Peacekeeper 2

by Doug Farren

  Keeping the line open, Tom directed a question to his ship, “Orion, can you identify that vessel?”

  “Not at the moment,” the ship replied aloud, allowing Lashpa to hear the conversation. “I should be able to identify it if they engage their engines.”

  “Let’s get at least a light-year from the planetoid before we drop to normal,” Lashpa suggested.

  “Agreed.”

  “The planetoid was a logical choice for a base of operations,” the Krish said. “It’s a considerable distance from the nearest base and well away from the normal lanes of travel. Yet it’s close enough to several occupied planets for them to easily attack and capture unsuspecting cargoliners.”

  “We found them easily enough,” Tom replied. “How did they manage to elude detection for so long?”

  “We took a direct course from a remote Rouldian colony to Glish,” the Orion replied, smoothly picking up where the Krish left off. “This is not a route most ships would take. If we had not made the delivery of medical supplies to Karth, they would still be undetected.”

  “I wonder if they’ve built a base on the surface?” Tom mused.

  “If so, it’s most likely shielded from the probes by the mass of the planetoid,” Lashpa replied.

  “Sublight engine emissions are being detected,” the Orion announced. “The ship appears to be a Chroniech warship. Exact classification is unknown.”

  “I guess that nails it,” Tom said.

  An hour later, a second ship was detected. This one was also identified as a Chroniech ship. Several shuttles were soon detected leaving both ships and descending toward the surface. By the time they reached their planned monitoring points, Tom was convinced the Chroniech were abandoning the base. Lashpa agreed. Confident that no other ships were within sensor range, they dropped out of stardrive and settled in to wait.

  Chapter 27

  Commander Varku kept a watchful eye on the tactical display. He was surprised when both ships engaged their stardrives and left the area at high speed. “Our position has been compromised,” he announced. “Captain Albrath, power all systems and get Base Commander Zathkra on the line.”

  Although Varku was aboard the ship he had captained only a few weeks ago he was now carrying the rank of Commander of Ships, Choback’s original title. Technically, this position should only be held by an individual who was in command of at least three warships. Nobody, however, seemed to see the need to dispute Varku’s assumed title.

  Since a commander of ships could not be the captain of a single ship, Varku’s old executive officer automatically became the captain. The now vacant position of executive officer was being temporarily filled by the tactical officer. Captain Albrath had not yet decided who would be named as the permanent XO.

  The face of the Base Commander appeared on Varku’s center screen. “The Alliance knows we’re here,” the Commander said. “We’re abandoning the base. Gather all available supplies and prepare to evacuate.”

  “How do you want to distribute the personnel?” Zathkra asked.

  “It’s going to be crowded but I will not leave anyone behind. Use your own discretion and split each department equally between the two ships.”

  “Shall I rig a self-destruct?”

  Varku thought about that for a moment. Without access to a supply base he was reluctant to give up even one of his remaining warheads. They had stripped everything of value from the Kyrra planet killer. Even if the Alliance discovered it, there was nothing left to salvage. The defense systems would automatically defend the base and the Alliance response would most likely involve one or more nuclear warheads.

  “No need,” he replied. “The Alliance will no doubt ensure the destruction of the base. I want to be underway as soon as possible—get moving!”

  “I serve with honor,” Zathkra replied as the screen blinked off.

  “Commander,” Captain Albrath spoke up. “I think the Alliance ships left some probes behind. Long-range sensors have identified at least two of them.”

  “Forget about them,” Varku replied. “We don’t have the time to hunt them down. Launch all shuttles and begin the evacuation.”

  “Yes Commander.”

  “Coms,” Varku spoke over the Captain’s head. “Where’s Masthuma?”

  The communication’s operator glanced at Albrath who nodded his head ever so slightly, then tapped a command into his keyboard. Varku had commanded this ship for so long he was having a hard time adapting to his new role. By speaking directly to the crew, he was being quite disrespectful toward the ship’s true captain.

  “He’s working outside the ship at the moment Commander,” the communications operator reported.

  Varku tapped a command into his own keyboard, opening up a private channel to the engineer.

  “Yes Commander?” Masthuma, sounding winded, responded to the call.

  “We’re abandoning the base. Have your men put everything into a safe configuration for acceleration.”

  The sensitive microphone picked up the string of profanity that Masthuma uttered under his breath. Varku knew the engineer was under a great deal of stress and pretended not to hear.

  “This is not a good time Commander,” Masthuma replied. “We’re moving the weapon mount into position so we can begin welding it in place. We have tools and equipment tethered all over the hull. How much time do we have?”

  “The nearest Alliance base is over ten light years from here. But I want to be gone long before their fleet arrives. I can give you 12 hours, no more.”

  Masthuma grunted as if he was exerting himself or trying to squeeze into a difficult spot. “I’ll tell the men,” he said. “That’s cutting it pretty close but we’ll be ready for acceleration in 12 hours or less. We serve with honor.”

  * * * * *

  “Message from Muthan,” the Orion said.

