Kris rechecked the sensors. While she did, the blockage abruptly stopped as the geyser of planetary radiation weakened and then quit.
Working with feverish haste, Kris tried an infrared scan, but couldn’t spot a thing. The cloaking was good. If that really was a hidden spaceship I saw…
Kris switched the infrared scan and searched for magnetic anomalies. Ah-ha! There was a spike out there. It showed—
The commander bent forward sharply. The magnetic spike disappeared, as if someone had just figured out what she was doing and practiced countermeasures.
Kris’s heart rate accelerated. Who had a cloaked ship out there? Maybe she should figure out what kind of vessel was hiding there first.
Right. Given the scanty data, a mere outline, Kris ran an analysis. Seven seconds later, she stared at the readings. The computer gave a seventy-six percent probability that the craft belonged to the New Men. She’d seen a star cruiser.
The commander sat back, stunned. Could that be the same star cruiser I saw in the New Arabia System just before we jumped?
If so, did that mean the enemy vessel had been tracking them? Why else would a cloaked star cruiser be in the Karachi System? The reason seemed clear to her. The New Men didn’t want Osprey getting back to Earth with the news of the planet-killer.
Kris hurried to the piloting station and began immediate evasive maneuvers. As she did, the commander put the ship on red alert.
Five minutes later, the control room door slid open. Lieutenant Artemis hurried in, still buttoning her uniform.
Kris vacated the piloting chair, going back to sensors.
“Is the star cruiser coming after us?” Artemis asked.
“I can’t tell,” the commander answered. “The vessel is cloaked.”
“Star Watch’s cloaked ships give themselves away if they try to move at speed,” Artemis said.
“I understand,” Kris said. “But this is a New Men vessel. Undoubtedly, it’s better at what it does.”
Artemis said no more on the subject. Despite the hard acceleration to get farther away from Karachi 7 and the cloaked star cruiser, the frigate jinked in one direction and then another. The excess Gs would be straining the crew. Soon, the violent maneuvers were going to stress the little ship.
A Star Watch station orbiting Karachi 7 beamed a message, asking what was wrong. The station was over one million kilometers from the gas giant and thus well out of the star cruiser’s present range.
Kris had already sent them the data about a cloaked vessel. Were the station personnel too dense to understand what that meant or did they not believe her?
“I repeat,” Kris said, “I have spotted a cloaked, enemy star cruiser at ten-sixteen-eight on your Vaster scale. It was right beside the gas giant.”
“We checked the location,” the station comm-officer said. “There’s nothing out there.”
“Did you read my data?”
“Yes. The blockage you state as your evidence is a routine occurrence, Commander. You’re spooking at ghosts. I suggest you relax. This is a safe star system, far from the action of ‘C’ Quadrant.”
“Keep checking for a cloaked vessel,” Kris said, stung by the comm-officer’s rebuke. “Try magnetic sweeps. That worked for me a few minutes ago.”
There was a pause in communications. Likely, the comm-officer checked with her superior officer. “Thank you, Commander, we will continue to do checks on a routine schedule.”
“Idiots,” Artemis muttered. “Don’t they believe you?”
Kris kept her opinion to herself even after signing off. There had always been a bit of a gap between Patrol officers and regular line personnel, especially those on station duty.
Kris kept scanning Karachi 7, trying to find the cloaked vessel. She knew what she’d seen. No one was going to convince her differently.
Time passed as the frigate headed for the Laumer-Point.
“Commander,” Artemis said fifteen minutes later, with fear in her voice. “You’d better look at this.”
Kris tore her tired gaze from the sensor board to look up at the main screen.
“Magnetic readings out there just spiked,” Artemis said.
Kris frowned. “Put the readings on the screen.”
Artemis complied.
Kris studied the numbers. That didn’t match what she’d seen near Karachi 7. How had the star cruiser leapt ahead of them, and so far? It made no sense whatsoever. That was over half a million kilometers away from the ship, given their distance from Karachi 7—
“Commander, the spike is increasing.”
