The Memnon Incident: Part 2 of 4 (A Serial Novel)

by Marc DeSantis

  "Working in league with another power?" the king asked. Donner had seen the king in person twice before, and each time he was struck by how handsome he appeared. Evander was tall, possessing dark hair and chiseled features, and seemed to have been made for the role of winning the hearts of men and women.

  "Not likely," Admiral Otis said. "We have been interrogating the crew of the Snow Tiger. From what we have learned, it looks like their captain's and his co-conspirators' plan was to make it appear that Memnon was in league with us, and that we wanted to hurt the Republic."

  "The breach still means that our screening has not eliminated all potential turncoats."

  "You are correct, your Majesty," responded Otis. "My people are working to plug any leak as soon as possible. We will figure out who it was and end him."

  The king considered this momentarily. "Our rapid expansion," he said, "has brought into the fold a worrying number of subjects of uncertain loyalties."

  "We are forced to trust much of the basic research on these projects to academics, not military men," Otis noted. "Many come from worlds besides Tartarus Prime. Scientists are a different breed. They see themselves as better than the common sort of people. It is possible, no, I think probable, that one of them turned over some advanced tech out of some kind of misguided sense of duty to humanity. Keeping things even among the powers of the Sphere."

  Admiral Thorpe's eyes narrowed. "You mean he - she - whomever - gave away some technology to keep the balance of power? How could you know that? Maybe it was just for money."

  "I am not sure," said Otis. "It may have been simply money as motivator. These researchers, they know what they have before them. What it could mean to our fleet. Perhaps one didn't want us to get the upper hand over our enemies. That would mean more war, to their way of thinking. If one of the dissident groups could get in touch with one our own people and convince him that they represented a foreign government, and that by handing over some tech they would help maintain the peace, that might have been attractive to a high-minded idealist."

  "I find that hard to . . . ," Thorpe began.

  "It is time to move on to more immediate concerns," King Evander interrupted. "It is enough to know for now that the breach occurred and must be sealed completely. These renegades managed to get their hands on a million or so atomic mines, if what the crew of Snow Tiger tells us is accurate. Each one of those weapons is a vast danger to the Grand Design." He slammed his palm onto the table. Visible anger was a rarity in the king. Its appearance never boded well. Many of the assembled officers cringed inwardly. It appeared as if someone would have to pay an unpleasant price for this colossal screw-up.

  Then the storm passed. The king regained his composure and the stormcloud hovering about his noble face evaporated. His expression again became serene. "Do we know what has happened to the Halifaxian ships that were to be ambushed?" he asked. "What if the operation was successful, and there are Republican navy personnel floating dead in space?"

  "We have been monitoring traffic emanating from all Halifaxian star systems," Admiral Otis said. "A few warships have come and gone, but there has been no general mobilization. Our merchant traders haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. If Halifax suspected something, and thought we were behind it, they would have taken steps against us already. They haven't, which leads me to believe that, whatever has happened, they don't know everything. I think it more likely that they would blame Memnon for this attack if it has taken place."

  King Evander closed his eyes briefly and rose from the table. He strode over to the window where he was granted an unobstructed view of Darien below. The city was suffused by a hazy red-orange glow.

  "Could they be investigating?"

  "That is probable, your Majesty," answered Thorpe. "We don't have any ships in-system. We are preparing an engagement flotilla to take a look ourselves."

  "Would Halifax believe that Memnon acted on its own? It is a stretch to see what Memnon would gain from bloodying the Republic's nose. The RHN would surely respond with overwhelming force and crush Maurice. Whatever his disappointments with the Republic, my brother monarch is not an idiot. He has much to gain from us but not from a war, especially not now since no mutual defense pact has been concluded with us. I worry that no matter what has happened, Halifax will see our hand behind it."

  "I don't think that the Republic will immediately blame us if the operation was pulled off, your Majesty," said Thorpe. "They track of our deployments just as carefully as we do theirs. They will see that we are not in an aggressive posture, and were not preparing to strike."

