After a few moments of smalltalk and checking to make sure everyone was in their proper seat, the battalion sergeant quietly called the room to attention. The assembled guests rose to their feet as Captain Hunter entered. He gave the customary order to be seated and took his place at the head of the table. He greeted the Proximan delegation first and offered nice words for the entire party. The salad course was served and Chief Petty Officer O’Hagan smiled approvingly as she watched her servers operate like a well-designed machine.
Colonel Moody started the evening off with a gallant toast to the Proximans and an inspiring exhortation for the prince and king’s long lives and benevolent reigns. Vanguard Lieutenant Waterford responded by enthusiastically quoting the warrior’s oath and the Proximan allegiance to the Core Alliance. Moo later discovered all the feline warriors had given names, but that they all adopted more-or-less-official English-language aliases to make things easier for their human interlocutors. Oakshotte explained that humans had far more trouble with native Proximan languages than the king’s subjects had with human equivalents.
There were at least three more toasts before the main course. When the meal concluded, Hunter voiced his compliments to the Galley Chief and announced the dessert menu. Coffee, tea and brandy were offered, and the allied officers’ conversation turned to matters of state and their respective militaries’ place in the competing intrigues.
The captain’s commlink beeped. “Bridge to Hunter.”
“Go ahead.”
“We’re receiving a priority message from Core Prime. It’s the president.”
“Of?”
“The Core Alliance.”
Moo and Zony glanced at each other.
“You mean the commander-in-chief kind of president?” Hunter asked.
“Affirmative, sir. Priority signal.”
Hunter’s expression was no less confused than his officers’.
“Very well, signals. We’ll take it here in the captain’s mess.”
“Acknowledged.”
A small screen lowered from the ceiling at the far end of the dinner table. All the assembled guests shifted in their seats to see. The able crewman about to pour a refill for Colonel Moody even stopped to watch, white-gloved hands holding the silver carafe tentatively. The Core Alliance presidential seal appeared on a regal blue background. It dissolved to an unstable and wavering transmission. The face of a dark-haired man resembling President Baines was sitting in what appeared to be a makeshift office. It did not look anything like his familiar surroundings in the Core Prime executive residence. The unusual image set everyone on edge.
“Captain? Captain Hunter? Can you hear me?”
The president’s signal looked as if it were being jammed somehow. Both Cochrane and Annora glanced at Zony as if to ask the obvious question.
Captain Hunter stood at the end of the dinner table facing the reactive crystal display and put his napkin down. “Yes! Yes sir! We read you!” The voice on the subspace channel sounded as if the transmitter was low on power and fluctuating.
“My apologies for sending this communication without giving you at least some chance to prepare, captain, but I’m afraid we’re short on both time and options. Do not divulge your location or status. I need you to listen very closely to what I’m about to tell you.”
“Understood!”
“There has been a diplomatic incident in the Mycenae Ceti system. An unidentified military force has apparently opened fire on a delegation carrying a member of the Sarn Third House in the capital city. As you know we have no ambassador in the system. Despite the fact the settlers on M-Ceti Four are Sarn they have no allegiance to the Star Empire. We haven’t been able to establish reliable contact with anyone on the surface. Our communications are being interfered with. There is one other thing, captain.”
“Go ahead, Mr. President!”
“My daughter Shea was in the capital at the time of the attack.” Those words landed on the table like a ten-ton safe. Oakshotte snarled. Argent’s senior officers looked at each other in soundless shock. Yili excused herself.
“Understood!” Hunter replied. “Are you in any danger, sir?”
“I have transferred my operations and staff to a secure location in case this aggression is aimed at my family. We’re safe for the time being.”
“That’s good to hear, sir!”
“Thank you, captain. Admiral Powers is our backup. You have my full confidence and the full authority of this office to do whatever is necessary to find my daughter and return her safely to her mother.”
“Acknowledged!”
“We are need-to-know only, captain. We’re not entirely sure who we can trust.”
“I’ll find Shea, Mr. President, and I’ll bring her home safely. You have my word.”
“Thank you, captain. Godspeed to you and your crew. Core Prime out.” The channel switched back to the seal of the president. The captain activated his commlink and placed both hands on the table.
“Hunter to bridge. Get me the Officer of the Watch.”
“Affirmative, sir. Lieutenant Dohey has the conn.”
“Set alert condition one. Plot an assault course to Mercenary Point. Best speed.”
“Acknowledged. New course one one three mark two six. Helm answering ahead flank three.”
“Very well, Hunter out.”
The indicator in the captain’s mess shifted to AC one. The automated voice announcement echoed in the outside corridor.
“I knew it! We saw this coming weeks ago!” Moo snapped. “This is why we need our own eyes and ears! We would have known there were principals down there.”
“Never in position to do anything about it, either,” Hunter added as he sat heavily again at the table’s head. “We get called to clean up the mess.”
“You can’t blame yourself, sir–” Zony said.
Hunter gestured angrily. “The hell I can’t! The day I was given Argent, Powers’ chief of staff warned me there were factions gunning for us from inside the fleet. I should have known my little disappearing act would just invite them to go after another target.” Hunter slumped back into his chair at the head of the enormous conference table. “The war between the alarmists and the anti-alarmists continues.”
