by Allan, Jay
Cain had been giving two aides emphatic instructions, waving his arms as he did. The three of them stood over a large ‘pad displaying a section of the battlefield, but none of them was looking down. Cain stopped talking and held up his hand to his companions when he got Merrick’s communication. He waved the aides off and turned to face the new arrival. He frowned a little, though his helmet hid the expression. He was just Erik to Isaac Merrick most of the time, but in the field, the ex-army man insisted on formality. Cain knew Merrick was right, but he’d never been a stickler for military formality, and the older he got, the less use he had for any of it. He trusted Merrick and knew the new Marine would obey his orders…so he didn’t think it meant squat what they called each other.
“How bad?”
Merrick walked the rest of the way toward Cain, stopping about two meters away. “It’s heavy, but manageable. For now.”
“For now?” Cain’s tone sharpened. He liked subordinates to tell him everything upfront. He hated turning what should be a quick report into a protracted conversation.”
Merrick hesitated. “It’s nothing really, sir.” He paused again, not sure he should elaborate. “Just a feeling. My gut says they’re going to hit us hard…and soon.” He shifted his weight, clumsily stumbling in his armor as he did. “I don’t have any data to back it up. It’s just…” He stared right at Cain. “…I guess it’s what I would do, sir.”
“I wouldn’t call that nothing. It’s damned good thinking.” Cain smiled. “It’s what I’d do too, Isaac.”
“You’ve got the first wave of McDaniel’s people down. Should we move them up…strengthen the line?”
Cain sighed. “We haven’t seen a single Reaper since we landed, Isaac. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“Yes, but I just figured maybe they’d lost them all in the Line battles.” Suddenly Merrick felt foolish and naïve. They’d destroyed a lot of Reapers on Sandoval, but that was no basis to assume there were none left to face here. The enemy had never before kept them all hidden and used them for a truly massed attack, but, of course, Cain had done precisely that to them, something these forces would know about. The First Imperium’s tactics were weak and unimaginative, but there was nothing wrong with their ability to learn from human strategies. Again and again, human commanders had seen the enemy reuse their own tactics…and sometimes they’d been fooled by it.
But Erik Cain had no intention of being surprised. “I’m not releasing so much as a platoon from McDaniel’s force until those bastards show us some Reapers.” McDaniels commanded Cain’s answer to the heavy enemy units; all her people were equipped with the four meter tall Obliterator suits. Armed to the teeth, an Obliterator still wasn’t a one on one match for a Reaper – First Imperium technology was too advanced for that. But they were the closest thing Cain had to a counter for the enemy’s heavy forces. At least the Obliterators carried weapons heavy enough to damage a Reaper…normal powered infantry had a tough time bringing the enemy giants down. “That’s what this pressure is…they’re trying to get me to commit the Obliterators. It’s what I’d do to them.” Cain gritted his teeth. “But it’s not going to work.”
“Erik…” Merrick’s voice had gotten softer, and he’d fallen back to calling Cain by his first name.
“Yes, Isaac.” Cain could tell something was wrong. “What is it?”
“It’s Colonel Brown. And Captain Carlson.” Merrick had spent considerable time with the two refugees from Adelaide, and he’d come to like and respect them both. As had Cain. “Colonel Brown’s force is dead center in the enemy offensive. They couldn’t be in a worse spot.”
Cain let out a deep breath. Shit, he thought…it figures. He knew Brown and Carlson had needed to see his confidence in them, so he’d put them right into the line. But facing off against a massive First Imperium assault wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Merrick was standing quietly, clearly expecting him to do something, send some kind of relief. But Cain simply sighed again and said, “Brown and Carlson are Marines. They know their duty.”
Merrick was always surprised to see just how tough Cain could be in the field, how ice cold he was when he made his decisions. He didn’t argue…that would be insubordinate on the battlefield, and he knew he’d never change Cain’s mind anyway. “Yes, sir.”
