was pursuing them had built up quite a bit of velocity already. While the new attacker might be after the gnomes, Slater wouldn’t assume that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” applied to the newcomer.
“We’re being hailed by R2. They’re requesting docking information,” comms announced.
“Ignore them for now. The longer they’re in the dark, the longer it will take them to realize we’re hostile. Lock weapons onto R2,” Guzman ordered.
“We’ll be at extreme missile range in fifty-nine seconds, sir,” weapons advised.
“We’re getting a better view of the unidentified ship on our scanners now that the range has closed,” scans said while pushing the image of the unknown ship onto the main viewscreen. Slater was confused at the design. This was just a radar scan, but what he saw was unlike any other ship he had seen before. A long central hull was offset by what looked like large sails on either side. Nothing in his database came close to what he was seeing.
“Oh no, Commodore. We need to leave this system now!” Illissa said in a near panic as she looked at the scan. She had been assigned to a science station on the bridge; Slater and Guzman were hoping to use her knowledge of alien races whenever they encountered them. For the first time he could recall, the elf looked scared.
“What are you talking about, Illissa? Do you know what that thing is?” Slater asked.
“Yes, it is our death if we do not leave immediately. Head to the nearest jump point and get out or it will consume us all,” Illissa replied.
“What is it, though? Tell me what we’re facing,” Guzman demanded, upset that the panicking elf was being vague with her information.
“That is a dragon—a large one. For some reason, it has woken from its slumber and it will destroy and consume everything in its path before it settles down again,” Illissa said flatly.
A dragon? Slater had seen some strange things so far, but there was no way a dragon was flying in space. How would it? It had wings, and the thing on his screen was moving with more thrust than any ship he had seen.
“No way. How would a creature like that survive in a vacuum, let alone have that much thrust? Wings don’t work in space, elf,” Diaz said rudely to Illissa, but he was asking the very question Slater was thinking of.
“You are right. Wings don’t work in space, Commander, but magic does,” Illissa replied. Slater watched as her eyes glowed. Blue energy sparked around her body as the elf gathered power before letting it dissipate. “Dragon magic is one of the most powerful in the galaxy. They are also hyperaggressive and kill anything encroaching on their territory. Normally, they sleep for centuries, only waking when disturbed or to feed. For whatever reason, this dragon is loose in the system and it can out-accelerate and outfight us. It protects itself with a shield similar to the one I use, only exponentially stronger. Its breath will breach our puny shields and melt through even your hull in seconds, Commodore Slater. I should also mention that it will likely sense your core as the distance closes and will seek to consume it. You will spend a thousand years in the dragon’s gullet, slowly being drained of your life.”
Slater had no desire to be digested for a thousand years by a dragon, but the alternative seemed nearly as bad and would have them jumping into a system likely swarming with enemies. Still, Illissa hadn’t yet lied to him about such things, and he could tell she was genuinely afraid of the monster. He would have no choice but to flee; this was a fight they couldn’t win.
“Nonsense, our weapons will tear that thing apart,” Commander Diaz said, scoffing at Illissa’s explanation.
“No, we cannot risk all our lives against something this powerful. Captain, set a course at maximum thrust toward the nearest jump gate. Don’t spare the reactors,” Slater ordered.
“Aye, aye, sir. Helm, lay in a course and get us there at maximum burn,” Captain Guzman said.
“You are all nuts. The next system is one jump from the gnomes’ home base. The place will be overrun with ships. I say we blast out at an angle and leave the dragon in our dust. Let the thing eat the gnomes while we make our way home,” Diaz said.
Captain Guzman opened his mouth to rebuke the insubordinate commander when he was interrupted by scans. “U1 has taken out R1. It’s turning. The new course has it heading directly toward the Franklin. The thing changed direction faster than any ship could have, sir. Based on its acceleration profile, it will intercept us before we reach the jump gate . . . barely.”
The Franklin lurched briefly as the engines flared to full and the ship began to head toward the dubious safety of the jump point.
“I’ll see what I can do for our speed. Don’t worry about R2. Keep weapons trained on the dragon,” Slater ordered, not concerned if he was jumping on Guzman’s toes when it came to issuing commands
on the bridge. Survival, not egos, were at stake. Slater focused his core power into the drives, supplementing the reactor. There was a limit to how much power the newly upgraded drives could take, a limit he was exceeding to get them away from the dragon.
“The increase in thrust has us beating the dragon to the jump gate. It’s going to be close, and we’ll have only seconds to spare, sir,” scans replied.
All they could do was watch as the race continued. The engines flashed yellow on the status screen, showing they were overloading. Still, there was nothing they could do if they wanted to live.
“We’re at extreme missile range on U1, sir,” scans advised.
“Redesignate U1 as D1 and fire at will, continuous barrage until the magazines are empty, then fire every weapon that will bear as soon as it’s in range,” Captain Guzman ordered as Slater concentrated on directing his energy to the engines, trying to find the right balance to get them to the jump point before burning out. Thankfully, his jump drive was fully charged and ready to go. The first four missiles streaked past R2, which was still trying desperately to reach the Franklin, convinced on its weak scanners that it was approaching a gnomish mothership. The little vessel didn’t even seem to notice that an unarmed “mothership” had just launched a barrage of missiles.
The weapons hit the dragon with no noticeable effect; the creature kept on course and didn’t slow in the least. Subsequent volleys did nothing, either, and the monster closed to within railgun range. The two railgun turrets thrummed, sending round after round at the beast as quickly as they could cycle. The dragon ignored the volley and only deviated from its course to destroy R2 as it overtook the gnomish ship. A blast of its breath consumed the last raider. Now only the Franklin remained.
