Peacekeeper 2

by Doug Farren

  Krish took up the narrative. “Besides these identifiable changes, there are even deeper harmonics that remain constant. These very deep patterns will change over long periods of time and they define who you are as a person. They are unique from individual to individual. Your deep pattern have been changing faster than normal.”

  “Are you concerned about this?” Lashpa asked.

  “We were at first,” Orion replied. “But after consulting with the other AIs we’ve come to the conclusion that there are certain circumstances that alter these deep patterns faster than expected. Extreme emotional events such as losing a loved one or falling in love can cause a shift in the pattern.”

  “Because you have given us access to both of your biolinks,” Krish said, “Orion and I have exchanged the data that allows us to interpret your thoughts. This has also allowed us to compare your two deep brainwave patterns. Initially they were both closely related yet different enough to be easily distinguished.”

  Tom was getting a very strange feeling that he knew exactly where this discussion was headed. Glancing at Lashpa, he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

  “And now?” he asked.

  “Your two patterns have been changing in such a way as to bring them more in sync with each other.”

  “Two bodies, one soul!” Lashpa exclaimed.

  “The deep patterns are very difficult to analyze,” Orion said. “Krish and I have separately performed a fifth-order statistical analysis of the pattern shift and we have concluded there is an 87.12% probability that your individual patterns will become indistinguishable from each other at some time in the future. Because of this conclusion we decided to- - -”

  “Proof of gragrakch!” Tom interrupted.

  “That is a possible although unprovable conclusion,” Krish said. “More data is needed. We would like your permission to make this data available to all peacekeeper AIs, so additional biolink data can be incorporated into a much broader study.”

  “Yes!” Tom and Lashpa simultaneously replied.

  “This is exciting news!” Lashpa said, her tail vibrating with excitement. “I must inform our central genealogical archives of this.”

  “I suggest you … standby.” There was a slight pause before Krish said, “We’ve received orders to begin missile deployment. Details are being received now.”

  “Proceed,” Tom ordered.

  “Acknowledged,” both ships replied.

  “Tom, this is unbelievable news!” Lashpa said. “We’ve been searching for a way to locate our grakch for centuries. Now we have a way of doing so.”

  “Hold on there!” Tom said, standing up. “The only way our ships discovered this is because of our biolink implants. They can pick up on the tiniest electrical activity in our brains. External sensing technology is far less accurate. For your plan to work, everyone would have to be fitted with a biolink.”

  “Still,” she said, “It’s an exciting breakthrough. We may have actual proof of gragrakch.”

  “It is not conclusive,” Krish said. “I would suggest waiting to share this information with the central genealogical archives until we have gathered more data.”

  “You might be right,” Lashpa admitted. “Tom, I’ll talk to you after the Chroniech battleship is destroyed.”

  Tom put a hand on Lashpa’s jaw. Even though he knew she wasn’t really there, it still felt good to do so. “Stay safe.”

  “You as well.”

  The pleasant scene quickly faded as the Orion’s AI relinquished its control over Tom’s cybernetics. He felt a thump as the densely-packed instruments of his control center came into view. A quick glance at his console told him the ship had latched onto the defense station that had been dropped off hours earlier.

  The station was an armored sphere 45 meters in diameter, built for one purpose—to destroy enemy ships. It was armed with a single huge energy cannon and two missile launchers. A large fusion reactor powered everything. It had no propulsion system other than what was required to point its gun toward the enemy.

  After ensuring the station was firmly locked, the Orion’s AI activated its sublight drive and began accelerating. Data from the Komodo Dragon now allowed for a more precise positioning of the fleet and they were quickly moving to the new location. A few minutes of high acceleration would be all that was required.

  Tom watched his instruments as the ship began to accelerate then abruptly stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” he quickly asked.

  “New orders,” the ship replied. “The battleship is changing course. We’ve been ordered to abort missile deployment.”

  “Changed course? To where?”

  “Unknown at this time.”

  Chapter 51

  “Commander!” Lieutenant Dejan broke the silence of the bridge. “The battleship is changing course.”

  “What!” Commander Stiles leaned forward and tapped out a command on his console. The tactical data appeared on his central monitor. The shifting numbers indicated that the battleship was making a tight turn. At 3,000 times the speed of light though, ‘tight’ meant that the ship was traveling along a circle with a radius measured in millions of kilometers.

  “What are you doing?” Stiles muttered. “Helm, match his course. Stay with him.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  Several minutes passed as the numbers indicating the battleship’s directional vector as given by its galactic coordinates, continued to slowly change.

  “Looks like they’re turning around,” Dejan announced.

  “Coms, inform command of the change,” Stiles ordered.

  “Course change complete,” Dejan said as the numbers settled out. “He’s accelerating.”

  “They’re going back to Torth!” Petty Officer First Class Leonard Uriasz yelled from the helm.

  Stiles cursed under his breath. “The population was given the all-clear to return to their homes hours ago,” he said. “How long before they get there?”

  “About ten and a half hours Sir,” Lieutenant Dejan quickly replied.