Cain stood still, his mind drifting slowly across the field, silently reviewing his OB. He could almost hear Jax’s voice in his head, warning him, urging him to caution. “But let’s get one of Commander Farooq’s ortas on alert.” He paused, looking off over the rugged hills, in the general direction of the heaviest fighting. “Just in case.”
Chapter 17
Central Pavilion
Armstrong Spaceport
Armstrong - Gamma Pavonis III
“There are subtle differences on this Gremlin, Admiral Jacobs. It is not identical to the ships we have faced in other engagements.” That wouldn’t have been a particularly noteworthy statement if it had been made about an Alliance ship – or any human-built vessel. Ships were often slightly different from other members of their classes. Newer versions of weapons or other systems often replaced older ones on vessels coming out of the shipyards, and damaged ships frequently received replacement parts that differed from the original issue. But one of the noteworthy facts about First Imperium vessels was that, within their class, they were all identical. At least that had been the case until now.
“What does that mean?” Jacobs wasn’t following Sparks’ line of thinking, at least not completely. He’d been excited when Mondragon commed him and said he’d captured a First Imperium ship. Captured! Jacobs hadn’t even imagined that was possible. But something had malfunctioned on this particular vessel. It took one hit and apparently deactivated. It had been lying dead in space ever since.
“Every First Imperium vessel we have encountered prior to this one has had the exact same make up, equipment…everything. Exactly the same.” He paused, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t had much sleep, and the two system journey from Sigma 4 had been rough. The Torch transports were fast ships, but he wasn’t aware one had ever topped 50g acceleration before this last trip. Every inch of his body ached. “This one is different. Minor variations in dimensions and structural components. My preliminary analysis even suggests a slightly different density in the hull alloy.”
“So what can we determine from that? Is it tactically useful?” Jacobs knew what Sparks was saying, but he sounded doubtful that any practical information could come from it.
“It is very early to say, admiral.” Sparks was clearly excited at the discovery. “At the very least, I would say this vessel, and possibly its companions that Captain Mondragon destroyed, were constructed at a different facility or time than the ones we’ve previously faced.”
“So how do we use that?”
Sparks hesitated. “Well, to start with, I can think of a few possibilities you won’t like. First off, it would appear likely that we have tapped into a new pool of enemy strength. There is no question in my mind that this ship was not part of the force structure we have faced so far in this war. It may be a detached scout unit of some type, or…”
“Or the vanguard of an entirely new fleet, one of unknown strength.” Jacobs’ voice was grim; now he understood, and he was reviewing the possibilities himself. “We could have been facing a regional force before. We have no idea how large the First Imperium is or how much strength it has.” Sparks was right. He didn’t like it one bit.
“Yes, everything you say is a definite possibility.” Sparks was glancing down at his ‘pad, reading the data as it came in. “There are others as well. Certainly there could be an age difference. It is possible that the units we have been facing until now were constructed before this new specimen. We clearly seem to be encroaching on the frontier of the enemy’s dominion. It wouldn’t be surprising to encounter vessels more technologically advanced than those we have faced to date. We often deploy older ships to garrison quiet sectors, massing our newest
units in our main battlefleets. The enemy may do precisely the same thing. For all we know, we haven’t yet faced their real strength. The ships we have fought to date could be their older, obsolete vessels.” He shifted his weight and looked up at Jacobs. “Imagine if you were fighting us and you went from facing an old ship…say, Cambrai…and then you ended up fighting a Yorktown B. Now consider that we’ve been in space 150 years, and we have that kind of technology gap between active units. The First Imperium has been here for millennia.”
That last comment hit Jacobs like a sledgehammer. He immediately saw the logic of Spark’s conclusion, but the thought of fighting against even more powerful forces was overwhelming. More than overwhelming…it scared the hell out of him. If Sparks was right, the war was as good as over. As good as lost.
“Admiral Jacobs?” It was Hooper, calling him from the bridge.
“Yes, lieutenant?”
