Deathtrap

by Craig Alanson

  Heads were nodding around the Dodo’s main cabin. Derek spoke first. “Good strategy. We will be giving this Dodo back at the end of this assignment, and we can’t hide Elder tech among our personal gear. The Ruhar will scan everything we bring aboard the Warshon. We got lucky they were too busy to perform a deep scan of this ship after the rescue op.”

  There was a moment of silence before Dave asked the question that was on everyone’s minds. “Ma’am,” it still felt awkward to address her so formally. “What’s the plan?” He knew Emily well enough to know she had a plan in mind. “What are we hoping to trade the power tap for?”

  All the excitement drained away from Perkins’ face and became a mask of determination. “For the only thing that really matters to us.”

  Jesse looked at Dave before speaking. “What is that?”

  Perkins took a deep breath. “A recon mission to Earth.”

  An hour later, with the Dodo coasting toward their next assigned asteroid, Dave parted the thick curtain that separated the sleeping quarters for himself and the team’s leader. The space was only big enough for two seats laid flat and a cubby for personal items, but the curtains provided good sound insulation and gave a sense of privacy in the dropship’s main cabin. Jesse and Shauna had their own quarters on the other side of the cabin, while the pilots had set up a bed along the aft bulkhead of the cockpit. Dave envied the pilots, because they had a real door they could close.

  A real door provided the luxury of real privacy. Real privacy meant couples could do things that couples did. Things that Emily Perkins was not comfortable doing behind a curtain, with her team only a few feet away. Aboard the Warshon, Perkins had real quarters with a locking door and a full bathroom. Their haste to leave Nert behind had meant the Dodo was only docked with the cruiser for three hours, barely long enough for a debriefing and a decent shower before the pilots released the docking clamps and accelerated away. Before Jesse explained why they were in such a hurry, Dave had been supremely pissed at his friend for depriving him of a couple hours- Hell, even one freakin’ hour, of time alone with Emily.

  Knowing the reason, a good reason, for the haste, did not make Dave any less unhappy. The Elder power tap was truly priceless. It could also have waited another hour.

  “Em?” He used his private name for the team leader.

  “Dave,” she replied softly, looking up from her tablet. She was sitting cross-legged on the seats that were laid flat and stretched out to form a bed. In the zero gravity, she had a belt latched loosely around her waist, so she didn’t float away. Zero gees also caused her hair to drift in all directions, she had her hair tucked into a loose bun that still had strands sticking out haphazardly. Another effect of not having artificial gravity aboard the dropship was that blood, which normally pooled in the legs, was distributed evenly and made everyone’s face puffy. Emily was self-conscious about her bloated face, even though it was hardly noticeable to anyone but her.

  Dave thought she looked beautiful.

  “You need to drink that,” he admonished her, pointing to a squeeze bottle of water and electrolytes. In zero gravity, the human body thought it contained too much water, and wanted to pee it away. Dropship crews needed to replenish the fluids, even though they might not feel thirsty.

  “Yes, Mom,” she rolled her eyes and took a swig of water. Lowering her voice and beckoning him to sit on the bed and close the curtain, she asked “How are the others feeling about this?”

  “Em, we’re the ‘others’. Jesse and Shauna had time to think about this before they told us.”

  “Ok. How about our intrepid pilots?”

  Dave snorted. “They are officers. They don’t confide in me. Besides, they have the cockpit door closed.”

  “How are you feeling about it, then?” She reached out to take his hand, and tugged him to float down next to her. To keep him from drifting away, she threw a leg over his waist. Dave liked that.

  “I want to know your endgame. The Ruhar can’t send a recon ship to Earth, so you must be planning to deal with the Jeraptha?”

  “Yes, and-”

  “A recon mission is worthless, so that’s bullshit. You’re not planning just a recon. You want the beetles to rescue Earth.”