  "The Republic will focus on Maurice as the guilty party, your Majesty," added Otis. "Halifax will likely conclude that its objections to the continuation of serfdom in the Memnon system and the trade sanctions they levied finally pushed Maurice over the edge. They know that Maurice has been trying to improve relations with us for a long time. He is also well-known as a prickly character. He is the most logical person for Halifax to blame."

  King Evander thought on this for a few moments. "I don't like this scenario at all. Too many variables and unknowns. Too many things that could go wrong. Someone is playing a dangerous game." He paused. "The second ship, the Snow Tiger, it said it was fired on. It was in the Memnon system when this happened. Who attacked it?"

  "We don't know, your Majesty," Otis said. "We have been energetically questioning the surviving crew. They claim to have been taken by surprise and could not identify their attacker before they had to make an emergency displacement."

  "They were lucky to escape," Thorpe observed.

  "They shouldn't have been there in the first place," the king snapped. "A warship of the Glorious Armada has been used for purposes not in accord with our strategic plans." Evander turned back to the conference table. "Someone wants to start a war between the Monarchonate and Halifax. It is not yet time for that."

  War with the Republic of Halifax was coming, of that Donner, and everyone else in the room, was certain. The king's ambition encompassed all of the Great Sphere, and after that, the fleets of Tartarus would sail beyond the darkness that encircled them and conquer star systems further afield. Humanity would be reunited in a Fifth Empire, under the banner of Tartarus, and the Armada would lead the way.

  But not yet. All was being done according to the king's intricate and farsighted plan, his Grand Design. Donner studied King Evander. The king looked to be no more than thirty or so years in age. He was much older than that, having a virtually endless lifespan made possible by his people's interaction with alien entities in the deep past. He had been a wise and just monarch, and also harsh, in his authoritarian rule of Tartarus. He had taken a backwater world of limited resources and made it into an interstellar powerhouse in only three decades.

  "What of the technology that was stolen?" inquired the king. "How does this alter the strategic picture if it has fallen into enemy hands?"

  Admiral Otis turned to Donner, who was seated directly behind him in a chair along the wall.

  "Lieutenant Donner, would you care to inform the king about the workings of the displacement emissions analyzer?"

  Instantly, all eyes were upon him. His skin began to itch and his face flushed.

  "Lieutenant?"

  Donner coughed. "Yes, Admiral, I would be happy to." He pulled out a stack of data sheets. "This is highly classified material, but what can be revealed has been cast to your personal omnicomps." Donner took a deep breath and plowed on. "An archaeological team investigating an ancient site on Kenmore III discovered a crashed starship seven years ago." Donner frowned. "That may be exaggerating things a bit. The ship was almost all gone, but a portion of the bridge was mostly intact. They pulled out what they thought was a navigation system. They were correct, up to a point."

  "How do you mean?" the king asked.

  "It was not only a navigational installation," Donner said. "It was intended to be an advanced tracker, able to take readings of a displacement bubble and predi
ct with accuracy where the displacing ship was going and where it would emerge from hyperspace."

  "It works?"

  "Yes it does, and very well. Every displacement envelope has a signature that corresponds to the size of the jumping ship, the distance it will travel, and its speed. That has been known for a long time. Previously, no one had been able to acquire more than a general sense of the signature. Readings could not provide any militarily useful intelligence. The Kenmore device, however, can handle the multidimensional mathematics to deliver extremely accurate predictive readings."

  Donner took another deep breath. "The next problem has always been how to make use of the intelligence that the tracker gives. The Black Moon, that's the courier ship that was used in the operation, it could never have caught up to Halifaxian ships operating under military power, even though it is itself a very speedy vessel. There would be no way for a trailing ship like that to outrace a naval vessel that had displaced earlier in time."

  "They did somehow," Simpson said.

  "You are correct, general," Donner answered. "The Black Moon was fitted with an experimental drive that delivers close to fifty percent higher speed than that allowed by conventional units while displacing. This too was recovered tech, and had also been stolen."