The number on the screen flickered to greater and greater length. Maybe that wasn’t the cloaked vessel. But what could make magnetic readings like that?
Abruptly, Kris twisted back to her sensor board. She tapped fast, scanning the area. The magnetic readings grew exponentially. Then, they burst forth even faster. Before her eyes, an ion storm simply appeared out of nowhere.
Icy fear gripped Kris’s heart. “I want full deceleration!”
“What?” Artemis asked.
“Now! Give me full deceleration.” Kris opened frigate-wide channels and told everyone to strap in. When she looked up, Artemis still hadn’t reacted. “This is an emergency, Lieutenant. I want full stop, full stop. I want Osprey dead in space.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Artemis said weakly.
“Don’t you understand?” Kris shouted. “The doomsday machine is coming through. Do you think we can outrun it or go around? No! It will block our path to the Laumer-Point. We have one chance, and I’m going to take it. Full stop, Lieutenant. That is an order.”
“Yes, Commander,” Artemis said, her fingers tapping fast.
Osprey rotated so the main engines aimed in the ship’s direction of travel. Then, Artemis tapped her board once more. Full thrust roared from the engine ports. It pushed Kris against her chair as the G forces slammed home.
The commander kept her eyes glued to the sensors nonetheless. As the small Patrol frigate decelerated, a vast, planetary-sized magnetic storm swirled into existence with astonishing speed. Soon, long, recognizable, purple bolts sizzled from the storm.
Kris recorded the spatial-temporal phenomenon, wondering if she would ever get to share this with anyone.
Artemis moaned with dread.
Kris felt sick as she saw it. She’d been hoping that she had been wrong about this. The doomsday machine, with its signature neutroium hull, came through a dark portal inside the magnetic storm. What form of transfer was that? Why did it cause the massive ion storm?
“We have to get out of here,” Artemis declared.
“No,” Kris said. “Can’t you see? Don’t you understand? The planet-killer is blocking our route to the Laumer-Point. I doubt we can get past it. Remember what it did to the Wahhabi warships?”
“So we just stop out here in front of it?” Artemis asked.
“If we can stop fast enough I think we might have a chance,” Kris said. It was a long-shot, and she had no idea if it would work or not.
Kris made some quick calculations. Did the magnetic storm transfer cause Jump Lag on the doomsday machine? She was betting it did. But Osprey still wasn’t going to stop fast enough.
“We need more thrust,” Kris said.
Artemis didn’t argue this time. She tapped the piloting board.
Even greater G forces slammed against the commander. Osprey began to tremble due to the strain. Kris struggled to remain alert, as the blood pounded inside her skull. Her arms felt glued to the rests of her chair.
The minutes ticked away in growing agony.
Soon, Kris’s head felt too heavy and her eyeballs hurt. Even so, she studied the massive ship blocking the way to the Laumer-Point. She spied the giant orifice that contained the planet-killing ray. With the beam, the doomsday machine had annihilated the majority of the Wahhabi Home Fleet. What chance did a small Patrol frigate have against it?
The doomsday machine was so ponderous, so h
uge. Who had built it? Why make such a thing?
“Has it come here to destroy everything in the Karachi System?” Kris asked quietly.
“Damn them,” Artemis said.
The ion storm swirled into the dark opening. It began disappearing, although that took longer than it had to come into existence.
We’re in a race, Kris thought. If this will even work.
“Give our declaration a final surge,” Kris said.
Artemis struggled to tap the board, but she made it. The engines whined, and the deck plates trembled.
Kris’s eyesight dimmed due to the Gs. Then, it happened. The small frigate was seconds away from coming to a full stop in space.
“Get ready,” Kris shouted. “Now, do it now. Cut the engine, and then cut all power everywhere. Go to silent running.”
Artemis tapped the board, and the horrible whine cut out. She continued to tap and the lights dimmed. All over the small frigate, heating, air-cycling and other systems shut down. The fusion engine went offline. Osprey would use battery power for a time, and only enough to keep them alive.