  She shrugged, an action that pushed her away from the bed. Dave pulled her against his chest. “We know the White Wind clan was operating on a shoestring budget by the time their last ship left Earth to supply UNEF on Paradise. The Ruhar think the White Wind had only two ships at Earth when the wormhole went dormant, or whatever happened to it.” She frowned at that last thought. The Ruhar still had no idea why Earth’s local wormhole shut down, and apparently the Jeraptha, even the mighty Rindhalu were mystified by the event. To the knowledge of the Ruhar, a single wormhole had never gone dormant before. Wormholes activated and shut down and changed connections in groups, during a shift that affected entire sectors of the galaxy. No one had any idea what happened.

  Unless the Ruhar were lying to her, or their patrons were concealing the truth from them.

  No, she reminded herself. She had considered the subject many times before, and it made no sense that any species, who had the incredible technology to control Elder wormholes, would waste that ability on poor little backward Earth. Even the senior species of the galaxy did not understand the behavior of the Elder wormhole network, and that frightened her more than the thought that Earth’s wormhole had been shut down deliberately. There were rumors, whispered about by the Ruhar, that other wormholes in the Orion Arm had been acting strangely in the past few years, and that the senior species were concerned enough to investigate.

  Dave lifted an eyebrow. “How do the hamsters know how many ships the White Wind had parked in Earth orbit?”

  “Because the Kristang told them, when the Kristang were trying to get the Ruhar to negotiate a ride to Earth.”

  “Whaaaat?” Dave gasped. “Why would the Ruhar make a deal with-”

  “Shhhh,” she put a finger to his lips, and explained what she had heard, in a confidential briefing at UNEF HQ on Paradise. “The deal never happened, because the Kristang fell into a civil war before they could live up to their end of the bargain. UNEF HQ was worried that humans on Paradise would take it badly if they heard there was almost a deal for the Jeraptha to send a ship to Earth.”

  “Ya think? Sorry,” he added. “Shit. Why couldn’t the fucking lizards have delayed their civil war another couple months?”

  “It would likely have been a year or more before the Jeraptha had a ship ready,” she stroked his hair. “The Ruhar think the deal might have triggered the Kristang civil war.” She was not going to tell Dave about the rumor that a Thuranin surveyor ship had been lost on the way to Earth.

  “Whatever,” he ground his teeth. “Now you think we can trade an Elder trinket to the beetles, for a ride to Earth? The Jeraptha are fighting back hard against the Thuranin and Bosphuraq. What makes you think the beetles will be interested in a deal?”

  “Because the type of long-range ship that is needed for a round-trip mission to Earth, is not of much use in the war. Sending one or two long-range ships to Earth will not detract from the war effort. It will just be expensive, very expensive. But, Dave,” she pulled him close and kissed him. “Think about it. Even a single lightly-armed Jeraptha ship could wipe out the Kristang at Earth. We could rescue our home planet, even if you and I never get back home. That’s worth trying. We have to try.”

  “Hey, Em,” he cradled her chin in one hand, and wiped away a tear that clung to her eyelashes in the zero gravity. “Whatever you need me to do, you know you’ve got my support.”

  “I know.”

  “What I worry about is, even if we can go home, it won’t be home, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He paused to organize his jumbled thoughts. “When I think of home, I think of before Columbus Day. That world, when were alone in the galaxy, that’s gone now, forever. Even if the Jeraptha kick the lizards off Earth
, every human there is going to flinch every time they see a light in the sky, you know? It will never be the home we remember.”

  “Even if,” she tried to brighten his dark mood, “there is still decent pizza in Milwaukee?”

  “Aw, well,” he grinned, “in that case, maybe. Damn, I would like to show you what real good pizza is like.”

  “I’d like that,” her fingers tap-danced down his chest and across his stomach. “Is there anything else you would like to show me, right now?”

  Dave squinted at her. “You serious?” He whispered while nibbling her earlobe.

  “Where are Shauna and Jesse?”

  “In their quarters. I heard ‘Pone snoring.”

  “Then I am serious, if you want to?”

  “If I want to?”

  “We need to be quiet,” she tapped his nose with a fingertip. “Real quiet.”

