Battle Force

by Shane Lochlann Black

  “Very well. Keep me advised. Islington to Minstrel.”

  “Minstrel, Winchester here.”

  “Report all contacts.”

  “Our only contact is Ghost Six. The Sarn formation has maneuvered beyond acquisition. We still have residuals on LRS but nothing definitive unless we can re-acquire.”

  “Understood. Quarter-hour reports on our status and position to the Rhode Island. Keep me advised.”

  “Acknowledged. Minstrel out.”

  The air seemed cooler than Rebecca remembered from her visits to Proximan ships in the past.

  “This life support level seem odd to you, corporal?”

  “Doesn’t feel like a Proximan environment, ma’am. Perhaps there’s a malfunction?”

  “Best keep an eye on the temperature. Let’s check down there. We’ve got to find out what happened to the crew.”

  The captain and the marine corpsman moved quietly down the auxiliary corridor towards a sealed pressure door that terminated the passage. The port in the door was frosted over. Brightness was visible. Islington presumed whatever facilities were inside were at least operational in standby mode. She ran a quick operations check on the console. It was functioning, but the hatch was sealed.

  “Can you bypass this?”

  “Aye, ma’am.” Corporal Gray moved up and unlocked the electronics interface on his exo-frame. Within moments, he had established a power supply for the door independent of the console circuitry. The locks disengaged. He attached a magnetic anchor to the hatch surface and slid it aside. A blast of cold air escaped into the passageway. The exo-frame’s lights told the story. A handheld torch had been left on the floor with its beam pointed at the hatch. Otherwise the room was quite dark. A Proximan technician was slumped over the operations console. Rebecca and Corporal Gray immediately went to his aid. While the corpsman tested for a pulse and opened his field kit to take vital signs, the captain activated her commlink.

  “Islington to Brogan. We’ve got a casualty here. I need you and Brickert’s team to break off your search and meet us at position ten. Acknowledge.”

  “Affirmative, commander. On our way.”

  Rebecca picked up the discarded handheld light and examined it. There was nothing unusual except the chilled surface. It seemed the room had been artificially cooled far beyond normal limits for some time. Frost had accumulated on the device and was just now becoming slick from melting.

  “Corpsman, I’m beginning to suspect these parts of the station were being kept cool for a reason.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I think someone has been tampering with life support.”

  Just then, Brickert’s team arrived. “Reporting as ordered.”

  “Sergeant, you and the chief need to go over this station with an electron microscope. I think life support has been tampered with, and I want to know why.”

  “I have a theory.”

  “I expected you might,” Islington replied.

  “We’ve found temperatures up to eight degrees off at several places around the station. I think life support was set for a much colder air temperature, and the station’s automatic systems are just now recovering,” Brogan explained.

  “Would that account for the unconscious Proximan?”

  “Negative. They can withstand cold just like we can. Better, in fact because they have natural coats.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Well, it’s not the Sarn. Our life support can’t produce an environment they can live in, and cold temperatures would be life-threatening for them. At the very least it would make them extremely lethargic without environmental suits.”

  Rebecca looked more and more impatient. “I don’t like mysteries, chief.”

  “Understood, ma’am. We’ll track it down.”

  Fourteen

  Colonel Moody bristled when Major Komanov entered the Argent executive conference. The intelligence officer brought a folio with her and was dressed in her section’s standard black on crimson uniform style.

  “Have a seat, major. I need you to explain to my senior officers the situation as you understand it.”

  Komanov sat next to the doctor and across from Moo. On the screen behind the captain was a star map of the Dead Reach, a region of space that contained the Kraken Nebula, the Rho Theta system and the contested Mycenae Ceti planets. She opened her folio and called up her briefing.

  “I don’t like this, sir.”

  “Colonel?”

  “We should be developing our own intelligence. Not relying on Skywatch.”

  “They might have information we lack, colonel,” Komanov offered.

