Star Swarm: The Chaos Wave Book One

by James Palmer

  “The Odysseus.”

  Hamilton nodded. “Hail them.”

  “Channel open.”

  Hamilton stood up. “Odysseus, this is the Onslaught. We’re headed your way. Hang tight.”

  “Fall back, Onslaught,” said a harried male voice on the other end. “Or they’ll get you too.”

  “What is the nature of the attackers?”

  Nothing greeted his ears but tachyon static.

  The hatch to the command deck slid open and Captain Kuttner stepped into the room. “What the hell’s going on here, Commander?”

  “Don’t know yet, sir.”

  “We’re now in visual range,” said Hudson.

  “On screen,” both commanding officers said, almost in unison. The viewer flickered to life. Severus Prime, where the colony had been until about twenty standard hours ago, was an orb of swirling green and white. A dull gray ship hung above it, and all around it swarmed hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of tiny metallic objects.

  “What are those?” said the Captain, pointing.

  “Don’t know,” said Hamilton. “Never seen anything like it. Attack fighters, maybe? But launched from where?”

  “Any other ships in the vicinity?” asked Kuttner.

  “Negative,” said Cade.

  “Activate defense fields,” said Kuttner. “Warm up the guns.”

  “Brackett,” Hamilton said, turning his head toward the communications officer. “Feed visual to our visitor’s workstation, then patch me through. I want her take on what we’re seeing.”

  “Aye, Commander,” she said.

  “Drizda,” he said. “Are you seeing this?”

  “I am. Though I don’t yet know what I’m seeing.”

  “A few of the hostiles have broken off from the main group,” said Hudson. “They’re headed this way.”

  “Battle stations,” said Kuttner. “Gunner Cade, you may fire at will.”

  “With pleasure, sir.”

  Cade aimed and fired the forward twin-mounted ion guns into the mass of approaching craft. “Direct hit,” he said, peering at a virtual readout. “Some of them were destroyed, but it mostly just scattered them.”

  “Lock on and destroy as many as you can,” said Kuttner. “And get me the captain of the Odysseus.”

  “Tightbeam’s down,” said Brackett.

  “Tightbeam’s gone,” Cade corrected. “Along with most of the Odysseus.”

  “What?” said Hamilton.

  “He’s right,” said Hudson. “More than sixty percent of the ship’s mass is gone.”

  “The vehicles are converging on us,” said Cade. “They’re fast! I can’t hit them.

  “Tactical view,” said Hamilton.

  Hudson touched a control stud and the view shifted from the doomed Odysseus to a wireframe of their own vessel. Small 3D shapes representing their tiny attackers hovered all around them.

  “Defense field to full,” said Kuttner.

  Indicators flickered as the enemy craft struck the powerful electric field surrounding the Onslaught.

  “Sir,” said Cade. “We’ve got a power drain. It’s affecting the defense field and weapons systems.”

  “Where is it coming from?” said Kuttner.

  Hamilton checked a readout. “I think it’s coming from whatever those things are. They’re siphoning off our power.”

  “Sir,” said Hudson, pointing to a shimmering red screen. “The Odysseus. She’s gone.”

  “On screen,” Kuttner commanded.

  The tactical wireframe disappeared, replaced by now empty space. A much larger swarm of the tiny craft surged where the other ship had once been.

  “Did those things just multiply?” asked Hamilton.

  “Yes, sir,” said Cade. “I’m afraid so.”

  The two senior officers exchanged wary glances. Something thudded against the ship.

  “Defense field won’t hold for long,” said Cade, glancing at a readout. “We’re still down one capacitor.”

  “Keep firing on them, whatever they are,” said Kuttner.

  Hamilton turned to Lt. Brackett. “Can we communicate with those things?”

  Brackett shook her head. “Negative. I’ve been trying, but either they don’t understand us or they’re incapable of hearing.”

  “Defense field power levels at thirty percent and dropping,” said Cade. He fired off another shot from the ion guns. “Got one!”