  “Hey,” he began unbuttoning her top. “I am not the loud one.”

  Admiral Tashallo knew he had to take big risks to entice the Central Wagering Office into giving odds worth acting on. The action he proposed was worth risking the loss of the Mighty 98th, for if successful, it held the prospect of halting the current combined Bosphuraq/Thuranin offensive that had the Jeraptha fleet on the defensive. If Tashallo were successful, the enemy would not only have to at least temporarily pull their forces back to regroup, they would also have to rethink their entire strategy. What the 98th would be attempting was to cut a vital supply line that supported the enemy offensive across half the sector.

  “Admiral,” Captain Dahmen of the I Am Aching To Give Somebody A Beat-Down And Today Is YOUR Lucky Day leaned over the railing of the holographic tactical display tank, taking in the animated plan of attack. “This is certainly a target-rich environment.” The captain’s tone of voice left open the possibility that he was admiring the admiral’s daring, or questioning his commanding officer’s sanity. Target-rich was an understatement. The proposed attack would take the Mighty 98th into a major enemy forward staging base, where Tashallo’s ships could encounter stealthed strategic defense platforms, hunter-killer satellites and enough ship to have three times the striking power of the attackers. Finding plenty of targets for the 98th’s big guns could be a good thing. Finding plenty of targets because the Jeraptha ships were surrounded was, in the dry language of the Home Fleet, a less than optimal situation. “The defenses around their key facilities are,” Dahmen sought a word that would not imply he was frightened or in any way less than enthusiastic about the admiral’s latest obsession. “Formidable.”

  Tashallo did not lift his gaze away from the attack animation running in the holo tank. Jeraptha ships were scoring successes, and also the holographic ships were blinking red as they were crippled by enemy fire, or winking out entirely as they exploded. His mandibles dropped as he watched the destruction of the 98th. The attack planners of the 98th had no imagination, he saw. He needed to give them guidance and inspiration. “A formidable risk yields formidable results, Dahmen.”

  Dahmen sidestepped until he was standing next to Tashallo, and lowered his voice. The bridge crew conspicuously turned away and did not pay attention to what the senior officers were discussing, while the antennas the Jeraptha used for hearing twitched. “Admiral, it is not fair that your success in defending the Glark system has left you unable to-”

  “Dahmen,” Tashallo did not lift his attention away from watching the attack simulation. “Somewhere in your inspiring speech, I sense a ‘however’? You were going to say something to the effect that, just because I am unable to obtain decent wagering action, that does not justify me risking the entire 98th. Is that what you were going to say?”

  Dahmen smiled sheepishly. “Admiral, when you can predict the future like that, you should not be surprised that no one is willing to wager against you.”

  Tashallo snorted. “Dahmen, the problem is that you are too predictable. Like,” he waved a claw-tipped arm to pause the simulation, “the planners of this attack scenario. They cannot see a way for us to win this battle.”

  Dahmen had personally reviewed the attack scenarios, before the top six plans were shown to the admiral. He felt a responsibility to defend the people who had worked long and hard to create the simulations. “These are the six scenarios that were most likely to succeed, and-”

  “None of these attacks are successful, Captain. They all cause substantial damage to the enemy, at the cost of the 98th being chopped up and destroyed.”

  Dahmen stiffened, his main antennas sweeping back. The captain had worked with Tashallo for years, worked very well. Still, sometimes the admiral could be very difficult to work for. “The facts cannot be-”

  Tashallo sighed, then looked to his battleship captain with almost fatherly affection. “My frustration is not with you, Dahmen, nor with our planning staff. It is my fault that they lack the imagination to see the outcome can be altered, merely by changing the facts.”

  “What facts are these?”

  “I have developed my own attack plans, Captain. You will see them shortly, after I am satisfied with the results.”

  “I wait impatiently to see plans that, hopefully, do not result in the loss of every ship under your command?”

  “No. You can be assured the 98th will not be thrown away to satisfy an old man’s personal grievances. Fleet Headquarters had to review and approve this operation, and they did give approval.”