“We kept ourselves intact,” Doverly replied. “At least we can go after the bastards.”
“Our swords are yours, Kapeetah.” Oakshotte’s voice rumbled like ominous storm clouds.
“I appreciate that, old friend,” Hunter replied with a weary smile.
“You sure Cerylia doesn’t have another trick up her expensive sleeve?” Moo asked with a raised eyebrow.
“She’s lucky she rescued him first,” Annora replied. “Otherwise I’d have her and her ship marked under my cockpit window.”
“The Jack of Hearts declares war on the Condor pirates?” Moo grinned.
"–and there was nothing left but a cloud of feathers,” Annora deadpanned again.
Engineer Yili Curtiss walked back into the captain’s mess and set a datapack on the table in front of Zony. She took her seat. The gravity of the situation was obvious. This time she brought no extra gadgets with her. Not even an electronic reader or a technical manual.
“Any preliminary data?” Moo asked.
“I’ll throw in with the collateral damage theory for now,” Yili replied as Zony slipped the pack into a portable terminal. “This wasn’t planned as an attack on the president’s family. Shea is well know for her stubborn presence in distressed parts of space. She probably figured she could smooth things over and got caught in the crossfire.”
“All authorized by some high-ranking non-thinking scrivener at HQ,” Hunter muttered. “Further proof of my theory captains should be admirals and admirals should be retired.”
Oakshotte nodded. “Skywatch humans have always held honor above all. The reason for our many victories together. But we all face the same demons when it comes to committees and bureaucrats.”
“Some h
umans have other motives,” Hunter said. “And according to the president, we’re getting closer to figuring out which warren to root them out of. Engineer, I’ve got one of those feelings like I’m missing something here. What am I forgetting about M-Ceti that I shouldn’t be forgetting at this particular moment?”
By now Yili had also produced a hand-held terminal and was cycling through the data pack records one by one. “The heavy machinery facility on M-Ceti Four?” she replied without looking up.
Hunter snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” He activated his commlink. “Hunter to bridge. Get me Fury on priority channel. Patch it to the captain’s mess.”
The voice of the young signals officer on the bridge responded at once. “Acknowledged. Stand by, sir.”
A few moments later, the display shifted from Argent’s clear channel indicator to the Pegasus-emblazoned insignia of DSS Fury. A moment later the picture shifted to Jayce Hunter. She was sitting in her workshop wearing a Skywatch Academy sweatshirt.
“On course, captain. Estimating rendezvous with Minstrel in three hours present speed,” Jayce reported.
“Very good, commander. You told me a story once about heavy machinery on Prairie Grove Four. Something you discovered during First Praetorian? Is there a second ground emplacement in the Mycenae system?”
“Affirmative. The Prarie Grove facility was abandoned. We held it with a ground team until we were relieved by an OCE team from El Rey. Whoever built it might have moved operations to the opposite side of the Kraken Expanse.”
“Commander, why do all roads seem to lead to Mycenae Ceti all of a sudden? If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were being lured there for some purpose other than to ascertain the status of Shea Eileen Baines.”
“Only weeks ago we were ordered to avoid it.”
“Say again?”
“I made a third request to do recon in the Rho Theta system. Denied.”
“Would you be so kind as to send Yili your data on Prairie Four? I’d like at least some idea what to expect when we break system’s edge. As soon as you can brief Commander Islington in person, contact Zony for instructions.”
“Acknowledged. Fury out.” The screen returned to the Argent emblem.
“We need full spectrum combat space patrol, XO. What’s the fastest–”
“The Master Chief assures me we’ll be ready, sir,” O’Malley replied.
Buckmaster nodded, silently speaking for nearly 3800 enlisted crew members.
“Very well. Zony, I need you and Yili to process that–”
“Already underway, sir,” the signals officer replied without taking her eyes off the portable terminal.
“See?” Hunter smirked in Oakshotte’s direction. “I don’t even need to be here.” Zony smiled without looking up from her work.
“So this was planned in advance? By your own admirals?” Oakshotte looked astonished. His lieutenant’s expression was somewhere between “violence” and “righteous justice.”
“I’m telling you, if I ever get elected president, teenage girls aren’t allowed out of the house without an armed chaperone and close air support,” Hunter sighed.
“Good luck with that, captain,” Annora deadpanned.
“We need to dispatch our own investigation team when we arrive in-system, XO. Who do you recommend?”
“That’s an easy one, sir. Master Sergeant Dupree and Strike Sergeant Alexander. She’s SCIC, and Alexander’s recon skills will no doubt be extremely useful. He also has a trained K-9. They can team up with Rebecca’s people when they arrive.”
“Get them equipped and briefed. I want them aboard a paladin and ready to depart with fighter escort as soon as possible.”
“Aye.”
“This is dangerous business,” Zony said, still studying the data. “If something happens to Shea, the president will have no choice but to order a military response against the Sarn.”
“We may be that response,” Moo said.