The frigate was a tiny mote in space, hotter than any nearby matter. It would no longer have the readings of a normal running spaceship, though, or a space station, and certainly not that of a planet.
Five minutes after the frigate ceased movement and shut down, the doomsday machine had a sharp energy spike. Kris knew that could only mean one thing. She kept passive sensors on. She wanted to record everything she could for future reference.
The comm light blinked then. Kris glanced at the screen. The Star Watch station was hailing the frigate. The line personnel must have changed their minds over there. Surely, they recognized the fifty-kilometer vessel for what it was. She had given them the video footage of Al Salam’s death. Was she honor bound to answer the call and tell them what to do?
No. Someone had to survive. That’s what a good Patrol officer did. They watched and recorded to tell others later what had happened.
The comm light continued to blink.
Soon, the doomsday machine’s orifice sparkled with a strange energy.
“No,” Artemis whispered.
On Osprey, they recorded with passive sensors as the terrible beam speared from the doomsday machine. Seconds later, the beam batted aside the Karachi 7 space station’s puny shield. The massive beam burned through the station’s weak hull armor. After that, the beam smashed the metal and crew down to its molecular components. A blob of molten metal and fired flesh existed where the space station had only seconds ago. Another second, and even the blob ceased to exist as the massive beam disintegrated everything down to its base atoms.
Just like that, the space station was gone. The light no longer blinked on Kris’s comm.
Finally, the monstrous beam stopped. Ponderously, the planet-killer sent out harsh sensor rays, no doubt seeking other life in the star system.
Kris held her breath. Would the alien sensors recognize them in the frigate? This was the moment of truth. In her piloting chair, Artemis wept silently, although she kept her eyes glued to her controls.
The giant planet-killer accelerated, heading deeper in-system.
Time passed aboard the Patrol frigate. Finally, the monster passed them.
“How long do we wait?” Artemis asked.
Kris wanted to see what the doomsday machine would do. They waited hours, half a day and then a full twenty-four hours. The big alien machine kept building velocity until it was moving fast. Finally, they saw the terrible planet-killer strike at Karachi 6, beaming the habitable domes on the airless surface.
Afterward, the commander witnessed something new. The fifty-kilometer vessel moved close to the planet as it decelerated harder than it had accelerated. It began feeding off the planetary debris, using a tractor beam to bring radioactive isotopes inside the ship.
“Why’s it doing that?” Artemis asked.
“I have an idea,” Kris said. “The vast expenditure of energy to power the beam must demanded prodigious replenishment. I bet it takes time to rebuild to maximum capacity.”
“Look, it’s moving again. Is it heading for Karachi 3?” That was an Earthlike world.
“It’s time we went to the Laumer-Point,” Kris said. “Once the thing has reached peak energy levels, it might head to Earth next. We can’t waste any more time,” Kris said. “Go.”
Artemis obeyed. The fusion engines came back online, as did normal ship systems. Soon, Osprey accelerated for the Laumer-Point.
In the meantime, the giant doomsday machine gained velocity as it continued in-system for Karachi 3.
“What a horrible thing for those on the planet,” Artemis said. “To know you’re doomed and there’s nothing—”
A red beam speared out of space ahead of them. It caused the cloaked star cruiser that had fired the fusion ray to appear on the main screen. Sight of the beam and enemy ship had caused the pilot to stop talking.
The beam struck Osprey’s weak shield, turning it a dark color.
“I’d forgotten about the star cruiser,” Kris said. “Put all power to the shield. I’ll try to hail them.”
The enemy didn’t reply. Instead, it poured the fusion beam against them until the shield collapsed. Instantly, the beam stabbed against the hull armor. That lasted an even shorter amount of time.
Soon, the beam smashed through bulkheads, tearing into living compartments, killing people, and digging into the ship. Finally, it reached the fusion engine.
