by Jay Allan
Instead of almost fully operational…
Saratoga’s damage control teams had worked around the clock for two weeks, in an effort she considered nothing short of an outright miracle.
“Acknowledged, Admiral.” There was a hardness in Cutter’s voice, his tone almost feral. West was like most of Cutter’s close colleagues…absolutely astonished at the changes in the scientist in the past year and a half. He’d always been brilliant, but the urgency of the fleet’s fight for survival had brought out hidden strength from within. His research had been nothing short of miraculous, and he’d saved the fleet from certain destruction more than once with his groundbreaking innovations. But he’d also gone from a timid academic to the darling of the fleet’s Marines, a man who’d put his life on the line more than once, gun in hand. And he’d become the fleet’s most direct link to the vestiges of the First Imperium’s extinct people, now humanity’s unlikely ally in the fight against the Regent.
And now he’s gunning down enemy ships with the most powerful weapons ever built…
West looked up at the display. The main enemy fleet was driving right for Saratoga, with only token squadrons sent after her detached task forces she’d deployed around the flanks. She had no doubt the plan was to destroy the flagship…and then mop up the scattered forces after the human leadership had been eliminated. It was the smart strategy, based on everything the Regent knew of humans. But West smiled as she stared ahead.
The Regent still has a thing or two to learn about humans. At least ones like me.
“Commander, bring all weapons back on line. Prepare to fire. One missile volley, at sprint range. And then I want every laser battery firing full…until there’s not an enemy ship left out there.”
“Yes, Admiral.” She could hear the excitement in Krantz’ voice. He was beginning to understand her battle plan…and he could see the slaughter taking shape.
The display erupted in flashes of light, shots from the Shangri la’s massive orbital weapons platforms, blasts of such incredible power a single hit could destroy a kilometers-long First Imperium battleship. And destroy them it did, one after another of the blinking red icons simply vanishing from the display.
Then Saratoga shook as she spat her missiles, weapons designed for use at ranges far beyond that between her and her prey. The warheads streamed toward the enemy, seeking not the near misses that had been at the center of missile tactics for a century, but to use their newly-enhanced guidance systems—another of Cutter’s miraculous developments—to score direct hits. And when a five hundred megaton warhead impacted and detonated, even the largest warship simply disappeared, vaporized in an instant.
And so it was as Saratoga’s volley closed the distance rapidly, the short range gutting the enemy’s defensive response. She watched the display, as more of the massive enemy vessels simply blinked out of existence.
Saratoga shook again, a hit this time. The orbital weapons had taken a terrible toll, and Saratoga’s missiles had added to the carnage. But there were still enemy ships left…and this was a battle to the end.
“All lasers…open fire.” West’s voice was frozen, the sound of death itself, feeding all the legends about her. But now, for this instant, her reputation was true. She existed now to destroy the enemy, and she was ready to do whatever that took. Whatever the cost.
She listened to the high-pitched whine of the ship’s laser cannon firing as she continued to stare at the display. There was still a fight ahead, she knew. And the orbital weapons were trickling away, over half the great batteries silent now, having fired the last of their ordnance. West suspected she could hold Shangri la almost indefinitely if she’d been able to keep its defense grid functioning, but time had done its work, and only a tithe of the ordnance that had been placed there eons before was still functional. And Cutter had used almost all of that in fending off three assaults. She knew the next one would be different, that the burden would fall almost entirely on her own ships, but for now she focused on destroying the enemy that was here now…while she still had the power of the Ancients on her side.
Her eyes darted to the small clusters of dots on the flanks of Saratoga’s group, the other task forces she’d deployed…and the enemy ships moving toward them.
“Are you ready on the flanks, Hieronymus?”
“Ready, Admiral. Just give the word.”
West sat stone still, looking ahead. “Fire.”
“All platforms firing, Admiral.”
Her eyes were fixed on the display, watching as the red icons started disappearing. She tried to imagine the scene in space, the mines maneuvering toward the enemy ships, destroying themselves in a whirlwind of destruction, the massive blasts of energy, ripping through even the dark matter infused hulls of the First Imperium ships.
Cutter had only discovered the mines two days before, the latest treasure from his continued search through the data banks of Shangri la. They were one shot weapons, equipped with extremely advanced stealth technology. West had known she could only use them once…and she’d almost told Cutter to keep them dormant, to face the enemy with the last of the megalasers and save the mines for the next attack. But then she did some calculations…and she knew she would lose up to half the fleet if she relied only on the remaining few shots from the lasers. If the choice was keeping robot weapons for a few more weeks…or saving her people, even if just until the next attack, it was an easy choice. Even for the admiral with the frozen blood.
“Mine detonating as planned, Admiral.” Krantz’ head was bent down over his scope, watching the data flow in. “Project kill rates in excess of 90%.”
West just nodded. The plan was working.