  “Pardon me, Admiral, but the Home Fleet believes you know something you did not tell them. That belief is baked into the odds given this operation by the Central Wagering Office. Assuming you do have some secret advantage you have not told anyone about, then why did you have the planning staff work feverishly for days to develop plans you would discard?”

  “I did not know all their plans would fail, Dahmen. Besides, it was good practice for them, and it allows me to evaluate the resourcefulness and efficiency of the Fleet’s staff officers. As admiral, I am responsible not only for this Fleet’s current operations. I must also train our next generation of leaders. By comparing my success plans with their failures, they will learn valuable lessons. They will learn how to think, Dahmen, how to stretch their imaginations. Our tactics have become fossilized and inflexible.”

  “Our tactics have been developed over thousands of years, Admiral. They are based on what experience has taught us works, and what does not work.”

  “Exactly. Our future plans are based on what has worked in the past. Such thinking always has us refighting the last battle, Dahmen. Did you see my request to pull support ships from the Fleet Ready Reserve?”

  Dahmen reared his head back at the completely unexpected question. “Yes. I was going to speak with you about that. The Fleet Reserve office has tentatively approved your request, however,” he smiled at hearing that word come out of his mouth. “many of those ships were in the ‘Ready’ part of the Reserve only in theory. They are in poor condition and are not actually flightworthy. The Reserve office was extremely unhappy about having to admit that fact. Also, Sir, forty-two ships? What will we do with so many support units? The 98th just completed major servicing and work-ups, our ships are fully ready.”

  “Those ships do not need to fly far, Dahmen. My plan only requires thirty ships, I asked for forty-two in case those bastards at the Reserve office were stingy with their precious ships.”

  “Other than being embarrassed at having to admit the true status of their ships, I got the impression they are relieved you will take them away, where they will be our problem.” Dahmen kept his tone neutral, though he knew the work of getting old junk ships up to readiness would become his responsibility.

  “My request specifically was for old, obsolete ships for a reason, Dahmen. Those ships will, regrettably, not be returning to the Ready Reserves following the battle.”

  “They will not?” Dahmen ground his mandibles together, imagining the agonizing task of explaining to the Reserve office what had become of their precious junk ships. He knew the jun
k ships would be carried on the official register as fully flight-ready.

  “No,” Tashallo waved a claw and blanked out the holographic display, then manipulated the system to pull up the first of his own attack plans. “Observe and learn, Dahmen.” He dipped one of the small antennas above one eye in a slow wink. “The old man is not so crazy as you think.”

  Admiral Tashallo had two advantages. He had an inventive, clever and curious mind that many of his peers lacked. That characteristic was well-known across the Home Fleet, even if it was not appreciated by those of lesser talents. His second advantage was known to only a few. Some of those few had been sworn to secrecy. Some others had forgotten they ever knew a secret.

  That secret was why Tashallo had chosen Nubrentia as a target, over the objections of his planning staff, who suggested other, much easier targets.

  The Nubrentia star system was a key target of the combined Bosphuraq/Thuranin offensive. It was not the first target, for the Bosphuraq wanted the Jeraptha to be busy defending territory elsewhere in the sector before the operation to capture Nubrentia was launched.

  The Nubrentia system was based around a very ordinary red dwarf star. It had only one inner rocky planet, a smallish asteroid belt poor in valuable minerals, two gas giants and a couple balls of ice that were basically oversized comets. The two gas giants were the secondary reason the Bosphuraq were eager to capture Nubrentia. The main reason was, like the first rule of real estate, location, location, location. The star was fortunate to be located midway between two strategically-important wormholes. Controlling one or the other of those wormholes would allow Bosphuraq ships to range far and wide across Jeraptha space, opening up valuable territory and forcing the Jeraptha into a defensive posture. Ownership of Nubrentia gave the Bosphuraq, and their rather reluctant and definitely temporary allies the Thuranin, a convenient staging and refueling base in the heart of Jeraptha space.