  “Should I wake the Captain?” Gerry Walters, manning the communications console, asked.

  “No,” Stiles said, standing up. He continued talking as he walked over to the communications console. “Gerry, get a message off to Torth. Tell them to get their people back away from the cities. Boost the signal as fast as you can without burning out the transmitter.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  Turning his head, Stiles said, “Neven, how many ships are still at Torth?”

  Lieutenant Dejan queried his console. “Twelve Sir. The others were ordered to follow the battleship, staying well outside of sensor range.”

  Stiles put his hand over his mouth and pulled it down to wipe away the sweat that had formed on his upper lip. He considered sending the ships a message but there was nothing they could do. Even if they could return to Torth in time to intercept the battleship, they would certainly be destroyed. Eight and a half million people were about to be murdered and the only thing he could do was watch.

  “Coms! Send command a priority message. Tell them I want permission to engage and destroy the battleship at all cost.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Stiles returned to the command chair but found he couldn’t sit still. He got up, paced the bridge for a moment, then sat back down. This process was repeated for almost an hour.

  “Command has replied Captain,” Walters announced. “It’s a video.”

  That in itself was unusual. Official communications from command were usually in compressed text format.

  “Main screen,” Stiles ordered.

  The main screen at the front of the bridge switched from its normal tactical and internal status summary to show the image of a Shandarian fleet admiral.

  “I am Fleet Admiral Nerat Huth. Your request to engage the Chroniech battleship is denied. Under no circumstances are you to engage unless ordered to do so by command. You are to confirm receipt of this message and acknowledge com
pliance.”

  The admiral paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then said, “Your request sparked a rather heated discussion among the senior staff. This was not an easy decision for us to make and we realize that carrying out this order will be even harder. The Komodo Dragon, however, must not be lost. You are to play a key roll in our plans to destroy the battleship. If the Dragon is lost, those plans will have to be scrapped and even more civilians will lose their lives. I cannot stress this enough—under no circumstances are you to engage the Chroniech until we tell you to do so. Captain Scarboro is required to acknowledge this message. Command out.”

  The bridge crew sat in stunned silence. The orders from fleet command were the equivalent of ordering the deaths of millions of civilians.

  “Wake the Captain,” Stiles whispered.

  * * * * *

  “Coms, mute all incoming transmissions except any coded as coming from command,” Scarboro ordered.

  “Aye Sir,” Owens replied.

  Scarboro had not bothered to go back to bed. He’d been furious when he heard about the message Stiles sent to command and even more so after listening to their response. The Commander had received the brunt of his wrath which was quickly retracted as Scarboro slowly came to the realization that the order from command was the only one they could have given. Most of the night shift had tried to stick around after being relieved but Scarboro ordered them off the bridge. He was certain none of them were asleep.

  “Tactical, restrict all sensor data to the bridge.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Turning his chair around, Scarboro looked at the marine standing near the door and said, “Corporal, access to the bridge is prohibited.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Turning back around, he raised his voice to address the crew. “This is not going to be easy for any of us. We have a duty to record this event and we will do so to the best of our ability. We all know what is about to happen and if anyone prefers not to be here you should leave now.”

  Scarboro paused and looked around. Nobody took him up on his offer. “Very well then. Helm, back us away from the battleship to a distance of 200,000 kilometers. Drop to normal when they do and maintain a monitoring position.”

  As they approached Torth, Scarboro watched in shocked surprise as the 12 remaining ships left the area. A quick query of the ship’s computer told him why. He had assumed they would make a suicidal attempt to engage the enemy but fleet command ordered them not to engage. They would be needed to search for any survivors as soon as possible after the Chroniech left.

  The battleship dropped into normal space and slowly approached the abandoned base. The remaining defense stations didn’t bother to hide and were eliminated before able to fire a single shot. Wary of surprises, the battleship took its time, intensely scanning the path ahead. At a distance of 110,000 kilometers, the Kyrra antimatter cannon targeted the base. The shield offered virtually no protection and within seconds it was gone.

  A pale, ghostly blue finger with a white-hot tip wandered across the surface of the base obliterating everything it touched. For five minutes, the hellish beam from a weapon built by an incredibly ancient race slowly passed back and forth over a wide area. When it finally winked out, the crew of the Dragon could still see an expanse of white-hot glowing liquid through the thick layer of dust and ash that hung over the area.

  The battleship then turned and headed for the planet.

  “Please no!” Senior Chief Ivy Thais said from the engineering station.

  Scarboro looked over and saw that she was shaking, crying silently, her face buried in her hands. “Chief?” he asked, keeping his voice low, as if speaking any louder wasn’t allowed.

  After a loud sniff, she replied, “I’m okay, Sir.”

  Scarboro looked around the bridge. The tension and despair was evident in everyone’s faces. Scarboro felt numb, as if his brain had become an unfeeling machine.

  Following the now familiar pattern, the battleship destroyed everything within range as it approached the planet. Scarboro waited. He was expecting Torth’s surface-based planetary defense systems to engage the battleship at any moment. But as the ship continued to move closer, nothing happened.