“All flank task forces…engage remaining enemy forces immediately.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
She stared at the screen, at the wave of enemy ships faced off with Saratoga’s group. The megalasers had taken a fearsome toll, but her flagship and its escorts were still outnumbered and outgunned. They wouldn’t last long alone. But they wouldn’t have to.
“All task forces are to execute plan Delta as soon as they eliminate local forces. All ships to close on the main enemy group.”
In another few minutes her ships would be converging from all directions, surrounding the enemy fleet, attacking them from the flanks and rear. She had no idea how she was going to defeat the next enemy attack, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Today she was going to blast this invasion force right to hell.
* * *
“Admiral, thank you for coming down. I have been digging deeper into the archives down here. I found it odd that this planet had defenses so superior to even the weapons on the Regent’s vessels, so I began digging. There is a lifetime of research to be done here, so I tried to focus, to access the final histories of the Ancients who were here at the end.”
West nodded. “Of course, Hieronymus. If you think it is worth my coming down here, that is enough for me. But what of these histories? I’m sure it is all very interesting, but it’s only a matter of time before the enemy returns.” The exhaustion was clear in her voice despite her best efforts to hide it. “And the Plague death toll is approaching one thousand. Worse, it appears that several other vessels were hit with the strange projectiles in the last battle. I’ve ordered them quarantined, but if the enemy can continue to deliver the virus by such means, they will eventually infect all the ships they don’t destroy. Then that will be the end.”
“Not necessarily, Admiral.” Cutter gestured toward a small row of chairs facing a large screen. “Please have a seat. I know that environmental suit is a bit bulky, but hopefully you can get at least moderately comfortable. I find the First Imperium chairs to be a bit awkward, despite being a reasonably close match for our own. I think the Ancients were likely a few centimeters taller than us on average, with slightly shorter legs and longer torsos…nothing that would be terribly obvious if one was standing here, but nevertheless, it is quite noticeable over
time when sitting in their chairs. I’m afraid my back has been quite sore recently.”
He watched as she sat, and then he plopped down in a chair at the end of the row.
“Not necessarily? What do you mean, Hieronymus? That the enemy’s attacks will not destroy us? Have you found more weapons?”
Cutter shook his head. “Unfortunately no, Admiral. I have been quite aggressive in seeking out more firepower…or some reloads for the megalasers, but I’m afraid there are none. At least none I’ve been able to find any mention about.”
West sighed. “So we have twenty more shots, and that’s it?”
“Twenty-one, Admiral. “And some remaining power in the lighter guns. I’d say the grid will be of considerable use in the next combat…though not with the impact it has had in previous battles. Very particularly, I believe we must seek to save the last shots of the megalasers for the largest enemy ships. Leviathans, certainly…and perhaps even Colossuses if any come through the warp gate.”
“I’m inclined to agree, Hieronymus. An enemy force with even one Colossus would likely destroy the entire fleet. We must save at least some shots to deal with that eventuality.” She paused for a few seconds. “So why did you call me down? It couldn’t have been discussing saving shots for heavy enemy ships…we could have discussed that over the com, couldn’t we?”
“Indeed, Admiral, you are right. But that is not why I asked you to come down. I have found the log of their chief…doctor is not the right title. I’m not sure of the correct equivalent term. The Ancients had a somewhat different hierarchy than we do. A doctor treated the sick, but there was a different classification for those who researched diseases and such. That profession had fallen into almost total disuse, with only a few practitioners remaining in the imperium at the end.” He turned and looked over at West. “You see, they had eradicated infectious illnesses millennia before the time this base was built. They actually achieved what we have long pursued…until the Regent unleashed its engineered virus on them.”
West stared intently at Cutter. “Go on, Doctor.”
“Admiral, I believe that is why the disease was so devastating to them. Their doctors were not researchers…they just relied upon millennia old treatments for any maladies that cropped up…and the few remaining practitioners of the research branch were more archivists than anything. When the disease appeared, for all their technology, they were caught completely unprepared. And the Regent’s control over their infrastructure and trade routes gave it the perfect tool to ensure that all worlds were infected almost simultaneously.”
He looked over at West, and she stared back through her visor, a questioning expression on her face. “And this tells us what?”
“That the disease may in fact be far easier to cure than we might have imagined. We have been thinking the Ancients were incapable of doing so…but then I began to think, perhaps they were capable, but they simply ran out of time. It is difficult to imagine how such an ancient civilization, and one that had lasted so long, was destroyed so quickly. But then I realized. Our ancestors grew their own food…they hunted and gathered. They survived without technology. But if a modern society were to suddenly lose all its modern equipment…people would die in droves. The abilities that were common, routine several thousand years ago are mostly lost. Farmers today use robotic tractors and agri-AIs to develop optimal planting schedule. We use genetically-altered seeds and fertilizer cocktails. We get a hundred times the yield that ancient farmer did. But we become helpless if all we have is the horse and plow he did.
