The Knife's Edge (War Eternal Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  "Okay, I'll do it. Just answer a question for me first."

  "Okay. Shoot."

  "You can come across pretty uptight sometimes. Why so warm and fuzzy right now?"

  "Singh gave Origin a schematic for a compound that enhances focus, concentration, and reaction times. Inhibition is a side effect."

  Mitchell clenched his teeth. "A chemical compound?"

  "Yes, sir. Origin thought it would help us perform our duties better."

  "I see. What do you think?"

  "I agree, sir. My mind is sharp as the Knife. I feel damn calm. Almost disconnected."

  Mitchell took the bottle, bringing it back and swinging hard. It shattered against the side of the ship, right above the 'y' in Valkyrie. He knew Singh had a thing for drugs. He didn't need her getting the entire crew addicted, even if the effects were helpful.

  He was about to do something about it when he felt the shift that signaled their drop from hyperspace. He didn't have his p-rat, but he had checked the time when he woke up.

  They had dropped early.

  Why?

  15

  It was probably for his sake that the warning klaxons began blaring a few seconds later. It wasn't like anyone with a p-rat needed them.

  "What the hell is going on?" Long said.

  "I was hoping you could tell me."

  His eyes shifted. "Origin picked up signs of a Tetron in the slipstream. We dropped ahead of schedule so we wouldn't come out right on top of it."

  "What's a Tetron doing out here? I thought they didn't know where the Knife lived?"

  Major Long's face was stone. "There's only one immediately reasonable explanation."

  Mitchell nodded. Someone on board had sent them the coordinates. But who? And how could they without Origin noticing? It seemed impossible though it didn't seem to be. How else could they have known where the Goliath was going?

  "A single Tetron, or does it have a slave force?"

  "Slaves," Long said. "Admiral says get to your fighter asap."

  "I can't fly it," Mitchell said. "The helmet is tuned to Alvarez."

  "She said Origin reset it two days ago. Go."

  Mitchell was running towards the corner of the hangar before Long finished speaking. He glanced back to see the Major climbing aboard the Valkyrie II. He hoped she wasn't planning on sending their freshly christened dropship out into the thick of it, energy weapon or not

  He smiled as he reached the S-17. He would rather be in a starfighter than a mech any day. The lifters began to extend as he neared it, and he climbed them in a hurry, pausing just long enough to grab the helmet and drop it onto his head.

  The world came alive for him again in an instant, the circuitry of the advanced Tetron tech an improved substitute for his burned out ARR. He brought the fighter online with a thought, feeling it shiver slightly as the engines powered up. A three-dimensional overlay of the area around the fighter came into view. He found the Tetron further out, sitting close to the moon Asimov was orbiting. It was still on the far side, moving in their direction.

  The AI picked out the rest of the enemy force: a pair of Federation cruisers and a swarm of Kips. This Tetron had been into Federation territory to gather its fleet.

  "Colonel Williams." Millie's voice cut into his head. "Nice to have you back online."

  "Thank you, ma'am," Mitchell replied. "And thank you for getting me my fighter back. I imagine Captain Alvarez wasn't keen to give it up."

  "She knew it was a loaner. Get out there."

  The hangar doors were opening in front of him, the air rushing out of the Goliath. Mitchell cleared the magnetic locks with a thought, letting the depressurization pull the fighter out into space.

  "How did Origin know there was a Tetron here?" he asked as he fired his thrusters and headed towards the approaching enemy.

  He was all alone out there, the rest of their fighters destroyed above Liberty. He was a single small flea against a rabid dog.

  A small flea with a big bite.

  "Concentrate on the smaller ships. I'll keep the Tetron busy. Origin thinks that if we can take out the human force it might decide to run and call for reinforcements."

  "Afraid of us?" Mitchell asked.

  "It probably knows you already destroyed two of them. I would think they would learn to be a little more cautious."

  "Let's hope so."

