by Britt Ringel
Every minute brought the ship 12ls closer to inevitable discovery. How will they react? Twist wondered. Are they even able to react?
“Seven light-minutes out, Captain,” Holt counted. “We have to be on the verge, sir.”
Twist confirmed his ship was at action stations. Although raising the shields was not possible with an active transmittance generator, the entire crew was on the knife’s edge between low-emissions and battle stations. “Steady as she goes, Mr. Fitts,” he ordered nervously.
He drummed his fingers on his chair arm console. When they react, we’ll have to wait seven minutes before we actually see them move. That ship can sail at point-three-five-C, so it could cover almost two and a half light-minutes before we’re even aware that we’ve been detected. Twist checked the chronometer. Thirty-five more minutes to reach it.
“August,” Kirkpatrick said from Twist’s left, “get your boarding party to the shuttle bay when we reach six light-minutes.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Quick replied. “They’re already formed up in the ship’s armory, half are kitted out with flame units, the other half with riot control weapons.”
During humanity’s brief encounter with the Parasites a decade ago, conventional multi-rifles proved next to worthless. Kite’s crew had improvised flamethrowers and cleverly fashioned laser-scatterers that split the single beam from lasers mounted on multi-rifles into dozens of smaller beams that collectively were far more effective against the tiny creatures. The briefings in Tarvos about Admiral Heskan’s ingenuity were hallmarked as the type of Brevic resourcefulness that would guarantee victory.
“I can’t believe we’ve gotten this close without a reaction,” Kirkpatrick admitted. “That ship must be dead.”
“Six light-minutes,” Holt stated. Stress etched through her normally calm voice.
“Commander Kirkpatrick, the boarding party is on its way to the shuttle hangar,” Quick said from his left. She reached through the open visor of her shocksuit helmet to wipe her brow.
Twist sat near the edge of his seat. He had been there for nearly half an hour. He considered the new type of warfare Pathfinder was experiencing. How can something so boring be so stressful?
Six more minutes passed without event.
“Activity!” Holt blurted loudly. “Large power spike inside the Parasite ship. It’s moving!”
“Battle stations,” Twist and Kirkpatrick ordered in unison. Twist added, “Is it moving toward us?”
Holt shot a hand upward to signal her captain to wait while keeping her eyes on her sensor panel. “T-Gen is powering down. Shields are going up.” She paused. “Um, it’s rotating, Captain. Away from us, sir.”
The optical bore out the truth in Holt’s words. The tiny, sleek ship’s bow was pointing roughly one hundred degrees to port, away from Pathfinder. A blue glow began to intensify from the ship’s numerous, jutting engines.
“It’s going to run, Captain,” Kirkpatrick predicted.
Twist tore his eyes away from the hypnotic optical and to the tactical plot. Pathfinder was still 2.8lm from her target. “Lieutenant Diallo, warm up a Javelin G.”
Diallo acknowledged and pecked commands into his weapons panel to feed targeting information to his lone missile crew.
Twenty seconds later, the effort became moot. The alien cutter on Pathfinder’s side screen shimmered briefly and then disappeared from normal space.
Holt groaned in frustration before announcing, “Tunnel disturbance…” She looked to Twist and shook her head. “It’s gone… dove out of the system toward Junction, sir.”
Twist stared at the now empty space around the tunnel point on the tactical screen. “It ran?” he muttered to himself.
“That’s not supposed to happen, Captain,” Kirkpatrick declared. “Intel said that those cutters were piloted by limited intelligence creatures that defaulted to their attack-and-ram technique upon encountering another ship.”
Twist removed his helmet. His hand instinctively found the scar near his chin. “Stand down the boarding party.”
“What does this mean, Captain?” Holt asked.