“Powers thinks we bit off more than we could chew,” Hunter replied. “Scored a few touchdowns, but the admiral has never been a fan of the battle group approach without a true capital platform. He cut the frigates loose and sent most of the heavier ships back to Gitairn Station. In his opinion, the whole point of a strike battleship was to make the battle group obsolete. I got some good people in the bargain, though.”
“Well, he’s got a point. Now that we’re fully loaded, we’re carrying six squadrons of fighters and a light regiment of marine mechanized infantry,” Yili replied.
“I wanted Fury along anyway,” Hunter said. “When the gazelle scatter, we’re going to need cheetahs to catch them. I love my ship, but we’re a little broad in the girdle for open field tackling, and I’m not stretching the rubber band again like we did over Bayone. Should never have taken that risk.”
“Best we could do under the circumstances, sir,” Moo replied.
“That’s what I keep telling myself, colonel. So far it isn’t helping.”
“We’re just glad you’re here, sir,” Zony said with a bit of a glimmer in her eyes.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” Jason quipped with his trademark grin. “At least now we’ve got a wild card in the deck.”
“And what card is that, Kapeetah?” Oakshotte asked.
“The Maidens of Death.”
Eleven
“Captain on the bridge!”
“What the hell is going on?” Captain Darragh Walsh had to grab handholds to make his way on to the bridge of his ship. The rest of the crew was harnessed in and the Rhode Island was vibrating uncontrollably at the sudden acceleration.
Lieutenant Nessa Boyle was at the conn, watching the tactical display intently. “They came up on us fast, captain, but for some reason they decided to run! Contact designate Tropical Eight. Bearing two zero mark five. Range 200,000 miles. We are on a pursuit course and closing. Bearings match and waveform lock for primary weapons standing by.”
“Tactical, identification on Tropical Eight?”
“Negative, sir. We’ve got a range and course track, but their emissions signature doesn’t match anything in Skywatch records.”
Boyle rose from the command chair and joined the captain in his traditional station near the forward viewscreen. “It could be a new Sarn design, or it could be from an uncontacted fleet. She’s more maneuverable than we are and has lighter displacement, but so far she looks and acts underpowered.”
Walsh stared, as he often did. There were enemy commanders who would offer most of their retirements to know what was going on in the Warlock’s mind. There were more than a few among his own bridge crew who might have offered real money for the same knowledge. His ability to predict and react sometimes several minutes before a dangerous event made the hair on people’s arms stand up. Even though his ship was shaking from the speed, he was as calm and as detached as ever.
“Bridge to Engineering.”
“Engineering, Coogan.”
“Lieutenant, I need you to overpressure the engines. Give me five percent over amplitude.”
“Affirmative, captain. Power at your command.”
“Tactical, drop the battle screens and divert all power to the drive field.”
“Aye, sir. Velocity now four percent over emergency flank and accelerating.”
“Helm. All engines ahead, maximum power. Officer of the Watch, rig for combat maneuvering. Set alert condition one.”
“Alert condition one, aye.” The deck indicators all switched simultaneously as the destroyer’s bridge crew fastened their six-point shock harnesses. The floor plates heaved as maximum velocity plus five registered at the helm. The bridge hammered and pitched as the navigational computer desperately tried to keep the Rhode Island inside its own customized pocket of space.
“Report!”
“Range delta now negative eight thousand miles and increasing. Estimated time to intercept 35 seconds!”
Advanced warship designs took full advantage of the physics of dr
ive field technology. The incident that set off the search for a safer way to navigate open space began when one of the first starship crews was lost due to a collision with a piece of space debris that turned out to be no larger than a golf ball. At the time, the vessel was engaged in what was now known as “continuous acceleration.” The idea was to reach an appreciable fraction of the speed of light up to the halfway point in the journey, and then decelerate to a manageable velocity before reaching the destination star system.
The collision took place when one of the prototypical starships was traveling at 17% of the speed of light. The resulting energy release from impact was the equivalent of more than 1500 pounds of TNT, which pulverized the unshielded ship and caused the loss of the entire crew. It became painfully clear to humanity that the idea of just burning engines to go roaring across space in manned vessels was far too dangerous and expensive. Their solution was the Cantlon-type drive field.
From a physics standpoint, the invention of the Cantlon-type field generator couldn’t have come at a better time. The speeds and forces produced by the newest spacecraft engines were far beyond the capacity of the human body to withstand. What the drive field did was to create a survivable environment in a separate “reality,” colloquially known as the “bubble.” Inside the drive field, inertia, momentum and G-forces were dampened enough so that spacecraft crews could survive. Meanwhile, outside the “bubble” everything operated normally. In short, real-world physics were “absorbed” by the drive field, leaving the volume inside it unaffected by the increased energy. Drive fields were rapidly improved to support several kinds of energy and magnetic defenses, including Skywatch warship battle screens. The most recent advancements included the newest cloaking technology and of course the legendary Tarantula-Hawk capacitance deflectors, which used a variation on the Cantlon design to convert unstable energy and even kinetic forces to reactor power.
Battle Force Page 5