  Kuttner looked around the room. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said flatly.

  “There are thousands of those things out there,” said Hamilton. “More even than when we arrived. They’ll overwhelm us by sheer numbers.”

  Kuttner nodded. “Fall back toward the gate. Full power to defense field and engines. Divert it from elsewhere if you have to. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Aye, sir,” said Hudson as his hands began flying over the controls. Hamilton felt his stomach lurch as the large ship altered its course faster than the artificial gravity could keep up. He felt the familiar thrum of the engines humming up through his boots, and knew that they were under way.

  “The rest of the swarm is headed this way,” said Hudson. “Reading tens of thousands of individual units. I’ve never seen anything like it. Their movements are so coordinated. Like a school of fish.”

  “Or a swarm of bees,” Kuttner offered. “Let’s admire them later, when they’re not trying to eat us.”

  Hudson and Cade worked together to put as much distance between the Onslaught and the swarm while picking off any individual units that got too close. Soon the Q-gate loomed ahead.

  “Destination, sir?” asked Brackett, ready to send the musical tones that would get them out of this region of space.

  “Anywhere but here,” Kuttner murmured, his eyes never leaving the view screen.

  Chapter Nine

  Questions

  “What the hell were those things?” Kuttner asked.

  He was sitting at the head of the table in the ship’s ready room, Hamilton sitting directly across from him. Drizda sat to Hamilton’s right, her taloned hands clasped atop the table, a data slate lying in front of her.

  “Judging by their performance and behavior,” said Drizda. “I am convinced they are what have been destroying our colonies.”

  “I figured as much,” said Kuttner. “But what are they? Who are they?”

  “They appear to be some type of mechanical probe,” answered Drizda. “But I have never seen anything like them before.”

  “Probes?” said Hamilton. “Is someone piloting them?”

  “Doubtful,” said the Draconi, swiveling slightly in her chair to face him. “But they are nonetheless intelligent, and dangerous.”

  “This is all we need,” said Kuttner, rubbing his eyes. He looked as haggard as Hamilton had ever seen him.

  “Perhaps we really should just obey our original orders,” Hamilton offered cautiously.

  Kuttner glared at him, his jaw clenching. “You mean turn tail and run? Noah, my boy, there is a new threat out there. One that is taking out both us and the Dragons one by one. And you want to go home? Once this madness is over, yes. But not yet.”

  Hamilton nodded once. He respected the old man for wanting to stick things out and see it through, and admired him for violating orders in order to do so.

  “It would help if we knew more about what we are facing,” said Drizda, tapping at her slate with a sharp talon. “I believe there is a snippet of the Progenitor epics that might have some bearing on what we’re up against.”

  “You mean the same epics that still haven’t been fully translated?” said Hamilton. The long-dead race had been common knowledge for over 400 years, but their best scientists had yet to scratch the surface of their technology and culture.

  “I’m talking about a segment that has been translated,” said Drizda. “I studied it while still barely a hatchling at our science academy. But the specific details are fuzzy. I can’t find any reference to it aboard y
our ship’s paltry library. No offense, but it is no science vessel.”

  “Do you think these things are some kind of Progenitor artifact?” asked Hamilton.

  Drizda shook her head. “Unclear. But the Progenitors might have known of them, and may have even developed a way to stop them.”

  “Or,” said Hamilton with a heavy sigh. “These things are what killed off the Progenitors.”

  Kuttner sat there nodding slowly for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You want to visit one of the Archives.”

  “Yes,” said Drizda.

  Hamilton leaned back in his chair. The Progenitor Archives were the only free standing remnants of Progenitor culture in existence. They were like giant floating monuments to that long-dead race, always parked in a planet’s Lagrange point in a star system that contained a Q gate. They had served as almost neutral territory during the war, with neither man nor Draconi wanting to so much as put a dent in one of them, though they couldn’t if they tried. The Archives were as tough as they looked.