  "Why haven't I heard of this?" an astonished Admiral Thorpe demanded.

  Admiral Otis raised his hand. "Take it easy, Benjamin," he said. "This is a black program too. We didn't let out word of the existence of this technology, not even to top commanders. We're waiting until it is ready for prototype trials."

  "It appears that there has been a third ghastly breach," King Evander fumed. "First, one million nuclear mines are gathered unbeknownst to us. Second, the Kenmore device has been stolen, and I will answer my own question, if it has fallen into other hands the strategic balance will have turned very much against us. Lastly, a priceless drive has been purloined out from under our very noses. MMI is failing badly in its mission of guarding our military secrets."

  Otis' right eye twitched, so briefly that only Donner, who worked closely with the admiral, noticed it. It must have pained the admiral deeply to be thought to have failed his king. Tartarus was not nearly as united and monolithic as royal propaganda would have it seem. The people by and large supported King Evander, but there were groups that opposed him for a number of reasons. Some claimed he was an alien himself. Others that he was a warmonger. Still others desired independence from his iron-handed, if enlightened, rule. There was no way that Otis could have stopped all possible leaks of classified material when so many were unhappy with the Monarchonate. All it took was one researcher, likely a civilian, with access to the Kenmore plans, and the transfer of a few data files, and a revolutionary technology would be loose in the Great Sphere. The same was true for the drive system.

  "My deepest apologies, your Majesty," Otis said. The poor man's face flushed. "It will not happen again."

  "See that it doesn't," said the king. "As for our future course of action, I want a force dispatched immediately to find out what is going on in the Memnon system. There may be a stricken Black Moon still there. Some of our people may have been captured. There may also be Halifaxian survivors if this plan was carried out. If you find any, see that they never make it back to Halifax. We will have war, but only on our own terms."

  Chapter Twelve

  Aboard the Morrigan

  Lieutenant Anastasia Venn groaned in frustration. The source of her trouble, was as always, Lieutenant Stefan Chandler, who had again failed to follow proper protocols for conducting himself on the Morrigan. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Chandler, that you have to wear full protective gear when you enter unexplored areas of the ship," she warned. "Each new section you enter could be harboring hazardous microbes or be bathed in dangerous radiation. You can't just barge around knocking down doors hoping that everything will be okay."

  "Everything has been alright so far, Anastasia. We've been on the ship for many weeks and nothing has happened to any of us."

  "There have been injuries," Venn snapped. "Several, in fact."

  "Right, yes, but those have been sprained ankles, and bumped heads, not alien viruses let loose from the Time Before." He smiled. "Take it easy. Everything will be fine."

  Venn closed her eyes. "The health and safety of the crew are my concern. I will not take it easy," she said. "I expect you to obey protocols or else I will have Captain More haul your carcass off this ship. Am I clear?"

  "Okay, I understand. Full biohazard gear when I go off exploring. Understood." Chandler was ordinarily very casual with his following of Navy rules and regulations. Such things were never his strong point. But Venn's threat of having him pulled from the Morrigan exploration detail was too real to continue being so lax. Morrigan was a once-in-several-lifetimes opportunity. He would not - could not - miss it.

  "See that you do, or you will be spending the rest of the mission collating reports from your more professional peers." Venn looked Chandler up and down, scrunched up her nose as if she had smelled something hideously foul, spun on her heel, and left the displacement drive chamber.

  "She really does not like you," Julius Howell observed once Venn had departed. "You must have done something horrendous to piss her off. I had no idea that naval officers could talk to each other like that."

  "That's nothing," assured Chandler. "You've didn't see her when I ate a poison mushroom on Egell IV a while back. She warned me not to but I didn't see the harm. The Egellians have been munching them for thousands of years." He laughed. "No deaths, not least that I could determine."

  "That kind of anger in a woman towards a man. It either means that she likes you and can't understand why you don't like her back or that you killed her dog. You didn't kill her puppy, did you?"

  "No puppy killer am I," Chandler promised. "She does not like me at all. I would know. I have the sense for when a woman is interested in me."