  Tom was in the ship’s kitchen where he had just finished making a sandwich. The aroma of eggs and fried ham still hung in the air. Picking up his ham, egg, and cheese sandwich, he said. “Show me.”

  The computer took control of his eyes, displaying a text message from the Alliance base located on Muthan. A fleet was on the way and would be arriving in a little more than 27 hours. A list of ships making up the fleet scrolled by. Three battleships, two heavy-cruisers, three-battle cruisers, and five standard cruisers.

  “Have the probes picked up anything yet?” Tom asked.

  “Other than the periodic energy signatures of the two orbiting ships and the shuttles, nothing else has been detected.”

  “What about the stealth probes?”

  “There are indications of a subsurface base but there is also a chance the passive sensors of the stealth probes are picking up the stray emissions from surface operations.”

  “Connect to Lashpa,” Tom ordered.

  Almost instantly, Lashpa’s face appeared. Her ghostly image floated in the air a meter from him as he made his way back to the control center. From the background, he could tell she was still in the control center of her own ship.

  “How far away from the planetoid are your probes?” he asked.

  “99,132 kilometers,” she replied. “Close enough for their active sensors to get a good look at the situation. I was thinking of switching one of them to active mode.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Tom sat down in his own command chair as the probe went active. Several screens came to life as the data began pouring in. The two icons indicating the Chroniech ships, which up until now had been showing them as an unknown classification, suddenly changed. One was identified as a heavy battleship and the other as a standard battleship. Both were incredibly dangerous adversaries. Another group of icons sprang into existence as the presence of several surface installations were detected.

  “So they do have a base,” Tom said.

  “The battleship is moving to intercept,” Lashpa said.

  Another icon suddenly appeared on the screen. The accompanying data indic
ated it was a large metallic object orbiting the planetoid. “Could that be the Spirondak?” Tom asked.

  “It’s a good possibility,” Lashpa replied.

  As Tom watched, the smaller battleship increased its speed and headed into space on an intercept course. Ten minutes later, the probe ceased transmitting.

  “That’s interesting,” Lashpa said. “Take a look at the energy readings from the heavy battleship, particularly the midship region.”

  Responding to the conversation, the Orion put up a detailed image on one of Tom’s many secondary screens. There was a definite, very focused, intense broadband energy spike in that area.

  “My ship has identified it as possible welding or cutting on the hull,” Lashpa explained.

  “Last minute repairs before leaving the base?” Tom asked.

  “Quite possibly. I’ll leave the second probe in stealth mode. Perhaps its passive sensors will give us some additional data as it closes in on the base.”

  “Excellent idea,” Tom said. “That’s about all we can do for now. Time to just sit and wait for the fleet to arrive.”

  “Chess?” Lashpa asked.

  “My turn to take white,” Tom replied as the control center faded away to be replaced by a chessboard sitting on a stone table in a virtual park.

  Working together, the Krish and the Orion created a near perfect illusion of a quiet park similar to the one Tom and Lashpa used to spend time in while at the academy. This close cooperation required the two computers to exchange a vast amount of information with each other. Over the past several weeks, the AIs had developed their own unique system of exchanging information.

  In order to make this new information interchange as efficient as possible, the AIs had exchanged biolink protocols which each other. After Tom had given his permission for Krish to receive his protocol, the Orion requested and automatically received Lashpa’s protocol. Both ships could now simultaneously monitor both peacekeepers. As a result of this dual monitoring, and information exchange, the AIs had noticed something unusual.

  The biolinks enabled the AIs linked to them to literally read the thoughts of peacekeepers. A brain is the equivalent of a massively parallel computer that is constantly processing and reprocessing information. Although the biolink is capable of detecting this vast, complex activity, it can only interpret thoughts that are clearly expressed. Over time, the AI learns how to identify emotions, desires, and other difficult to categorize thought processes. These become part of a pattern the AI considers as normal.

  The biolink can also send thoughts to a peacekeeper. Because such thoughts originate from outside the peacekeeper’s brain, special training is required before the peacekeeper can actually understand these incoming thoughts. When clarity is required or a complex thought or picture must be transmitted, the AI will utilize the interface available through the peacekeeper’s eyes or ears.

  While linked, the Krish and the Orion had observed a correlation in the underlying brainwave patterns of Tom and Lashpa. The correlation was based upon a complex statistical analysis of the overall pattern of brain activity of the two peacekeepers while they were interacting with each other. It was as if their two brains had become synchronized at a level too deep for the powerful computers to completely analyze. It was a statistical mystery that would require further analysis.

  Chapter 28

  “Tom!” the ship said, loud enough to wake him. As soon as the Orion detected he was awake, it continued. “The Chroniech are leaving.”

  Tom and Lashpa had finished their game of chess and decided to catch some sleep while they waited. Glancing at his tactical display, Tom could see that both Chroniech ships were rapidly leaving the planetoid.

  “How long before the fleet arrives?” Lashpa asked, through the still open communications link.

  “Five hours seventeen minutes,” Tom heard her ship reply.

  Tom continued to stare at the tactical display as the Chroniech vessels engaged their stardrive. “No sense in trying to follow them,” he said. “They’re heading away from us and are faster than we are.”