  “I don’t trust them,” Moo stated flatly. “I know Jackson and Powers have reputations as stand-up officers, and I’ll follow their orders if that’s what it comes to. But Admiral James was a stand-up guy too, and there’s credible evidence he cost the crew of the Dunkerque and Commander DeMay their lives.”

  “That’s not for us to decide,” Komanov replied. “And it’s not our job to assign blame.”

  “Toby was my friend, major,” Moo snapped.

  Annora and Jason looked on. The captain considered putting a stop to the confrontation, but ultimately decided to let the two officers have it out. The issue had been a long time coming.

  “I served with him too. I served with a lot of your crewmates, some of whom didn’t come home from the Bayone engagement. I met Commander Enright’s widow, and his yeoman. We did what we could, and we prevailed because we somehow managed to patch an effective fighting force together from six different commands under the worst possible circumstances. The only reason we’re out here is because of what we accomplished against the renegades.”

  “I’m sure that’s meant to appeal to my better angels, major, but I still don’t trust what we’re being fed. I want my own view of things so I can make good decisions that aren’t being colored by some desk officer’s opinion 40 light years from here.”

  “If I assure you I will filter out any obvious attempts to spin Skywatch Command’s input, will that meet your requirements?”

  Moo regarded the major coolly. He had never been a fan of third-party intelligence to begin with, and now that his entire regiment was relying on it, his nonsense detector had become rather more sensitive than before.

  “I’ll refrain from drawing any conclusions, yet, major. But I’m not going to climb aboard the rah-rah wagon just because I’m offered a free ticket.”

  “I think that’s a reasonable position, colonel. May I present my sitrep?”

  “Go ahead, major,” Hunter said, recognizing the debate had run its course.

  An overhead view of the Mycenae Ceti system appeared on the crystal display. The lights dimmed. The M-Ceti primary was a subtype G5 star with eight planets. The view centered on the fourth planet in the system, called “Halloran’s World” by outsystem governments.

  “Three weeks ago, the embassy on M-Ceti Four was the site of an attempted kidnapping of several government officials including the Core Council’s undersecretary for political affairs. There were casualties, and at least one Skywatch warship was dispatched to quell any possibility of a flare-up between aggrieved elements of the Victorian Sarn and the native population.”

  “Victorian referring to the previous inhabitants of the planet,” Annora offered.

  “That’s correct,” Komanov replied. “A breakaway faction of Sarn settlers established a small astrographic outpost on the planet some thirty years before the first Core civilian expedition arrived. By the time Skywatch realized they were there, a population of nearly sixty thousand had settled an area of more than 200 square miles. Before any attempts could be made to settle the situation diplomatically, skirmishes broke out between the two strongholds, which was the incident that kicked off the First Praetorian Interstellar War.”

  “And this new event is dredging up old conflicts,” Hunter interjected.

  “That’s the position of Admiral Powers and Vice-Admiral Jackson
,” Komanov replied. “The anti-alarmists still have considerable political influence among the majority of the Core Council. The Gitairn affair was a setback for them, but like all bad ideas, their faction is determined to stick around and create uncertainty and doubt whenever and wherever they can.”

  “And put us in danger in the process,” Moo concluded.

  “That’s the risk we should be most concerned about,” Komanov continued. “And one I expect Captain Hunter’s clout helped us address after our first meeting at Skywatch Command.”

  Hunter looked back over his shoulder at Annora with a grin. “Winning has its advantages. Just like the football team.”

  “Yeah, but this time we’re not trying to get Christy Bannister to go with us to lookout point.”

  Hunter looked wounded. “I never dated Christy. You’re thinking about Candi. Christy was going out with the captain of the basketball team. What was his name? Ricky? No, Randy!”

  “Hey, can we do the high school lifestyles of the popular and affluent some other time?” Moo interrupted. “What exactly are we looking at on Halloran’s World, major?”

  “It’s my belief and the belief of my superiors at Skywatch Intelligence that the increased Sarn activity we experienced during Gitairn may have been a prelude to this incident. There is reason to believe they are connected.”