“Abandon ship,” Kris shouted into the intercom. It was her last order as the commander of the Patrol frigate. Then she and Artemis sprinted out of the control room, racing to the nearest escape pod.
The corridor shuddered. Air howled and the entire ship shook as it began to tear apart under the brutal beam.
Artemis stumbled, falling onto the shivering deck plates. Kris hauled the pilot to her feet. Together, they staggered. Metal crashed behind them. The howling noises were deafening, making speech impossible. Fires burned and smoke poured into the corridor. Both the commander and the pilot coughed explosively.
At last, Kris staggered to an emergency hatch. She tried it, but it was stuck fast. Balling her hands into fists, she banged at it.
Heat billowed down the corridor due to the enemy beam. Clouds of matter raced at them.
Kris turned the handle and yanked open the hatch. She shoved Artemis down the tube and followed a second later.
Heat followed too, but the emergency procedures saved them for the moment. Kris and Artemis landed on acceleration couches in a tiny escape pod.
Each officer donned a mask. Then, Kris stabbed a switch. Violent acceleration hurled them from the disintegrating Osprey. The escape pod tumbled away into space as the frigate exploded, hurling debris in all directions.
The fusion beam from the star cruiser quit. The pieces from the former Patrol vessel were drifting junk now. No other escape pods made it out of the ship in time.
Kris and Artemis tumbled over and over in the pod. They stared at each other.
“I never thought it would end like this,” Artemis said.
“No,” Kris said.
Then, the tumbling stopped, throwing each of them against the straps holding them in place.
“What happened?” Artemis asked. “That isn’t natural.”
Kris pressed a switch, bringing up a small control board. She tapped it. That turned on a tiny screen.
Artemis stared wide-eyed. “I don’t know if this is good or bad.”
Kris didn’t know either. A tractor beam pulled them toward the star cruiser. The enemy had decided to save their lives. Why would the New Men do that?
The commander shuddered. Was this worse than death?
-29-
After a long and arduous journey there and back again, Starship Victory finally came through the Pluto Laumer-Point. The Adok starship had returned to the Solar System.
Maddox recovered from Jump Lag first. He used the time to study the Solar Sys
tem. An initial analysis showed him the Earth was still intact. He slumped back against his chair. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d dreaded the doomsday machine beating them home.
One by one, the others recovered. Only Valerie and Galyan were on the bridge with Maddox, though. The starship began to accelerate for the distant blue-green planet far in the inner system.
“This is weird,” Valerie said to herself. “Pluto Command is ordering us to stop for inspection.”
A premonition of trouble caused Maddox to stand up. He moved closer to the main screen. Pluto was two hundred thousand kilometers away. The armored station was in orbit there, always keeping behind the iceoid in relation to the Laumer-Point. It was the most basic defense against jump-nukes, using the planet to shield the station personnel from a thermonuclear blast. Relay satellites around Pluto bounced the signal to Victory.
“Tell Pluto Command I have an urgent message for Star Watch HQ,” Maddox said.
Valerie did just that. Afterward, she listened to the response. The lieutenant turned around. “I think you’d better look at this, sir.” She tapped her board.
The main screen showed deep space instead of Pluto. Maddox spied ten battleships six hundred thousand kilometers out. They were on an obvious intercept course with them.
“Are they serious?” Maddox said to himself.
“Very,” Valerie said. “Pluto Command is ordering us to stand down and wait for boarding.”
“Put him onscreen,” Maddox said.
“Her,” Valerie said, while tapping her board. “Commodore Kinshasa of Pluto Command is live, sir.”
An older woman appeared on the screen. She had dark hair and darker skin, with a commodore’s uniform and bars.
“Captain Maddox,” Kinshasa said. “You are failing to comply with an authorized Star Watch order. Why is that?”
“Do you know who I am?” Maddox asked.
Kinshasa’s manner became stark. “I am well aware of you, Captain. It is why I have my orders. I am instructed to tell you to board a shuttle and head at once for Pluto Command.”
The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3) Page 25