  "Do you? Most men don't. Usually they can only tell if a woman likes another guy."

  "Oh, I'm sure. We've known one another since we were at Cold Bay. She never missed a chance to take a dig at me. It's usually just a frosty dislike that sometimes descends into outright animosity on her part. Besides, she has a serious crush on your cousin. She won't own up to it, she is too professional for that, but it is abundantly clear to me, and just about everyone else on the Steadfast. She always blushes prettily when the captain speaks to her."

  Howell nodded. Women had always liked Andrew. He was tall, dark, and handsome. It was a potent combination. "What does my cousin say about his chief medical officer admirer?"

  Chandler shrugged. "Nothing. As far as I can tell he has no idea."

  "That seems to be the way of it," Howell replied. "Maybe now we can get back to work."

  "Agreed. You were telling me about the powerplant and the displacement drive."

  "Right. We had been been having trouble deciphering just what parts of the plant produced energy, and how the drive then turned that energy into a displacement envelope."

  "You've solved those puzzles?"

  "Kind of," Howell said. "The exact functioning of the complete system is still far beyond us, but we have the basics down. We wasted a lot of time looking for analogues to our own technology. More advanced to be sure, but still similar to what we had. It is no wonder we could not find anything for days. The plant works on entirely different principles. The basic fuel is antimatter, but the power for the creation of the antiparticles is being sucked from a different, hyperspatial dimension. I have never seen anything like it. The plant is cold, but every now and again it will stir itself and our readings spike. Energy seems to appear from nowhere and then disappears as quickly as it came."

  "It sounds like an elegant system." Chandler said, furiously making notes on his wristcomp. "No need to carry dangerous antimatter for any longer than you need it. It is an extraordinary piece of engineering. The ancients were far ahead of us in propulsion." Antimatter pro
pulsion was not wholly unknown in modern times. The biggest warships, battleships and fleet carriers, were fitted with massive fusion reactors that could produce a limited but useful quantity of antimatter particles to boost overall energy output. Such systems were nothing compared to the totally antimatter-powered engine inside Morrigan. Chandler looked up from his wrist to Howell.

  "Now that you know this, how long will it be before you can get it turned on and have Morrigan moving FTL?"

  Howell held up his hands in protest. "Please take it easy there, lieutenant. I have just made the discovery of the century, maybe the millennium, and you want the thing to be underway already?"

  "In a word, yes." Chandler blinked twice. "This very instant if you don't mind."

  Howell laughed. "I will do what I can. But I think we are going to need a miracle to get this system up and running. Also, I am not sure if there has been damage to any systems we don't know of yet that might prevent the formation of a durable DP envelope."

  "I understand. Get it done."

  These military types were so impossible. They scarcely understood the science behind Morrigan and now they wanted Howell to get her to zip off to Halifax after fifty millennia of disuse. There was no use trying to get the Navy people to see things differently. They were too set in their ways. They assumed that every problem had a readily apparent solution and that all it took was hard work to implement it. "I'll do my best," Howell answered at last. "After all, I'm not going anywhere."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Memnon system

  Another boring, long-duration patrol. It felt like punishment. Commander Callisto Imagawa checked the chronometer of her Consolidated Aeroworks F-243B Wildcat deep space fighter. It had once been the case, she had been told by the old salts of the Navy, that an ace pilot would get her choice of assignments. Perform well, and you could pick your billet. When pirate lords had sortied from their their hidden bases in asteroid fields in Halifaxian space, or the dense clouds of gas giants in other, lonely star systems, Imagawa had fallen upon them with a ferocity that astonished her superiors and won her the admiration of her squadron mates. A posting to the carrier RHS Thunderer brought her into action against the fleet of the expansionist system warlord Justin, Duke of Rouen IX. She moved up in the ranks, and took command of her own squadron of speedy F-215D Arrows aboard the RHS Liberty. The Liberty was deployed to the Ajax front where she atomized dozens of Ajaxian K-75 Serpents and then did the same to about as many of their improved K-76 Drakes.