by Doug Farren
Chapter 24
“Target locked,” Trink announced.
Masthuma looked over the screens then turned to Varku and said, “We’re ready to fire on your command.”
Varku looked nervous. “How much antimatter did you say is in the tank?”
“Roughly 100 grams,” Masthuma replied. “We picked this amount because we have no idea how much the weapon will use. In the event of a catastrophic failure, the blast will be equivalent to about 2 megatons. We’ll be perfectly safe Commander.”
“But the weapon will be a total loss,” Varku replied.
“We’ve done as much analysis as we can concerning how it’s supposed to operate,” Masthuma said. “The only way to know for sure if our analysis is correct is to test fire it with the antimatter. Without it the weapon is useless.”
Varku glanced around the room. In front of him, Masthuma and Trink each sat before a large bank of screens which would be used to monitor the results of the test. Behind him stood a large group of anxious engineers and mechanics. They’d been working together as a team for the past week to prepare for this moment. The room’s ventilation system was unable to keep up with the heat and moisture being generated by so many bodies packed into such a small space. The temperature and humidity were beginning to climb.
Unable to come up with a valid reason to abort, he steeled himself and said, “Fire.”
Masthuma tapped a pulsing icon on his main screen. Halfway around the planetoid, the Kyrra energy cannon began to draw power. Complex fields formed deep inside the weapon. An incredibly precise set of metering valves extracted a tiny amount of antimatter from the holding tank, sending it along a gravitic tube toward the firing chamber. Directly behind it, separated by only a fraction of an angstrom, was the exact same amount of matter from the other tank. Matter and antimatter traveled along the same tube, entering the heart of the weapon. Each packet of material was wrapped in a self-sustaining cocoon of energy that created a tiny bubble of spacetime. The bubble reacted with the fields of the firing chamber, moving it into the acceleration section.
Traveling at just over 200 times light speed, the packets raced through space leaving a ghostly blue trail in their wake that looked like a beam of light. This visual effect was the result of the interaction of the weapon’s FTL field with the surrounding space. This interaction sapped power from the field, causing it to lose its integrity in just under 2.3 microseconds giving the weapon a range of just over 140,000 kilometers. At a distance of 50,000 kilometers, the beam struck the target. Matter and antimatter mixed and annihilated each other, creating a spray of fast-moving subatomic particles and pure energy.
A large, multi-ton rock had been lifted from the surface of the planetoid to serve as a target. It didn’t stand a chance. A brilliant, eye-searing flash of light appeared on the rock’s surface as the beam found its target. A split second later, an enormous section of the surface was blasted into space. After another second, the rock blew itself apart as the beam dumped terajoules of energy into its interior. With the target destroyed, the beam continued on into space, eventually fading away as the FTL fields surrounding the packets of matter and antimatter fell apart.
The test program Masthuma had initiated, shut the weapon down after five seconds. The operations center was silent as those who had witnessed the brief test tried to comprehend what had just happened. Masthuma and Trink were both staring at the data their monitors had collected.
Varku was the first to react. Slamming his fist into the arm of his chair, he let out an ear-splitting roar; the war-cry of the Chroniech. The others in the room quickly joined their commander, causing a passerby in the tunnel to open the door to see what all the ruckus was about.
“Leave!” Varku yelled at the intruder who quickly backed out of the room.
“This is unbelievable!” Trink exclaimed. “The entire contents of the antimatter tank were emptied in 3.38 seconds.”
Masthuma’s hands flew over his computer keyboard. “That means the weapon can deliver almost 2,500 terajoules every second. There’s no shield or material known to our science that can stop it!”
Varku walked over to Masthuma and thumped him on the back. “You’ve done well. I want this weapon mounted on my ship as soon as possible. How long will it take?”
“We don’t have the facilities of a shipyard,” Masthuma hesitantly replied. “Given the equipment and the manpower we have available and assuming we work day and night, I estimate at least fifteen days to get the equipment installed. We’ll then have to spend a few days testing and aligning before the first test firing. Integrating it with our existing fire control system is going to present a challenge.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Turning around to face the tightly packed crowd lining the back wall, Varku said, “Take a day to rest and celebrate this accomplishment. Soon, the Alliance will know what it means to experience fear.”
Varku turned and headed for the door. As he passed Masthuma, he lowered his voice and said, “Get your teams working on installing the weapon as soon as you can. If you require any other assistance, I want to know.”
“I serve with honor,” Masthuma replied. Raising his voice so the entire room could hear, he said, “You heard the Commander. First shift is to muster in the workshop at 0600 in two days. Get plenty of rest. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
Masthuma stood by the door and thumped each person on the back as they exited, muttering a word of thanks or encouragement to each of his team. The cool air from outside the room felt good. When the room was clear, Zathkra walked over and clapped Masthuma on the back.
“I know we’ve had our differences,” he said. “I did not think you would succeed, but you did. I will never again doubt your abilities.”