“The Seals are here, sir. They are requesting permission to dock.”
“Granted.” He put his hand to his ear, tightening his comlink. “Instruct them to land. We’ll meet them in the bay.” Turning toward Sparks: “The Seals are here. Let’s go.”
Jacobs had notified Compton immediately when Mondragon’s message arrived. His ships had engaged a flotilla of enemy Gremlins and captured one! Jacobs had read it three times before it sunk in. The Gremlin had taken a single hit from a plasma torpedo, and it just stopped dead in space. No thrust, no fire, no detectable energy output…nothing. It was a freak hit, most likely some bizarre damage that deactivated the entire ship’s control system…probably a one in a million event. And an unprecedented opportunity.
Compton immediately sent two Seal teams out to assist in taking the First Imperium vessel. Boarding of enemy warships was almost non-existent in space combat, but the Seals were the only ones with skills remotely suitable to such a crucial and dangerous mission. Trained to operate effectively in a vacuum, the Seals did as much rescue work as fighting…though they were among the best trained combat specialists the Alliance possessed.
Sparks tucked the ‘pad under his arm and nodded. He followed Jacobs out into the corridor and down to the landing bay. If all went well, in 12 hours Sparks would be aboard a ship of the First Imperium.
“Remember, we have no idea what to expect in there. Scanners can’t penetrate that godforsaken armor, and we’ve never been able to get an idea of the interior layout from the scraps that are left when they’re finally destroyed.” Sparks was lecturing the Seals, and they looked impatient, anxious to get going. He was familiar with the type. A lifetime spent trying to get Marines to sit still long enough to learn how to use the new weapons he built for them had prepared him perfectly for this.
There was a loud bang. Captain Walsh had slammed his fist down on the table. It the thing hadn’t been a nearly indestructible hydro polycarbonate polymer, Jacobs was sure it would have cracked down the center from the force of the blow.
“I expect everyone to be an expert on this material by the time we leave this room.” Walsh was the Seal commander. He’d have been a colonel, at least, if he’d switched over to the regular Marine units, but he insisted on staying with his team. “I swear to God I will shoot any one of you who tanks this mission because you weren’t prepared.” He scanned the room. “Understood?”
“Yes, captain!” Twenty men and four women snapped back the reply as one.
“Good.” He looked back at Sparks. “Please excuse my team, general.”
Sparks suppressed a laugh. Walsh was being insubordinate too, of course, even though his intentions were good. But Sparks knew that no veteran unit, and especially not a Special Forces team, was going to think of a research engineer as a real officer in the chain of command…despite the stars on his collars. And he didn’t care…he didn’t think of himself that way either. He’d spent his life equipping these men and women, giving them the tools they needed to fight – and survive – their wars. He had no use for pulling rank, not unless he really had to.
The ancient warriors who were the namesakes of these Seals had been a navy force, not Marines. Modern Seals were part of the Corps, having been named for their predecessors both out of respect and because of the vague similarity in their combat roles.
“Why don’t you continue, General Sparks?” Jacobs wanted to move things along, but he also took the chance to remind everyone of Sparks’ rank.
“Yes, admiral. Thank you.” He turned back toward the assembled Seals. “As I was saying, we don’t even know if there are corridors in that ship, and if there are, where they lead or how they are laid out. It would be wild speculation to assume the interior of a First Imperium vessel is in any way similar to those of our own.”
Sparks paused and looked out at the rows of seated men and women. “We don’t even know if these ships were built to allow for organic crews or passengers. You may find it is one giant machine, one that is almost impossible to navigate once you are inside. Even if there is room for you to get around, don’t forget the hull material is extremely hard and difficult to cut…and there is no way to know if interior structures will be any easier to manipulate.”
He paused for a few seconds. “You may have to blast or cut your way through in various places, and that’s going to take a lot of educated guessing.” Another pause. “Which is one of the reasons I am coming with you.”