  “They didn’t hesitate to take out after us,” Hunter noted. “What’s the strategic situation along the frontier?”

  “At least one Sarn capital platform has been monitored in each of the three systems bordering M-Ceti in the last 60 days. The captain of DSS Sierra has long-range sensor data indicating a possible sighting of a battle group crossing into El Rey from the Prairie Grove system one week ago. If he is correct, that would mean there are units capable of planetary assault operations only one hop off M-Ceti in three bordering systems.”

  “That’s not a coincidence,” Annora said. “That sounds like someone in the Star Empire itching for a second round.”

  “I never believed our encounters with those lizard-skinned bastards were accidental,” Hunter muttered. “And now we’ve got more sightings inside Core space. They’re all carefully managed to look like coincidence.”

  “That destroyer squadron didn’t accidentally shoot at us,” Moo chuckled.

  “The best of all possible evidence for open hostilities over Halloran’s World,” Komanov said.

  “But all the information we have argues against it,” Hunter replied. “They got their clock cleaned in First Praetorian. They lost 200 ships and over a million surface forces. Admiral Hafnetz personally commanded the task force that knocked out their planetary base at Hades Point. There’s no way they can possibly mount an offensive of the magnitude necessary to take M-Ceti without help.”

  “Perhaps they’ve found it,” Annora said.

  “What about that, major?” Moo asked.

  “The doctor’s right,” Komanov replied. “They have.”

  “From whom? The Yersians don’t have the tonnage. The Ithis weapons have all been quarantined, ordered destroyed or buried 40 miles down on Bayone Three. There are no other star-faring civilizations with the ships or the logistics to bring the fight that far into Core territory.”

  The star map on the display was replaced by the image of an unusual-looking ship. It wasn’t a Core design, as it lacked the vestigial delta-shape and “wings” so many aircraft-inspired Skywatch vessels retained. This one was perfectly spherical. Next to it was a Matador-class war destroyer for scale.

  “We’re calling them the Kraken for the time being, as we don’t have any reliable information as to their origin. This is the only sensor contact telemetry we have on them so far. No Skywatch ship has engaged them directly, but the Alexandria observed an engagement between this vessel and a Proximan Q-ship not far from where we first detected that Sarn battlecruiser.”

  “Never detected before?” Annora asked.

  “No records of this ship or anything like it anywhere in Skywatch records,” Komanov replied. “Wherever they call home, it must be on the opposite side of the Star Empire. They are also quite hostile to the Proximans.”

  “Atlantis?” Moo offered.

  “Possibility,” Komanov replied.

  “That, or they’ve occupied Sarn space and now they’re picking a fight with us,” Hunter said.

  “Sounds more believable that way,” Moo added.

  Hunter’s commlink beeped. “Engineering to captain.”

  “Hunter here.”

  “Sir, I need a moment,” Yili Curtiss said impatiently. “How soon can you meet me in main engineering?”

  “I’ll be there, shortly, commander.” Hunter set his commlink to standby.

  “Besides following Powers’ orders and softening up the arm for Hafnetz, what’s our mission, major, as you see it?” Moo asked.

  “Prepare for a second Praetorian war, and then pray it doesn’t happen.”

  Fifteen

  “You were right again.”

  Lieutenant Boyle had just gotten the data from Rhode Island’s formidable short range scanner banks uploaded to the light table display on the destroyer’s war deck when Captain Walsh arrived. He was wearing his long coat and distinctive Wayfarer skipper’s cap. The ensemble made him look exactly like a Royal Navy sub commander circa 1935. The iron Skywatch emblem and chain around his neck only added to the mystique. He was the only starship captain Boyle had ever seen with such an accessory.

  “Minstrel couldn’t get the whole story,” Walsh said.