  “And,” Lashpa added, “They’ll be beyond the probe’s detection range before either of us can get close enough to follow them for even a short period of time.”

  “Shall we see what they left behind?” he asked.

  “Heading back now,” Lashpa replied.

  “Going active on my stealth probe and sending it in for a closer look.”

  “Sending mine in as well,” Tom replied.

  “I’ll adjust my acceleration to keep the probe out of possible weapon range until we arrive.”

  “That’ll give mine a chance to get closer.”

  Tom’s hands performed a well-choreographed dance across his control board setting a course back to the planetoid. He hit the initiate button and without pausing, turned his attention to the two probes he had dropped off earlier. As his ship engaged its stardrive he glanced at the tactical display and performed a series of rapid mental calculations. His ship would arrive at the planetoid in a little under two and a half hours. By setting the probe’s acceleration to 0.8 gravities, he calculated they would be entering the base’s weapons range only a few minutes after he and Lashpa arrived on the scene.

  With the programming completed, there was nothing else to do except wait. Tom’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in awhile so after informing Lashpa of his plans, he got up and headed for the kitchen.

  “Do we have any lasagna left?” he asked the ship.

  “There are three servings remaining,” the ship replied. “I will order more when we arrive at our next port.”

  Lasagna had been his favorite meal during his college days. After joining the military, he was disappointed to find that it was rarely served aboard ships. It was just as hard to find in many of the remote starports he visited while in the military. But now, he could enjoy his favorite meal as often as he desired. One of the ship’s small maintenance robots brought the meal to the kitchen from the freezer and before long the enticing aroma of baked lasagna filled the ship.

  * * * * *

  “Three shields have just appeared on the surface,” the Orion announced. “Several weapon systems are powering up.”

  They were still a few minutes away from dropping out of stardrive. Tom looked at the data from the probe flowing across the screen. Two of the shields appeared to be of similar design, the ship’s computer identifying them as Chroniech in origin. The third was of an unfamiliar pattern the computer could not classify.

  “What do you make of that unknown shield?” Tom asked Lashpa over the open link.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “Perhaps it’s a new type of Chroniech shield.”

  “Or one that’s been damaged and the repair altered it’s energy emissions.”

  The data feed from Lashpa’s remaining probe suddenly stopped. Using the data from the others, Tom could see that it had been destroyed by a powerful energy beam. With a flick of his hand he transferred the data to his tactical analysis system. Nearly all weapons produced a characteristic energy signature that uniquely identified the race that built it. In this instance, the weapon came up as unknown.

  “My tactical system can’t identify the weapon,” Tom told Lashpa.

  “Neither can mine,” she replied. “It originated from behind the shield of unknown origin. Coincidence?”

  “Could these Chroniech have been developing a new weapon system?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think we should try our best to preserve the base so we can find out.”

  “Agreed. Orion, instruct the commander of the attack force that he is to do his best to preserve as much of the base as possible during his attack.”

  “Acknowledged,” the ship replied.

  The second and the third probes were both destroyed a few seconds later. With the threats removed, the base’s defense shields vanished. The two peacekeepers halted their advance toward the base. They occupied themselves with a game
of chess while they waited for the fleet to arrive.

  A few seconds after the fleet dropped out of stardrive, the Orion’s AI automatically accepted an incoming call from the Fleet Commander and put her on a three-way conference call with Tom and Lashpa.

  “I am Captain Nareth-ga-Shuf Harth-ga-Lorgrth. I’ve received your request to preserve as much of the base as possible while rendering it safe to approach. As long as it’s not rigged with a self-destruct I believe I can achieve your goal. May I begin?”

  Tom recognized the oddly constructed Rouldian name as meaning that the Captain had declared gragrakch. “I am Tom-ga-Lashpa Wilks-ga-Krish,” he quickly replied. “We’ll stay out of the way while you take care of the base.”

  Although Rouldians were unable to show much emotion in their facial expression, Tom could tell by her reaction that Lashpa was both surprised and pleased at how he had introduced himself.

  “I am Lashpa-ga-Tom Krish-ga-Wilks,” she replied. “After the base defenses have been eliminated I would like to use some of your maintenance bots to ensure it’s safe before allowing anyone inside.”

  Tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched the Captain’s head shift back and forth as she looked at the two images on her screen. “Gragrakch?” she asked, the tone of her voice indicating her disbelief.

  “We are,” Lashpa proudly replied.

  The Captain’s head tilted slightly as she struggled to understand how any Rouldian could consider a Terran as gragrakch. With a visible shake of her head, she put her confusion aside and said, “I can do better than simple maintenance bots. We’ve been testing ten combat robots to see how they interact with our crew. I can have them armed and put aboard a shuttle if you like.”

  “I’ve heard of these,” Lashpa replied. “Are they autonomous or tethered?”

  “Autonomous but with a remote override,” the Captain replied. “This would be an excellent opportunity to field test them.”

  “By all means,” Tom agreed. “I’d like to see these things in action myself.”