Peacekeeper 2

by Doug Farren

  “They’re trying to approach us from our dorsal side,” Shagorath said. “They know about our blind spot.”

  “Initiate roll,” Albrath ordered. “Helm, keep us along the edge of their fleet!”

  The hands of the helmsman performed an intricate dance across his controls. He played his console like a master pianist, twisting and turning the battleship in an effort to keep it engaged with the enemy yet not allowing too many of their ships to come within weapons range. It was a job that required a great deal of skill and concentration. He acknowledged the Captain’s order with a single grunt.

  A Chroniech master battleship is an exceptionally large vessel. It is also a superbly designed warship capable of achieving very high accelerations in virtually any direction. The ship’s computers kept careful watch over the commands being fed into the drive systems automatically reducing those accelerations that might put undue stress on the ship. As the battle raged on, the helm started to override some of those restrictions causing the crew to feel the effects of the wild maneuvers the ship was being put through. The computer, however, had the ultimate authority since it was programmed to not allow the helm to exceed certain extreme limits. There were several times when a particularly violent maneuver triggered these limits.

  Albrath and Varku kept a close eye on the battle, looking for patterns and opportunities to improve their position. One of the most important parameters they watched was the load on the ship’s defense shield. So far, it had not gone above 60%, a number they were both comfortable with. Fifteen minutes into the fight, the shield loading suddenly jumped beyond 90%.

  Varku snapped his head around to look at the tactical summary screen then yelled, “Helm! 187, Mark 0 max! Tactical! I told you to watch out for cloaked stations!”

  The base commander on Torth had kept some of his defense stations cloaked in the hopes they would be overlooked during the heat of the battle. The gambit had paid off and one of the stations was now engaging the battleship. Its single, titanic energy cannon was pouring every joule of energy available into their shield. For a brief instant, the shield was overloaded and began to leak. Armor started to heat up and soften.

  The helm, responding to the Commander’s order, overrode the computer and applied maximum allowable thrust in the direction indicated. Varku, along with the rest of the crew, felt themselves being pushed forward as the ship rapidly backed away from the defense station. Three of the battleship’s four primary guns shifted their focus from a Shandarian battleship to the defense station. The defense station’s shield tried its best to deflect the attack but failed. The energy that leaked past the shield was sufficient to burn through the thick armor in less than 16 seconds. With the armor gone, the weapons happily melted their way into the heart of the station, turning its main fusion reactor into a molten mass of radioactive metal. The station’s gun went silent.

  “We’ve lost the Kyrra weapon!” the person manning the weapon station yelled.

  “Helm, get us away from the Alliance fleet,” Varku ordered. “Weapons, report in detail.”

  “It wasn’t hit,” the weapons operator replied as he scanned his panel. “It just shut down and stopped working. I’m not sure what’s wrong with it.”

  “Masthuma, on screen,” Varku said. The ship’s computer noted that the chief engineer was not on the bridge and opened up a link to him, putting it up on one of Varku’s screens.

  “One second Commander,” Masthuma replied as soon as the connection was established. The engineer was not looking at the screen. His attention was focused somewhere to his right and he appeared to be operating a keyboard just below the range of the camera.

  “There’s a problem with the antimatter generator,” he reported after a moment. “The weapon has placed itself into safe mode until the problem can be corrected.”

  “How long?” Varku asked.

  “I won’t know until I can inspect the weapon,” Mashthuma replied.

  “Then do so immediately,” Varku ordered.

  “It’ll take me a few minutes to get into a suit,” Masthuma replied. “I’ll call the bridge as soon as I know what’s happened.”

  Albrath was furious. Glancing at his tactical overview he noted there were 22 Alliance ships remaining. Too many for him to engage without the Kyrra antimatter cannon. He’d come so close. Ten more minutes and he would’ve crushed the enemy fleet and then moved on to the base. Getting out of his chair, he approached the tactical station, the hairs surrounding his face standing out making him look far larger. He bared his teeth and extended his claws.

  Shagorath reacted as any Chroniech would. He quickly stood up and assumed a defensive position, his own hair fluffing out and his claws sliding into view. He blocked Albrath’s first swing but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the Captain’s left arm. Albrath’s claws raked down the side of Shagorath’s face, ripping a large tear in his cheek. Shagorath counterattacked and caught a claw along the edge of Albrath’s shoulder. The Captain, however, was bigger and stronger and with a powerful thrust of his right arm pushed Shagorath backward until he collided with his panel.

  Albrath kicked Shagorath’s legs, causing him to collapse to the deck. Raising his hand over his head, he looked down at the defeated and bleeding lieutenant.

  “Get off my bridge before I kill you!” Albrath demanded, spittle flying from his mouth.

  For an instant it looked like Shagorath was going to resume the battle. The two combatants locked eyes then Shagorath lowered his head and said, “I serve with honor.”

  Albrath dropped his arm but kept his claws extended. “Honor has not been served this time,” he said. “Get out!”