  The Kips were becoming visible in the distance, glints of light reflecting off their metal hulls. There was nothing elegant about the ships. They were utilitarian in design, function over form, wedge-shaped and simple. They weren't the most advanced tech in the Federation fleet, and they would never have charged headlong towards Goliath if they had any control over themselves.

  Mitchell dropped as a stream of laser fire lanced out towards him, the invisible bolts made visible by the helmet. He took a few hits on his shields and avoided the rest, firing thrusters to bounce away and throwing the S-17 into a tight roll.

  The Kips drew nearer, and he opened fire.

  Projectiles escaped from the nose of the S-17, frictionless slugs that sped through space and tore into the shields of the approaching ships. Most managed to absorb the first volley, but one of the Kips blinked and went dead on the overlay. Mitchell didn't pay it any mind, turning sharply to avoid enemy fire. He smiled, happy to be at the control of a responsive interface once more. He had gotten used to the slower system Watson had provided and almost forgotten how fast he could be.

  He cornered in on a Kip, strafing the top of it, watching it fall dead right before he skittered around it, using it as cover while he changed direction again. A second Kip slammed into it, knocking them both away as shrapnel spread from the collision. It belched bluish tint along the S-17's shields, causing the helmet to alert Mitchell to falling integrity.

  He didn't pay the message any mind. The Tetron was growing larger ahead of them, and the cruisers had opened fire on the Goliath.

  Streams of missiles burned towards the lumbering starship. It met the fire with its own, lashing back at the projectiles with bolts of energy. One by one the warheads were blown aside, and at the same time Goliath began to turn its bow towards the Tetron, reducing its surface area.

  Next to Mitchell, a Kip exploded.

  The force of it rocked his fighter, sending it into a momentarily awkward spin. Mitchell righted himself just in time for another explosion to push him again. He cursed as he examined the overlay. The fighters were trying to get close to him to detonate, hoping to catch him in the blast. He dropped his nose and pushed thrust to max, streaking away from the enemy fighters.

  "They're kamakazing me again," Mitchell said, gaining distance before circling back. The cruisers were maneuvering around towards the side, trying to get a better angle on Goliath as they closed the distance. His AI was warning him about a power spike from the Tetron.

  It was going to fire.

  A similar surge was coming from Goliath, their own Tetron ready to counter the attack. Mitchell cursed again, swinging the fighter back around. He was too slow, taking too long to put the enemy ships away.

  Commands flowed from his mind to the helmet, the adjustments moving too quickly for any manual system to match. Mitchell fired four rounds of amoebics, watching the small discs spin out into the space ahead of him where the fighters were coming his way. They exploded in front of them, catching the lead and creating a field of debris that pelted the other ships. Mitchell used the distraction to get around them, racing towards the cruisers even as the two Tetron took their shots.

  Heavy plasma lit up the space around them, bright enough at the short distance to nearly blind Mitchell. He turned his head and continued on, the universe seeming to shudder when the two bolts crashed headlong into one another and a wave of energy spread from their center. The AI complained about his proximity to it only moments before it caught up to him.

  Mitchell felt the hair on his arms rise as the wave was caught by his shields. He watched the integrity meter fall and
continue to fall. Thirty percent. Twenty percent. Ten. The wave washed over.

  He was getting close to the cruisers.

  They were drawing near Goliath, and all of their batteries began to open up on the ship. Flashes of orange and red and blue lit up the sides of the starship, the shields absorbing the fire for now. Mitchell raced towards them, keeping an eye on the Tetron as it prepared to fire again, and the Kips that were organizing at his back.

  "Can you get a move on it, Ares?" Millie said.

  "Yes, ma'am," Mitchell replied. He got a lock on one of the cruiser's tails and fired, watching the amoebics bury themselves into its engines before exploding.

  Debris from the first cruiser ate into his shields, lowering the integrity a little more.

  The Tetron fired a second time.

  Goliath didn't fire back.