There was a stir among the Seals, and even Jacobs sat with a stunned look on his face. Captain Walsh looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. This was Sparks’ call. Scientist or no, he was a Marine general, and Walsh and his team would follow his orders. The only other officer on Indianapolis of comparable rank was Jacobs, but he recognized this as Sparks’ area of command and stayed silent.
“Don’t look so surprised, gentlemen.” Sparks was mildly amused. He wondered, do they think developing and field testing things like x-ray lasers and Obliterators is safe? “We Marines do what we have to. All of us.” He turned and walked up to the workstation set up in the front of the room. “So let’s get back to reviewing what we do know about First Imperium vessels. If I’m going to be with you, you guys are damned well going to be prepared.”
The shapes moved slowly, at least they looked that way on the monitor. The Seal armor was bulkier than regular Marine gear, and that added to the illusion, making them seem slow and cumbersome to anyone watching. Designed for operations in deep space, the Seal suits were almost miniature ships. They carried tanks of highly compressed gas to power small maneuvering jets, allowing them to move around in space without tether lines.
Four of them were guiding a large mechanism toward the hull. It looked like a heavy plasma torch, but it was something different, something Sparks had just put together. The standard plasma torches weren’t strong enough to cut through a First Imperium hull, at least not quickly. The mission called for something more powerful, and Sparks had provided it.
The Seals guided Sparks’ creation toward the ship, using their AI-controlled gas jets to maintain their bearing. They slowed as they approached the hull, coming almost to a stop as the device glided the last few meters into place. They sprung into activity, affixing it securely with a series of powerful magnets.
Sparks’ invention was ingenious, simple but brilliant. A plasma torch was too weak to cut through the hull and a plasma torpedo would do significant damage to a target they were trying to keep intact. So the Marine engineer designed a compromise, basically a small plasma torpedo held in place by strong magnetic fields. Once activated, it would burn through the hull with the power of a plasma torpedo, but the fields would hold it in place and prevent it from penetrating deeper into the ship. If it worked, it would bore a 3 meter-wide hole in the hull of the enemy vessel.
With no accurate scanner readings, Sparks didn’t know if there would be atmosphere inside or vacuum, and there was significant danger of explosive decompression. He sat patiently in the shuttle, waiting for the Seals to finish emplacing the weapon and get back before he bl
ew the charge. The Seals had urged him to activate the mine as soon as they were clear, but he thought it was too risky with anyone still out in space, so he waited until they made it all the way back.
“All personnel are secured, General Sparks.” It was Captain Walsh on the com. He’d been outside with his people, but now they were all back in the assault shuttle’s bay.
“Very well, captain. Detonation in one minute.” Sparks flipped open a small cover on his control panel, exposing the activation button for the charge. “Have your people ready to go in five minutes, captain.” Sparks didn’t want anyone rushing in right after the charge went off…the area would need a few minutes to cool before it was safe. Safe being a relative term, of course.
He watched the chronometer count down, the large blue numbers dropping below 30, then 20…finally 10. “Detonation imminent.” He made the announcement on the shipwide com, and a few seconds later he pushed the button.
Ten kilometers away, a small, unimaginably hot plasma flared to life. Most material substances, including the armor on any human warship ever built, would have instantly vaporized and turned to plasma themselves. But the mysterious First Imperium alloy resisted…for the merest fraction of a second, but long enough for Sparks’ instruments to record it. Long enough to challenge half the laws of physics that the human sciences were based upon. But scientific study would have to wait. Sparks’ ingenious plasma charge had worked exactly as he’d intended, blowing a nearly perfect 3 meter hole in the enemy vessel’s hull.
Sparks hit a second button, triggering a series of small charges positioned along the structure of his device, and the cradle, the still raging plasma suspended within its magnetic fields, blasted away from the hull and into space.
The display was showing a close up view transmitted from a series of drones Sparks had positioned around the enemy ship. He smiled as he stared right at the perfectly round, 3-meter hole his device had neatly drilled through the hull. It was time to go in.