  Breathing heavily, blood matting the fur of his left arm, Albrath returned to his command chair as the tactical officer left the bridge. Varku said nothing. Albrath was free to discipline his men in any way he seemed fit as long as it did not compromise the battle worthiness of the ship. With its superior acceleration, the battleship was leaving the Alliance fleet behind, heading away from the base and the planet it protected.

  “Captain Albrath,” Varku said after a moment. “Set course for our next target. Set your speed at 3,000c.”

  Albrath swung his head around and glared at Varku. For a moment, the Commander thought the Captain was actually considering attacking him. Setting his jaw and taking a deep breath, Albrath said, “I would prefer to finish what we started—Commander.”

  Varku could smell the sweet aroma of sweat mixed with the more pungent smell of blood.

  “We will, but not now,” Varku calmly replied. “First, we must convince the Alliance that we’ve given up on this target. They will have gained confidence as a result of our withdrawal and they will move all their ships to defend the next target. When you’ve reached the half-way point, turn around and head back at maximum speed.”

  Varku stood up and took a step towards the door then stopped and turned around. “Patch me into the link when Masthuma makes his report.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the bridge.

  * * * * *

  “He’s retreating!” Lieutenant Billings announced.

  “Why?” Scarboro asked. “He was winning. What happened?”

  “It looks like they might have lost the Kyrra weapon,” Billings replied. “They only damaged the Hinshron. The beam cut off before the ship was destroyed. Shortly after that they disengaged.”

  “We should attack!” Stiles said from behind the captain’s chair. “Without that weapon we have the advantage.”

  “It also might be a ploy to get us to do just that,” Scarboro replied. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

  Stiles looked at the fleeing image of the battleship, his mouth partly open. After a moment, he calmed down and said, “No. If you’re right they’ll take us out with a single shot. Even if the weapon is damaged, they might be able to get it fixed before we’re in range.”

  “Follow them,” Scarboro ordered. “They’ll probably make repairs and come back to finish w
hat they started.”

  “I’m not sure of that,” the helm replied. “It looks like they’re heading for Kree’a-Thera.”

  Billings turned to his console and keyed in a command. “Confirmed,” he said. “They’re on a direct course for Kree’a-Thera.”

  “They’re moving pretty slow too,” Chief Novak added. “Three-thousand cee.”

  Scarboro stood up and stretched. “He’s up to something. Why would he be going so slow?”

  “He might have taken some damage,” Senior Chief Ivy Thais said from the engineering station.

  Scarboro twisted to the right then to the left. A distinct popping sound could be heard from his back. “Possible, but not likely. My guess is he’s just trying to make us think he’s giving himself time to repair the Kyrra weapon. He’s hoping we’ll attack. I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.”

  Retaking his seat, Scarboro said, “Helm, follow him as we’ve always done. If he stays on this course, slowly move us closer. Let’s see how he reacts. Take us to 150,000 kilometers and then maintain that distance.”

  “Aye Sir!”

  Chapter 49

  “Masthuma is on com channel three,” the communication operator said.

  “Inform the Commander and patch him into the link,” Albrath ordered.

  Touching a button on his panel connected him to the engineer. The bouncing image of a brightly lit compartment crammed with equipment appeared on the screen. It was immediately apparent that the image was being transmitted from Masthuma’s helmet camera. The image spun as Masthuma looked up at what should have been the overhead. Only there wasn’t one. A heavy pedestal rose from the floor and extended above the edge of the compartment, which was open to space. The business end of the antimatter cannon was installed on top of the pedestal.

  An icon appeared in the corner of the screen indicating that Varku was now connected to the same communications channel. “What have you found?” Varku asked.

  “I’m making my way to the converter,” Masthuma reported. The view quickly dropped back into the compartment to reveal a large, shiny, pyramid-shaped object. The scene bounced around as Masthuma inspected the surrounding area. “I don’t see anything wrong,” he said. “Give me a minute while I run a diagnostic.”

  The engineer approached an enclosure mounted on the side of the converter and opened the door. A small computer screen could be seen inside. While he watched Masthuma work, Captain Albrath gave the order to engage the stardrive.

  “The matter feed through the converter beam is misaligned,” Masthuma said, as the stardrive engaged. “Trink, go up and take a look. I’ll stay here to monitor the alignment.”

  A second space-suited figure appeared and started to climb an access ladder running along the side of the converter. A moment later, Trink said, “The injector is way out of alignment.” Grunting sounds were heard, then, “I don’t think the injector assembly welding was finished. All I see are the tack welds.”

  “I’m glad I put those safeties in place,” Masthuma said. “Commander, we’re going to have to realign the injector and weld the mount. Shouldn’t take more than three or four hours.”

  “Get a crew working on it immediately,” Varku ordered.

  “I serve with honor,” Masthuma replied.

  Varku stepped into the bridge about an hour later. Looking around, he noted that Albrath was not in sight. “Where’s the Captain?” he asked.

  “In the head, Commander,” the tactical station replied.

  A moment later, Albrath stepped out of the small head that served the bridge. “What’s our status?” Varku immediately demanded.