  "Millie?" Mitchell said, keeping his eyes on the second cruiser, working to get a lock on it.

  Goliath shifted suddenly, power diverted from the energy of a weapon to straight thrust. It dropped below the plasma, letting it fly past, before a stream of amoebics launched from its belly. They tore into the remaining cruiser, blowing it to pieces.

  "I should have known," Mitchell said, turning the S-17 back towards the Kips. They exploded in front of him all at once, the resources - both human and mechanical, taken away before they could be claimed.

  The Tetron vanished into hyperspace.

  16

  Steven traced the corridors of the Carver, from his quarters above and behind the bridge to the officer's conference room on the level below it. It was early in the morning. Two o'clock, Earth Standard Time. They were still floating along the Federation border though they had completed maneuvers a week ago.

  He had been expecting new orders. In fact, he had been waiting pretty impatiently for them. He didn't like hanging around empty space without a set goal. His crew and his battle group didn't either. It made them antsy and gave them too much bottled up energy. It caused friction and tension. Unspoken mostly, but he could feel it growing every time he traveled the ship.

  Captain Rock was on the lift when he entered.

  "Strange timing," he said.

  "That's Command keeping us on our toes," Steven replied, rubbing at his face. He had dressed and gotten out of his suite quickly, but he was waking slowly.

  "I don't think so. Something's going on, Admiral. They requested all of the fleet officers to be present for the communique."

  "You think we're going to war?" Steven asked. It was the only thing he could think of to explain Command's actions.

  "We're already at war on and off."

  "I don't mean the Alliance. I mean us. Our group. We should have been out there months ago. Heck, we should have been near Liberty when the Federation attacked. The Carver is one of the newest ships in the fleet. It would be nice to put her to use."

  "It would be nice to know we haven't been wasting all of this time on maneuvers for nothing," Rock agreed.

  The doors to the lift opened. They were joined in the corridor by Lieutenants Roberts and Atakan.

  "Captain. Admiral," they said, bowing to each.

  "Think we're going to see some action?" Roberts said. He was a small, slender man with a big smile that made everything he said come across with a measure of humor and ease.

  "What, you don't like all the downtime?" Atakan said. He was a much taller man, broad and muscular, with a deep, serious voice. He was the team leader for Alpha Squadron, a decorated pilot who barely fit into his starship.

  "No. Not at all."

  They walked the last hundred meters to the larger room, where the rest of the officers were already assembled.

  "Attention," Rock said.

  The room snapped to silence as the Lieutenants found empty seats. Captain Rock joined them a moment later while Steven moved to the front and center of the room. He opened a channel on his p-rat, connecting to the assembly, as well as the assembled officers on the other nineteen ships in his fleet. A thought brought the communication file forward.

  "You all know why you've been called here," he said. "Let's see what our orders are."

  He opened the file, validating it with his identification before passing it on the rest of the officers. He closed his eyes as the recorded message began to play.

  "Battle Group Carver," General Nathan Cornelius said, his face and uniformed upper-half appearing in Steven's eyes.

  His appearance surprised Steven. They typically received their orders from Admiral Yoshida, the Commander of the 4th Fleet, of which they were a part.

  "As you know, Alliance directives call for dissemination of mission protocols to all registered officers in a battle group in the event of a Tier One security concern. What I am about to tell you exceeds this concern." He paused, his eyes locked into the camera that recorded the stream. "As you also know, we have been butting heads with the Frontier Federation for quite some time. The Battle of Liberty has brought us to a crucial decision point in this conflict, as we have irrefutable proof of the Federation's capability to field military technology that is beyond our own by a number of generations. With that in mind, the Alliance attempted to mitigate the threat by sending a covert ops team to destroy a starship construction dock; however, the team failed.

  "We are now in a position where we must act quickly and decisively against Federation interests in order to delay development of more ships like the one that attacked Liberty. As one of the youngest battle groups in the Fleet, with some of the newest technology at your disposal, you'll be leading the way as we begin a multi-pronged strategy to invade deep into Federation space."