  “They had all the pieces of the puzzle except one,” Boyle replied. “Here it is in chronological order.” The tactical recreation of all the telemetry played out in an accelerated animation of a top-down view of multiple systems. “Tropical One entered the M-Ceti system here. They made a close pass of planets four and five, and then transited out-system from the Palomar Jump Gate here. That put them at Rho Theta’s system’s edge, where they made a course correction in an attempt, we believe, to either intercept or rendezvous with unknown units near the Proximan Listening Post. This new tracking was provided by Repeater Five after Argent disappeared from our scope.”

  “And we have no additional contacts in-system at Rho Theta or Repeater Four?”

  “Negative. Whatever their objective was here at Rho Theta, they didn’t stop long enough to meet it. They traveled on in normal space into the Rho Theta primary’s Oort Cloud, where we lost contact.”

  “What about Tropical Eight?”

  “That vessel may have been seeking to rejoin the formation, but that’s not the important part. This just came up in Repeater Five’s imaging.” A blurred image of a spherically shaped vessel flying in formation with at least one Sarn frigate-class starship appeared in the center of the display. Walsh studied it quietly as he enlarged the image and sharpened it.

  “Now what the hell is that?” he said in an amused tone.

  “That, sir, is what all this activity might be about. It’s not a Sarn design, and whatever it is, it managed to jam Repeater Four’s long-range tracking signals from more than a light-hour away.”

  “Uncontacted faction?”

  “That’s my theory.”

  “That puts us at seven distinct contacts inside Core space. Six confirmed Sarn warships and the new guy. It’s going to be tough for them to claim these were all navigational accidents.”

  “Agreed. The question is what we should do if they come back this way.”

  “At the moment, I’m hoping Islington and her boarding party can get what they need and get back into open space before that happens. I don’t want Minstrel pinned at the base of that station with no cloak and no ECM if the ringside bell sounds out here.”

  “We’re still getting the automated distress signal from the station.”

  “While she’s down there, I hope she can find a way to turn that thing off. We don’t need to be drawing any more attention to ourselves. How long has Argent been out of contact now?”

  �
�Three hours.”

  Walsh swallowed a curse. “Alright, put us back on station to support Minstrel and keep us dark and quiet. I’m going to give Captain Hunter another hour, then I’m calling this mission off until we can come back with fighter cover and a proper SAR team. We just don’t have the horses or the wagons for this.”

  “Aye, captain.” Nessa stepped down from the platform on to the main bridge. “Helm, prepare to bring the Rhode Island about.”

  Sixteen

  Captain Hunter strode into the lair of the Fighting 16th with Commander Star Wing Zack “Full Keg” Roscoe and Deputy Commander Star Wing Desiree “Danger Baby” Shaw alongside. Each embarked unit aboard the Argent had a separate facility for briefings, barracks and training, and although the 16th was technically on loan from another captain, it was customary for them to have their own home territory just like the other four major fighter squadrons in Jason Hunter’s arsenal.

  Unlike some of the other, younger units, the Devil Cats’ hallway was decorated with many years of history. Prominent among the emblems, photographs, awards and recognition displayed for visitors were enormous beauty shots of the fleet carrier Song of Heaven, which was their home command. A massive plaque featuring no fewer than five battle stars commemorated the names of the thirteen pilots who gave their lives in the performance of their duty over the planets of the El Rey star system during the Dante Campaign. There were at least 100 photographs featuring pilots, deck crews, fighters and families. A huge colorful squadron emblem featuring a roaring mountain cat with devil’s horns adorned the opposite wall. Then there were group photos of pilots from the many eras during which the Fighting 16th had seen action. A beautiful color photo of a fully armed 2G Wildcat fighter flown by retired flight leader Rear Admiral Bernard “Cool Waters” Yackinsaw during a fleet celebration on Core Prime topped off the display.

  Between all the more noticeable decorations were the framed replica flight jackets: One for every former pilot from the squadron. There were dozens of them, each embroidered with numerous patches and awards and each frame captioned with the pilot’s name and rank insignia. Naturally, the pilots themselves kept the originals, but some were such works of art that one of the squadron’s former flight leaders decided to have a copy made to donate to the command. The tradition stuck, and suddenly one jacket became a collection.