He leaned back into his chair and mused, “It means that in three days whatever Parasite forces are in Junction will know there’s a Terran ship here.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was slick with sweat despite the inaction. “Lucy, send an update to our buoy near the J-Three tunnel point. Fitts, let’s clear our course.” He worked his chair arm controls to make a waypoint on the tactical plot. “Maneuver us to here. It’s well outside standard detection radii and it’s off the bearing where that ship spotted us. We can use an incoming Parasite ship’s tunnel disturbance as a warning and engage t-stealth before they can sail close enough to detect us.”
“We’re supposed to orbit near the tunnel point, Captain,” Kirkpatrick reminded.
Twist nodded but answered irritably, “I know but the game has changed now and I won’t be caught flat-footed at the tunnel point if the Parasites come back with more ships.” He pointed at the tactical plot. “That spot will do, at least until the fleet arrives and then we’ll seek Admiral Davis’ guidance.”
“You know he’s going to have Pathfinder and Pioneer dive to the next system,” Holt said and then bit her lip.
Twist scowled. “And the Parasites will have had plenty of time to plan for us before we get there.”
Chapter 44
“I don’t see how this changes anything,” Admiral Davis declared over the fleet command frequency. His onscreen image looked briefly to the right before adding, “Our mission is to make contact with the Parasites, Captain Hunter.”
A muffled voice to Davis’ right spoke again. After a pause, Davis frowned and said, “Mr. Secretary, if you insist on interrupting my meetings every minute, let me just bring you into the channel.”
Seconds later, the wall screen in Pathfinder’s main briefing room added a nineteenth square containing Sebastian Brewer.
“Captain,” Brewer addressed Hunter directly, “I fully understand the implications of the events that transpired here in J-Two nearly a week ago but the parameters of our mission have not changed.”
Hunter spoke from his tiny square. “I know that we have a mission, sir, but our first contact with the Parasites proves that we’re either wrong about their tactics or that they’ve changed them.” He spoke pointedly to drive his meaning home. “They were supposed to sail straight toward Captain Twist and attack when they detected him, sir. They didn’t. They were supposed to travel in large swarms using pack tactics, sir. They didn’t. We may wish to reevaluate our plan.”
“No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” Twist said in support of both men.
Rather than raise his voice in anger, Brewer grew quiet. His speech grew slow as if speaking to a small child. “Captain Hunter, you volunteered for this mission. The Republic has given you the most advanced ship in the fleet, the product of nearly a decade of research and countless credits.” The secretary’s face was flushing red but his voice remained barely above a whisper. “I have given you everything required to fulfill this mission and now, you will give me your maximum effort, even in the face of great danger.” Brewer stared coldly into his camera aboard Docent. “You will Do. Your. Job.”
His square flashed out of existence, leaving only an uncomfortable silence.
After a beat, Davis filled the void. His mechanical tone made it clear the matter was closed. “The reconnaissance squadron will dive for Junction within the hour. As squadron commander, Captain Twist will determine which scout will dive back to J-Two to update the fleet while the second scout ship will observe and evaluate the Parasite presence, if any, in the next system.”
The admiral paused to collect his thoughts. “If no such presence exists, the scout will await the fleet. If there is a Parasite presence but of insufficient size to lead to the Commonwealth, the scout will unstealth to permit its detection and lead the small contingent of Parasite ships back to J-Two into our ambush. Once we�
��ve eliminated that force, we will continue forward with our mission. Finally, if there is a sufficient Parasite force present to accomplish our goals, the scout will avoid detection and await the fleet for further instructions.” Davis looked between the two scout ship captains. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir” was the only reply.
“Good. Then prepare for your journey, Captains. We will see you in a week.” Davis gave a curt nod to dismiss them before adding, “The rest of the Expeditionary Fleet’s captains will remain in channel. I want to discuss ambush tactics given the permanent features of this star system.”
* * *
The quiet hum on Pathfinder’s bridge had become all but indiscernible to Twist over the last weeks. His ship had been traveling for seventy hours inside the tunnel between J-2 and Junction and each passing hour brought his crew closer to their objective. Over the last three days, he had reviewed every past Parasite encounter, initially with his first officer and then his entire bridge crew. Although every sailor in the Expeditionary Fleet had been exhaustively briefed on each of Kite’s three Parasite combat actions, Twist’s obsession with the dozens of holo-logs documenting his quarry bordered on unhealthy.