He looked at West, and he could see she was confused. “Don’t you see, Admiral? The idea of a disease that didn’t respond to their centuries old treatments was unthinkable to them. They didn’t have any experts on researching cures for diseases, because they hadn’t needed any for thousands of years. The Regent chose its line of attack well.”
He could see she was beginning to understand. “Any thoughts we had of massive labs and skilled scientists working around the clock to find a cure are in error. Indeed, the records I found suggest that only one significant research effort was begun. And that was here.”
He pressed a button on a small controller in his hand. The screen lit up, showing the image of a woman. No, not a woman, at least not a human, though it wasn’t easy to tell the difference.
“This is Calphala. She was a member of that almost extinct caste in the First Imperium, a medical researcher. She spent most of her life before the crisis cataloging ancient research notes, but by some strange twist of fate, she was extremely capable, a resurgence of the spirit and ability of those who had come before, who had centuries before rid their society of disease and infirmity.”
“She was here?” West was looking at the screen, but now she turned back toward Cutter. “On this world?”
“Yes,” Cutter replied. Then he pressed another button, and the video on the screen began. Calphala was speaking, though the sounds coming from the speakers were like no Earthly language. Cutter paused the video. “The AI is still working on a translation…but I…ah…understand what she is saying. It is something Almeerhan did to me. I cannot speak their language, nor can I understand the words, at least not consciously. But I comprehend what is being said. This is Calphala’s log. She kept it while working on a cure for the disease.”
“That is incredible, Hieronymus. But the Ancients failed to save themselves…they died out from the disease. Except the few who’d managed to escape infection and who were killed fighting the Regent’s forces. And the disease that wiped them out was different. Humans are not susceptible to it.”
“Yes, Admiral. That is true. They failed to save themselves. But Calphala’s log entries tell an interesting story. She may not have cured the disease, Admiral, not in time to save her people. But I believe she came close. Very close. And all of her research is in these memory banks. Perfectly preserved.”
West was staring at Cutter. “All her research?”
“Yes, Admiral. I have the AI working on translations now. I should have the first batch in twelve hours. I suggest that you assign Dr. Gower to review it, and incorporate it into her own research. From what I have been able to ascertain to this point, Calphala was very close. But by that time she herself was gravely ill. Her last few log posts are difficult to watch. She was an amazing intellect, and to see her withering, just as she was on the verge of success is heartbreaking.” He paused. “And I wouldn’t assume the cure she was developing would be ineffective against the pathogen we are facing. It is likely the Regent simply altered some minor proteins to overcome the Ancients’ ‘fixes’ to human DNA, to make it effective against us. There is a good chance this cure will work against our disease too.”
He looked over at West. “I am still sifting through records, Admiral, but I believe the Ancients missed saving themselves by the smallest of margins. They had gathered their greatest minds here. The megalasers were the work of another of their team. They almost saved their race…but they were just too late. If they had an extra year, they may have won the war we are now fighting. But they didn’t…and it is left to us to win the victory.”
“I am speechless, Hieronymus. There are a lot of uncertainties, but I am inclined to agree with your conclusions, all of them. I will order Dr. Gower to report to you at once.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I will do everything possible to assist her. Calphala failed to save her own people…but maybe she can help save ours…”
Chapter Twenty-One
AS Cadogan
System V6
The Fleet: 78 ships (+2 Leviathans), 18845 crew
“All engines, stop.” Max Harmon sat in his chair, totally still, as if somehow his movement would give away the ship’s position. It was nonsense, he knew. He could have played drums on the bridge and it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference, with or without the non-detection device installed. But he did it anyway.
“All stop, sir.” Nicki Frette answered crisp
ly, not a hint of fear in her tone. Harmon was impressed…in fact, he’d had a good impression of Frette from the first moment he’d plopped down in Cadogan’s command chair and started snapping orders in her direction.
Harmon had served a long time in the tactical chair, though admittedly the job was considerable different on an admiral’s staff than it was serving a ship’s captain. Still, he understood the benefits of a close working relationship between the person at tactical and the superior officer in command. Frette was a real veteran, cool as they came, and he understood immediately why West had chosen her to go with him.
A great reward for good service…going along on a suicide mission…
Harmon stared at the screen, and the last thing he felt was cool. Cadogan had slipped by a few small enemy patrols, mostly small packs of Gremlins moving toward Shangri la. But this was no patrol, not even a task force. This was a full-blown battlefleet, led by two Colossuses. And it was heading straight for Cadogan, or at least for the warp gate the cruiser had come through an hour before.
Now Harmon would see how well this device really worked. There were a hundred ships coming right at them. That was a lot of scanners, gigawatts of power behind sensor beams and active and passive detection arrays. If the thing hastily installed next to Cadogan’s reactor didn’t work perfectly, if it didn’t block every nano of energy output, if its projection system and spatial dampeners weren’t one hundred percent—and that did mean one hundred percent—the mission would end here. It would take the lead enemy ships a few seconds at most to vaporize the single Alliance cruiser.