  “Repairs are proceeding,” Albrath replied. “We’re still on course for the next target. The Alliance cruiser is continuing to shadow us. We’re very lucky he decided not to attack.”

  “It would’ve been a difficult decision for him to make,” Varku replied, taking his seat. “It’s difficult to- - -”

  “The Alliance cruiser is moving closer,” Tanaktak, the new tactical operator interrupted.

  Varku and Albrath both looked at the tactical display. The barely visible line stretching between the two ships had a small number indicating the distance between the two vessels. As they watched, the value slowly ticked down.

  “What are they up to?” Albrath asked.

  “Perhaps they’re trying to increase the resolution of their scans,” Tanaktak proposed.

  Varku shook his head. “I doubt that. Scan resolution even at close range between two ships traveling at FTL speed is severely limited by the drive fields.”

  “They may be using Kyrra-built scanners,” Tanaktak replied.

  “Then they would have moved closer sooner.”

  “They might be trying to force us out of stardrive,” the helm suggested.

  Albrath made a noise that sounded like a grunt combined with a forced exhale. “They can’t possibly hope to accomplish that.”

  “Captain, they might actually be able to force us into normal space,” the helm said without taking his eyes off his console.

  “Explain,” Albrath demanded.

  “If they get close enough for their drive field to interfere with ours it would force both ships to drop out of stardrive. The maneuver is possible but is exceedingly dangerous and can result in severe damage to both stardrives. There’s also the possibility of an unavoidable high-velocity collision.”

  “Then I doubt that’s his intention,” Varku said. “That ship is too valuable to the Alliance for them to take such a risk. He may be trying to entice us into dropping out of stardrive, to slow us down so they can deploy more forces to defend the planet we’re heading for. Maintain our current speed and keep a close eye on him. If he gets too close, initiate an emergency drop to normal.”

  “How close is too close?” the Captain asked.

  “Our drive fields will begin to interact at a distance of about 30 kilometers,” the helm replied.

  “Drop to normal if he gets within 100 kilometers.”

  Chapter 50

  Tom tipped his king over. “I resign.”

  Lashpa had become good enough to beat him at nearly every game. The seemingly miraculous turn of events at Torth had put them both in a good mood. When word was received that the battleship was heading their way, the crews of the waiting ships were told to get some rest and then stand by for final orders. Torth is 11 light years from Kree’a-Thera which gave the crews at least a day before the action would begin.

  After getting some sleep, Tom had called Lashpa and they decided to play chess to pass the time. She won the first game and after taking a short break for lunch they played a second which she also won.

  “Either you’re getting worse or I’m getting better,” Lashpa said, after Tom’s king hit the virtual chessboard.

  With a wave of his hand he swiped the board into oblivion. “You’re definitely getting better,” Tom replied. “I was warned this would happen.”

  The virtual reality scene shifted. The table sank into the floor which morphed into a grassy field. Several large trees grew toward the sky as Tom felt himself being repositioned to a sitting position. It was on odd feeling having one’s body manipulated by invisible forces, but it was one he was used to. This was Lashpa’s favorite simulation and she had initiated the shift.

  “You were? By whom?” she asked.

  “Another grandmaster,” Tom replied. “Rouldians apparently have an inherent advantage because of how your brains are constructed. I guess you think differently than us humans.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Lashpa replied.

  “That’s why Rouldians are rated separately from Terrans,” Tom explained. “You really need to start playing other- - -”

  A young man and a young Rouldian suddenly appeared standing side-by-side. It took Tom a moment before he realized the images were representing their two ships.

  “May we have a word?” the two avatars asked in perfect unison.

  Tom and Lashpa looked at eac
h other, clearly surprised. “Of course,” Lashpa finally said.

  The Orion’s avatar sank to the ground and assumed a cross-legged position while Krish’s lowered itself into a more typical Rouldian lying position on the grass next to the Orion.

  “Krish and I,” the Orion began, “have been monitoring a subtle but statistically significant change in your deep brainwave patterns. To confirm the validity of these results, we have queried the other peacekeeper AIs currently in the area. The results of our analysis to date have prompted us to initiate this discussion.”

  “What sort of changes are you referring to?” Tom asked.

  Krish took up the explanation, gesticulating with her hands as if she was a completely real individual instead of an avatar for an advanced computer. “It is quite difficult to explain. Your biolinks give us access to the total electrical activity of your brains. These signals are very complex because your brain operates much like a parallel supercomputer. The thoughts we are able to clearly interpret are those you bring to the surface by actively thinking aloud about them. Everything else is part of what we refer to as the deep brainwave activity.”

  “This deep brainwave activity,” the Orion continued, “has an overall characteristic pattern to it that allows us to filter it out so we can properly analyze the surface thoughts we are meant to be listening to. The details of the deep pattern continually change and we’ve been able to use these changes to identify your emotional state of mind.”

  Tom’s attention was completely focused on the two avatars. Even though they had been created as different species, the two avatars were acting as if they were a single entity speaking through two bodies. He couldn’t help but draw a parallel between them and what it meant to be gragrakch.