The more he analyzed the records, the more he doubted that Garrett Heskan and his Republic think tank had drawn the correct conclusions. Mulling over the implications for his crew and his mission, he sucked at his lower lip until it was between his teeth. Ahead of him, Lieutenant Fitts was running a final check on Pathfinder’s tunnel drive.
Everyone just defaults to worship when it comes to Admiral Heskan, Twist considered as his thoughts returned to the Parasites. Maybe he demonstrated some real tactical genius in escaping what he encountered but that doesn’t mean we should just accept his assumptions about the whole race.
He thought of the treatise Heskan had authored five years ago. “The Parasite cutters demonstrated an utter lack of coordination and tactics, instead rushing blindly into battle under all circumstances. Thus, sound point defense tactics made short work of them, even when encountered in vastly superior numbers.”
However, the “numbers” did not match up. After a meticulous examination that redefined pedantic, Twist began to notice discrepancies in Heskan’s accounts. For example, according to official records, Heskan had ordered his last surviving frigate, BRS Bolt, to close upon a Parasite super-carrier in J-2. The battered frigate’s objective had been to either ram the massive enemy ship or detonate its power core in such proximity that the resulting explosion would render the carrier combat-ineffective. Twist had seen a still of the aftermath and was equal parts amazed and aghast at the destruction the frigate had inflicted. Yet despite such courageous sacrifice, Heskan had been forced to close with Kite to finish off the Parasite mothership.
Curiously though, Twist had discovered a misfiled after-action report buried in the Parasite information archives, hinting at the loss of a Republic ship in Perdita well before Bolt’s heroics. Kite’s first officer, a Lieutenant Stacy Vernay, who had temporarily assumed command of Kite in that system, authored the text.
“There was a slow but steady stream of alien cutters trailing from the tunnel point toward our assembly of ships. Though we were slowed, the combined fleet was still sailing toward the Iocaste tunnel point. The heavy cruiser was closest, at 4ls. Bolt was gone.”
Twist knew from other official accounts that the heavy cruiser was a Hollaran ship taken as a prize in the Helike action and had temporarily sailed in Heskan’s squadron with a skeleton Brevic crew. Records showed that HCS Phoenix was later self-destructed in Anthe by the Republic after a thorough examination by naval and civilian engineers. Bolt was gone. Twist repeated the seemingly innocuous line to himself. Where did it go? he wondered. Was the frigate just obscured from Kite’s sensors at the time? The apparent contradiction had wormed its way into the recesses of his mind, for if the records of the Parasites were inaccurate about Bolt’s disposition, what else might be wrong? What else might Garrett Heskan have hidden?
“Activating tunnel drive now, Captain,” Fitts stated while working his navigation panel.
Lost in thought, Twist was barely able to draw a breath before competing physics overwhelmed his senses. Seconds later, his world stopped spinning and he could once again focus his eyes on the system plot.
Junction’s hallmark was a rare K1V star that burned nearly as bright as humanity’s home sun. Its temperature created a zone of habitability nearer to the star than Sol’s but allowed for a moon orbiting the first gas giant to support life. The remaining seven planets in the system were clearly uninhabitable due to extreme temperatures or lethal atmospheres.
The single moon, however, burgeoned with signs of life. Despite being 67lm away, Pathfinder’s sensors could clearly make out enormous ships orbiting the blue and green satellite. Thousands of transmissions from the moon itself combined to form a garbled, unintelligible wave of communication to Pathfinder’s ears. Charted a decade ago during Kite’s passage, the five tunnel points of the major junction system were easily discernable by the scout ship.
Augmenting the icons of permanent features on the system plot, dozens of smaller, yellow symbols appeared a scant 7ls from the scout ship’s position. The number of symbols grew with every sensor update.