  “Where’s the nearest Archive?” he asked Hamilton.

  “Archive Seven is in the Fomalhaut system,” said Hamilton. “But access is hard to get. There are research waiting lists parsecs long.”

  “I know that Archive’s administrator,” said Kuttner. “If she hasn’t retired by now. I’m sure she’ll make an exception for us in this case.”

  Hamilton nodded. “I’ll get us under way.” He stood up to leave.

  “Good,” said Kuttner. “While you’re at it, get the repair crews in overdrive. I want us ship shape for whatever’s coming next. And tell Cade to get the main gun back online. I have a feeling we’re going to need her.”

  “I will study the data I collected from the attack on us and the Odysseus,” said Drizda. “Perhaps it will give us more insight into what these things are and how to destroy them.”

  “Good,” said Kuttner. “Meeting adjourned.”

  He waited until Hamilton and Drizda had left, then opened up a tightbeam relay. He might be violating orders, but he still wanted to keep his old friend Admiral Sheldon advised on what they were doing. Perhaps it would keep League administration from declaring another war on the Draconi until they could figure out what was going on.

  Chapter Ten

  Sparring

  Lt. Commander Leda Niles raised her katana into ready position and waited for her attacker to do the same.

  The sword had been a gift from her father, who in turn had received it from a minor shogun on New Nippon. It had been made by that world’s finest swordsmith, and was truly a beauty to behold. The curved blade glinted brightly in the training room’s spots, and it was perfectly weighted and balanced. The bone handle was wrapped tightly with blue silk thread; she enjoyed the feel of it as she twirled the weapon in her left hand.

  It was wickedly sharp as well, being constructed of a nanocarbon steel alloy, something that hadn’t existed in feudal Japan on pre-Singularity Earth. It would never dull or need sharpening.

  Her sparring bot stepped into view four feet away and lifted its own sword, a scaled down, modern version of Leda’s weapon, designed and printed by Leda herself. The bot was a head shorter than Leda’s five foot eight. Its black carbon nanotube carapace glinted darkly in the light of the training room, making it look like some anthropomorphic beetle. Leda wasn’t as heavily protected, wearing only flexsteel pads on her chest, arms and legs. The bot was programmed for low impact sparring so it couldn’t really harm her, but accidents did happen, and the chance that she could be injured excited her, made it feel like a real battle.

  The Dragon War was over, but as a soldier she kept herself ready should such days return.

  Her ersatz attacker lunged forward, bringing its sword down in a smooth slicing motion that Leda easily countered, blocking its blade with her own.

  The next move was hers, and she came at her opponent fast, her blade scything through the air at her attacker, and it parried and blocked her just as quickly.

  Leda enjoyed these workout sessions. She longed for a flesh and blood sparring partner, but the bot’s AI learned more each time they fought, making it tougher to beat with every session. Now it was countering her almost move for move; time to change things up.

  Leda sidestepped her opponent’s latest sword thrust, getting inside its reach and delivering a swift side kick to its midsection, sending the bot sprawling on its back, its sword flying from its hand and sliding across the mat. Leda stood over it, her blade at the closest thing it had to a throat.

  “Point Lt. Niles, for the win,” it said in an emotionless metallic voice.

  Leda grinned. Her cochlear implant chimed.

  “Niles,” she said, panting.

  “This is Straker,” said her boss. “Meet me in my office in ten.”

  “Yes, sir”

  Her implant bleeped as the circuit closed. “Duty calls,” she said to the defeated sparring robot.

  It rose to its feet and retrieved its sword, then went and plugged itself into a charging crèche set into the far wall. Leda sheathed her own sword and headed for her quarters. If she hurried, she’d have time for a sonic shower before her impromptu meeting.