Masthuma looked into Zathkra’s eyes and saw an old friend trying to rebuild their relationship. He had been bitter when Choback chose Zathkra to be base commander instead of him. He had been the more senior officer and the job should have rightfully been his. Zathkra made matters worse by assuming a superior attitude, treating his old friend as if he were a common warrior instead of an officer.
Raising his chin ever so slightly, Masthuma said, “The past is in the past. I look to the future. Thank you.”
“How are you going to mount the weapon?” Zathkra asked.
“I plan on removing the hull plating between frames 112 and 114, which will expose storage room 4 to space. All of the weapon’s equipment including the storage tanks and the antimatter converter needed to keep the antimatter tank topped off, will have to be mounted on a movable platform. We have no idea how to electronically steer the beam so the entire weapon is going to have to be moved to aim it.”
“That will create a weak point in our armor,” Zathkra pointed out. “A single hit could breach the antimatter tank.”
“I’ve considered that. Additional armor will be added to protect as much of that area as possible. The weapon, however, will need to be as light as possible so it can be quickly moved. With its range, we’ll be able to engage and destroy any enemy ships long before they can fire on us.”
“And the matter converters?”
“They’ll be mounted to the dorsal side of the hull just as they were on the Kyrra vessel only I plan on spreading them out more. There’s no need to aim them. Just orbit the ship with the converters facing the surface.”
“It sounds as if you have things well in hand. I can’t wait to be off this rock and back into space.”
“I can’t wait to see this weapon in action against the Alliance,” Masthuma replied. Turning, he left the operations center and walked proudly down the tunnel to join the rest of his team.
Chapter 25
Varku grimaced as he took a sip from his cup. He was trying to get the taste of Alliance meat out of his mouth with an extra-strong cup of another alien beverage.
“Whatever species that was” he said to no one in particular, “I won’t eat it again.”
The tactic
al officer turned around and replied, “The medical officer claims it’s healthy.”
“Healthy or not,” the communications operator joined the conversation, “I won’t touch it again unless the cook can figure out another way to prepare it.”
“It might be better in a spicy stew,” the helm suggested.
The Commander took another sip of his beverage, swished it around inside his mouth, swallowed, then said, “Anything would be better than- - -” An alarm on the tactical station’s console interrupted him.
“Multiple drive wakes detected!” the tactical officer announced. “Two Alliance vessels heading this way—ETA 1.5 hours.”
Varku set his cup aside and looked at the data that had appeared on the tactical display. He was glad to have relocated his command to his battleship; the equipment here was so much better than the operations center of the base. “Can you identify the ships?”
“The computer does not have any record of this particular drive-wake signature,” the tactical officer replied. “Both ships are identical; some type of small vessel, possibly scout ships or small civilian vessels.”
“How close will they get to us?” Varku demanded.
The officer keyed the request into his console. “If they maintain their present course, they’ll pass within 300,000 kilometers. The base will be shielded from them by the mass of the planetoid as they pass.”
“Will they be able to detect us?”
“As long as we reduce our emissions, I believe we will remain undetected.”
“Coms, inform Base Commander Zanthra of the situation and order him to initiate emergency action plan Zeta-1, then get Captain Gritharg on the line. Helm, put us behind the planetoid and hold position there using tractor beams. Engineering, rig the ship for reduced emissions. Tactical, charge weapons.”
A chorus of acknowledgments indicated the crew was carrying out his orders. A moment later, the face of Captain Gritharg appeared on one of Varku’s screens. “Yes Commander?” Gritharg asked as soon as the connection was complete.
“I’m assuming you are aware of the approaching ships?”
“I am. What are your orders?”
“Move your ship to the opposite side of the planetoid and rig for reduced emissions. Charge your weapons in case we’re detected. As long as we don’t engage our drive systems they should not be able to identify us until it’s too late.”
“I serve with honor,” the Captain replied, just before the image blanked out.
In the base below, fusion reactors were powered down and all devices capable of generating any emissions that could be picked up by the approaching ships, were turned off. Crews rushed to their emergency stations, manning the weapons that would be used to protect the base in the event of an attack.
The two ships did not deviate from their course as they approached. One point three seconds before their closest approach, a warning popped up on the communications console. “Someone’s transmitting!” the communications operator shouted.
“Alliance ships are rapidly slowing!” the tactical officer announced a moment later.
Varku shot out of his chair. “Where’s that signal coming from?” he demanded.
The communication operator’s hands were quickly moving over his panel as he tried to locate the source of the unauthorized transmission. Varku glanced at the tactical display in time to see the two Alliance ships drop out of stardrive. Whirling around, he confronted the communications operator. “Locate that signal!”
“It’s coming from the Alliance ship we recently captured.”
“Impossible!” Varku said. Three quick steps brought him to the communications console. His eyes quickly scanned the displays. “That ship is almost completely dismantled. It has no source of power.”
“It might be a distress beacon,” the frightened operator said, offering up an explanation. “It probably reacted to the presence of the Alliance ships when they got close enough and it most likely has its own power source.”