  Cornelius paused again, letting the gravity of his words sink in. Steven felt his heart quicken, and he absently rubbed a hand along the scruff of his beard.

  "You'll find the full mission parameters outlined in the included documents. The long and the short of it is that we need to hit the Federation, we need to hit them hard, and we need to hit them where it will hurt. There are Alliance laws being changed right at this moment to make this happen. This is more than a little tit for tat over a far-flung colony, gentlemen. This is for the very survival of the Alliance. I know you'll all do your nation proud."

  Cornelius bowed his head in salute.

  The stream ended.

  The room erupted into a sea of soft whispers and murmurs. Steven didn't join in, nor did he send a command to silence it. Instead, he kept his attention within his ARR. The stream had been replaced with a number of folders, one of which was classified and visible only to him. He went to that one first, moving into it. He was surprised to find a second recording inside. He opened it.

  General Cornelius appeared again, this time sitting behind his desk. He looked calmly annoyed.

  "Admiral Williams," Cornelius said. "Steven. I didn't want to bring this up in the general mission statement, but I thought it was important that you knew. Your brother, Mitchell, isn't dead. He managed to escape Liberty with the help of the Federation. He was at the station that we failed to destroy. He warned them that we were coming. It's his fault that hundreds of our best soldiers are dead. It's his fault that you're being sent into Federation space. He's more than a fraud, Admiral. He's a traitor, and he's dangerous. I'm telling you this because he is on the run, and he may try to contact you. If he does, you must send a message to me immediately, along with any information you have regarding his whereabouts. Cornelius out."

  Steven stared at the folders floating in black space behind his closed eyes. Mitchell? A traitor? He could accept that his brother might have lied about the Shot. He could almost accept that he had tried to attack the Prime Minister's wife. But to join the Federation?

  Mitchell would never do that.

  Would he?

  He opened his eyes. The officers had silenced again. They were all staring at him.

  He stared back, his mind reeling. They had said Mitch was dead in a barn. How had he escaped? Why had the Alliance lied about it?

  "Sir, a
re you well?" Rock asked, beginning to rise from his seat.

  He put out his hand to stop him. Cornelius said Mitchell was a traitor. It didn't matter if he believed it or not. The Alliance had to know better than he did. Besides, he had orders.

  "I'm fine," he said. "You all have three hours to read through our mission parameters. I don't need to tell you how to do your jobs."

  "Yes, sir," over a hundred voices called back into his p-rat.

  "Dismissed," he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

  Mitchell a traitor? He decided he wouldn't tell his mother. He wasn't sure she would survive the disappointment.

  17

  "Well, that was interesting," Millie said as Mitchell brought the S-17 into Goliath's hangar.

  "How the hell did it know we were here? Or going to be here? Origin?" Mitchell patched the intelligence into his channel.

  "I don't believe it knew we were arriving in this vicinity," Origin said. "It was far too evenly matched to have expected to run into us. It seems a coincidence."

  "We're in the middle of nowhere. Do you really believe that?"

  Origin was silent for a moment.

  "Mitch," Millie said. "Are you suggesting-"

  "That we have a mole? A snitch? A spy? What else could it be?"

  "Okay. Who? And how? We only got the coordinates from Tio a week ago. We don't have any communications systems that can send a message in time for anything to have gotten here ahead of us."

  "The Tetron do," Mitchell said.

  "Are you insinuating that I had anything to do with this?" Origin asked.

  "Not directly, no. You have no reason to make yourself look innocent. You could have killed me weeks ago. What if someone hacked into you?"

  Origin chuckled. "Even if that were possible, Colonel, as we've discussed before I do not have the proper configuration to send that kind of message on my own. The Tetron could not have been informed by anyone on this ship."

  "What about the Knife, then? He could be working with the Tetron. He could be a Tetron for all we know."