“Is the T-Gen up?” Kirkpatrick cried out in alarm.
A quick scan of the stealth screen indicated both Brevic scout ships had functioning stealth fields.
“We’re inside the Junction star system,” Fitts offered as an abbreviated post-dive report.
“Obviously we have contacts, Captain,” Holt added immediately after the navigator. Her report followed in short bursts like so much gunfire. “Seventy-two alien cutters at two-eight-four mark two. They’re seven light-seconds out; our stealth field went up four seconds after our dive but at this range...” She paused to type furiously on her console.
The system plot updated further. A second, thick cloud of yellow cutter symbols appeared 10lm away in a direct line toward the habitable moon. At the heart of the new contact was a symbol suggesting a ship much larger than a mere cutter but smaller than the super-carriers in orbit.
“Detecting more unknowns, Captain,” Holt reported. “They’re on the plot. Going to take a closer look at that sixth— Movement!” Her voice raised an octave. “The close-in ships are rotating toward our position!” She spun to face Twist with real fear in her eyes. “They’re reacting to us, Captain.”
Twist exchanged anxious glances with Kirkpatrick. “Lucy, get me Captain Hunter. Vix, get us moving and bring us to battle stations.”
Holt pointed at Twist while saying, “You’re on, sir.”
In the background, Twist heard Kirkpatrick ordering Pathfinder to her maximum speed of .28c on a heading directly away from the nearest threat. Captain Hunter’s image appeared on Twist’s chair arm screen. The grey-haired man’s eyes wore a hard resolve.
“I don’t see a way out of this fight, Captain,” Hunter assessed. “They’ll be on us before our tunnel drives recharge.”
“Agreed,” Twist said curtly. “Bring your ship to battle stations and prepare for point defense.” He glanced up at the wall screen. A tactical plot had supplanted the system display. Seventy-two cutter symbols were now blood red and closing. “Damn, no time for a missile shot. Turn to offer a port-side engagement.”
“Point defense active and tracking, Commander,” Diallo reported to Kirkpatrick in the background. “In range in eleven seconds.”
“Weapons free, Mr. Diallo,” Kirkpatrick authorized.
“Happy hunting, Adam. Talk to you after.” Twist terminated the connection and refocused on fighting his ship. Kirkpatrick had prepared Pathfinder for her first battle. The ship was racing out-system at almost a third the speed of light. She had rotated ninety degrees to face her port beam toward her pursuers to utilize each of her quad and twin dual pulse laser mounts. Pathfinder’s stealth generator was deactivated and her shields were fully formed and holding. A cursory check
told Twist that every section had readied up. There was little more to do than hope his gunners’ excellent performance during the exercises in Tarvos translated to actual battle.
Despite having his pick of the top ten percent of the active Brevic navy, most of his crew had never experienced battle. While all of his senior NCOs had some involvement in the Brevic-Hollaran War, those below the rank of petty officer third class had joined the navy after its defeat. Twist thought back to his first battle in Sponde. I was clueless, he judged critically. At least this time, my crew has been fully trained and honed by our exercises. The thought was small solace as he watched the swarm of cutters running Pathfinder down at the rate of 1ls every fourteen seconds.
The seventy-two alien cutters rushed at the twin scout ships with a closing speed of .07c. Their formation was little more than a tumorous mass of symbols on the tactical plot that flew in the same direction.
“Uh… Captain,” Holt stuttered from her station.
Diallo spoke over the sensorwoman. “Leading edge of the cutters entering five light-seconds now, Captain.” The weapons officer depressed several controls at once on his panel.
Pathfinder’s four laser batteries barked out charged energy as one. The spray moved at the speed of light toward the oncoming targets. Each battery recycled while gunners switched to new targets queued by the ship’s weapons directors. Two beats later, a second salvo was delivered toward alien ships that docilely accepted their impending obliteration. Five seconds after the first volley fired, eight cutters were swept from the board in a brutal stroke from the scout ships’ opening bursts. The slaughter repeated itself in two-second intervals.