  “Lieutenant, I thought Torth had at least 10 large defense installations on the surface.”

  Turning to his tactical console, Billings entered a command and looked at the results. “They do Sir. Eleven to be exact. I’ve scanned the visible installations and I can’t detect any energy readings at all.”

  Turning around in his chair, Owens said, “I’m not detecting any transmissions either. It’s as if the entire planet has gone silent.”

  “That will make it harder for the Chroniech to locate small towns but they’ll still be able to find the cities once they reach orbit,” Billings said. “I would have left the defense stations on automatic.”

  “It would make it far easier for them to identify a heavily populated area,” Scarboro pointed out. “Maybe they had the right idea.”

  As the battleship moved to within 1,000 kilometers, Billings suddenly shot up out of his chair. “High energy readings coming over the horizon!” he shouted. “It’s a fully-powered defense station!”

  “They must have kept them powered down until the last minute then waited until the planet shielded their emissions from the battleship,” Thais added.

  A tremendously powerful bolt of energy stabbed through the atmosphere. The superheated air glowed as if a perfectly straight bolt of lightning had just passed through it. The beam hit the Chroniech shield, generating a torrent of reflected energy. The battleship instantly responded with two beams of its own.

  A second defense station came over the horizon and immediately opened fire. Because of the extreme angle, a good portion of the energy of all the weapons was dissipated in the atmosphere. But planetary weapon systems were far larger and more powerful than virtually any ship-based counterpart. The battleship’s shield, strong as it was, began to leak.

  The rest of the battleship’s weapons opened fire as six ultra-fast missiles streaked toward the closest target. Four of the missiles were intercepted but two of them got through. Twin nuclear flashes marked their detonation. This was followed by a visible shock wave and mushroom cloud as 20 megatons of thermonuclear force obliterated the first defense station. The battleship’s beam weapons switched targets and a few seconds later the second station fell.

  “They had to have taken some damage,” Owens remarked.

  “Agreed,” Billings replied. “Their shield was showing evidence of having reached overload but there’s no way for us to ascertain the amount of damage they may have sustained. They- - -” Billings interrupted himself as he noticed something on his panel. A moment later he said, “The battleship is moving away from the planet, assuming a higher orbit. Several probes have been launched.”

  “They’ll send the probes close to the surface and ahead of them to locate the radiation from the defense station fusion reactors,” Scarboro said. “Even if they’re still shut down there will be some residual radiation.”

  The Chroniech quickly moved away from the planet until it was almost 20,000 kilometers from the surface. Over the next three hours, the Dragon observed multiple strikes against the planet. On five occasions the defense stations attacked first but this time their energy was insufficient to breach the battleship’s shield.

  Following the destruction of the last defense station, the battleship returned to a lower orbit. The ship pointed the array of pyramid-shaped Kyrra-built matter converters at the surface and turned them on. A flaming column of unbelievable death and destruction appeared, converting the land directly beneath the fast-moving vessel into a lake of molten rock. Every flammable object within 600 kilometers of the center of that hellish inferno burst into flames. Deadly gamma radiation converted the once pure air into a deadly chemical soup that would eventually poison the entire planet.

  The battleship’s two main energy cannons drew lines of destruc
tion along either side of the ship’s path. The weapons weren’t aiming for any particular target but were simply left pointing down and out to add to the terrible destruction. The battleship remained in orbit for 13 hours. It left behind a planet barely able to sustain life. There was no doubt in the mind of those who had been watching, that the death toll was in the millions. The crew of the battleship celebrated, while that of the Komodo Dragon mourned.

  Chapter 52

  Once again, the Orion shuddered as it latched onto the quiescent defense station. Tom grabbed a Reuben as the ship accelerated, heading for their assigned deployment position. Pulling his spacesuit out of the locker, he carried it in one hand down the passageway, his other holding his sandwich. Seconds later, he hung the suit on a peg just inside the hatch to the command center and settled into the chair.

  “Message from fleet command,” the ship announced.

  “Display.”

  Tom’s central monitor came to life.

  “I am Fleet Admiral Nerat Huth,” the Shandarian officer began. “This message is going out to all ships involved in the defense of Kree’a-Thera. I cannot express how important it is for you to succeed. The lives of hundreds of millions of people are at stake, not only on Kree’a-Thera but on the planets that lie beyond as well. The Chroniech battleship must be stopped at all costs. There are many peacekeepers involved in this operation. Your ships are not warships but they are the only type of vessel capable of carrying out this mission. Many will lose their lives today. I want to extend my personal thanks to each and every one of you. Good luck. Fleet command out.”

  Lashpa’s face popped onto his central monitor as the image of the admiral was still fading away. “Good luck Tom,” she said.

  “Good luck to you as well,” he replied. There was a moment of silence while they both looked at each other. No words needed to be spoken. Each knew that this might be the last time they saw the other. One or both of them could easily be killed during the coming battle.

  Lashpa tilted her head to one side then dipped it in a nod. “Establishing communications silence.”