Two icons suddenly appeared on one of the screens. “Captain Gritharg is calling us,” the com operator said. “And it looks like one of the Alliance ships is trying to make contact as well.”
“Put the captain through here,” Varku ordered.
“Commander, request permission to engage,” Gritharg said, the moment his face appeared on the screen.
“No,” Varku replied, an idea beginning to form. After thinking for a moment he continued, “The Alliance ships can’t possibly identify us at this distance. I doubt they even know we’re here yet because we’re behind the planetoid. They’ll alter course to investigate. As soon as they’re close enough, we’ll jam their transmissions and attack.”
Chapter 26
Lashpa moved her knight into play, completing a set of moves she’d been planning for the past half an hour. Tom leaned forward and pretended to scowl. He had caught on to her plan four turns ago and developed a risky counter-offensive. Ignoring the threat against his rook, he pushed a pawn, simultaneously attacking the threatening knight and opening up a diagonal for his queen. Now it was Lashpa’s turn to scowl; a difficult emotion for her reptilian face to express. The virtual-reality link between their two ships was detailed enough for him to see her tail moving back and forth ever so slightly.
“You figured out what I was up to, didn’t you?” she asked.
Tom smiled. “Several moves ago.”
The corners of Lashpa’s mouth slid up revealing a portion of her many teeth. Her tail swished back and forth in a slow arc. Tom became worried. Instead of taking the rook as he expected, she moved the knight out of danger and into what at first appeared to be a more vulnerable position. Tom could easily take the knight with his queen but it would leave his most powerful piece in an awkward position. As he scanned the possible moves ahead, he discovered that Lashpa’s more visible plan had actually been a ploy to maneuver him into this new position.
Tom leaned back and shook his head. “Brilliant. Very well-played.”
“Thank you. But the game isn’t over yet. You still have a chance.”
“Not if you keep playing like that!”
“Do you wish to resign?”
“Hell no! Give me a- - -”
“I am picking up an emergency distress beacon,” the Orion interrupted. Tom could feel the ship as it began executing an emergency deceleration. The chess board and the simulated environment the two peacekeepers had been immersed in, vanished.
Tom looked at his tactical display to see a lone planet floating in the void. An icon next to it identified the source of the distress beacon. “What is that?” he asked.
“A rogue planet designated as PKX-177. It was discovered by a Shandarian vessel over 14 years ago.”
“Tom!” Lashpa said, the tone of her voice indicating she had found something important. “It’s the Spirondak!”
“Confirmed,” his ship said. “I have attempted to make contact but have not received a reply.”
“We know for a fact that the Spirondak was attacked by a Chroniech warship,” Tom said. “There can’t be any survivors. This has to be a trap.”
“I recommend dropping to normal, deploying probes, and then rapidly exiting the area,” Lashpa suggested.
“I agree,” Tom replied. “I’ll take care of the stationary probes. You fire off a couple stealth probes toward the planetoid and then continue on course to Glish while I head in another direction. If it’s safe we’ll drop back to normal after a few light years to stay in touch with the probes.”
“Agreed.”
The Orion and the Krish simultaneously dropped out of stardrive, reappearing in normal space. Tom’s hands danced over his control board, rapidly deploying two probes programmed to remain stationary. Lashpa’s probes applied a short burst of acceleration then vanished from Tom’s sensors as they went into stealth mode.
“I have received the modulation codes for Lashpa’s probes,” the Orion informed him. This was a crucial piece of information. Without the correct
modulation codes, it would be impossible for the Orion to receive or send any data to the probes. Their transceivers utilized a highly compressed, multi-spectrum coded transmission that was virtually indistinguishable from background noise. Each probe had a unique code and even Alliance vessels could not detect their transmissions without the correct modulation code.
Tom picked a course at random, keyed in the required commands, and then touched the initiate button. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit him as the ship performed an emergency transition to FTL. The main reactor located one deck below complained with a loud hum as it fed power into the drive fields. Within seconds, he was hurtling away at almost 4,000 times the speed of light. Glancing at his tactical display, he noted that Lashpa’s ship had done the same.
“An emergency transmission has been sent to sector command,” Lashpa said, her image badly distorted by their drive fields. “I told them we would remain in the area.”
“Roger that,” Tom replied, his hands weaving a complex pattern over his console. “I’m setting up a tight link between us,” he continued. “That way, we can stay in contact without the Chroniech picking up our transmissions.”
“What if it is the Spirondak?” Lashpa asked.
“Then we’ll turn around. But we have a witness who’s never seen a Chroniech warship before who identified it as the vessel that attacked the cargoliner. It has to be a trap.”
Ten minutes later, the probes picked up the faint energy signature of a ship moving from behind the bulk of the planetoid.
“You were right,” Lashpa admitted. “The distress signal has ended as well.”
“The bastards were trying to draw us in,” Tom remarked. Staring at the tactical display, he added, “They’re not pursuing us.”
“We have a significant head start,” Lashpa explained. “Although their ships are faster, it would require several hours for them to catch us. Since they cannot jam our communications, there’s no point in a pursuit.”