  Straker loved surprising her with meetings, inspections and any extra work he could find to dump in her lap. Her position wasn’t glamorous, but as administrative assistant to the head of Special Operations and the Fleet’s Chief Science Officer, Leda got to be involved in some interesting—and highly classified—work. Still, there hadn’t been a lot to do in the eighteen standard months since the war ended, and she had felt herself getting restless. Hopefully Straker had something more exciting for her to do than shuffle data flimsies.

  Leda stood before her boss’s door, freshly showered, wearing a clean white uniform worked in the black and white of Special Operations. Her brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she wore an officer’s cap on her head. She carried her slate in her left hand.

  Leda made a move to knock, but the door chimed and slid open. It was one of Straker’s more annoying habits to always somehow know when someone was at his door. Leda marched inside stiffly. Straker was big on protocol, at least among his subordinates. He stared up at her from behind his desk, his dark eyes taking in her presence.

  “Sit down, Lieutenant,” he said. As she sat in a molded plastic chair across from his desk, Straker opened a drawer with his left hand and inspected the contents. Then he reached in and selected a long cigar, placing it under his nose and sniffing it approvingly before snipping off the end and jamming it into his mouth. He flicked out an antique lighter and lit the end, filling the room with pungent smoke.

  Leda sat primly and tried to pretend the smoke didn’t bother her. Straker had no vices save this one, and believed smoking was one of the advantages of being planetside as opposed to the pure oxygen environment of a spaceship, where lighting up could prove deadly. The whole exercise was more of a strange affectation than a health hazard. The cigars were made of a non-carcinogenic synthetic tobacco the planet where Special Ops was headquartered was famous for.

  After a minute of puffing, his eyes on a spot in the far corner of the ceiling, Straker finally looked at her. “You’ve done great work here, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Leda knew that Straker didn’t give compliments casually.

  “I know things have been a bit slow since the war ended,” he said, exhaling harmless blue smoke to hang between them like a fog. “But things are picking up again. The mission of Special Operations has not only been R&D, but exploration.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir,” said Leda, wishing he would get to the point.

  “We’ve explored less than a tenth of our galaxy,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. “We’ve already found evidence of the Progenitors, and encountered the Draconi. Who knows what else is out there?”

  “I don’t know,” said Leda. “But I’d love to find out.”

  Straker nodded. “That’s good, Lieutenant. Because you’r
e going to have to make some hard choices in the coming days.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Are you aware that your old boyfriend, Commander Hamilton, is in a bit of trouble?”

  “What?” she said, leaning forward slightly. She stopped herself before saying, “When is he not in trouble?”

  Straker nodded. “It seems that the good commander and the captain of the Onslaught have decided to buck orders and are currently AWOL and possibly in possession of information regarding a superior alien race.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I just need to know where your loyalties lie,” said Straker.

  “With the Admiralty, of course,” she said without hesitation. “And to Special Operations.”

  Straker nodded. “That’s good to hear. I just want to make sure any personal feelings you might have don’t jeopardize our work here.”

  “No, sir,” said Leda. “What Commander Hamilton and I had died a long time ago.”

  Straker grinned around his cigar. “Good. Dismissed.”

  Leda got up and exited his office, but her head was filled with questions. What the devil was Straker talking about? Alien technology? And what the hell had Noah Hamilton gotten himself into now?

  Chapter 11

  The Archive

  Archive Seven was a massive black pyramid hovering in the L1 of a lifeless planetoid fifth out from its host sun. Hamilton had been aboard an Archive once before, but he still wasn’t prepared for the sheer size of it.

  The Archive was immense, bigger than all the pyramids of ancient Egypt put together. It dwarfed even the Onslaught. He looked at it, a shimmering, metallic black against the darker black of space, its pinnacle limned in starlight, and couldn’t help but feel hopelessly insignificant. A race that could build this, he reasoned, could snuff out his life as easily as he could step on an ant. And yet that race was long dead, while he was still here.

  Hamilton took a deep breath and smoothed his uniform front. He was here to complete a mission, not ponder the meaning of his existence.