by Britt Ringel
“That takes us right to the edge of the Beta Field,” Wheellock noted. “We’re not entering it, are we?”
Brewer shook his head. “The frigates will hold station right at the inner edge of the Beta Field.”
“Mr. Secretary.” It was Docent’s captain. “What will the destroyers be doing during this?”
New course lines sprouted on the side screen. “When the frigates leave us, we will set course immediately for waypoint Beta and enter the asteroid field. The interference from the promethium will wreak havoc with Parasite sensors. Once inside, we will reduce speed and sail… here.” A third waypoint, Gamma, appeared 45ls from where the destroyers would initially penetrate the asteroid field.
“That hangs the frigates out to dry,” Stone observed.
“There will be only twenty-four cutters shadowing us at a range of twelve light-minutes. I’m confident that your squadron can handle them if they decide to attack. The main body of the Parasite fleet is roughly thirty-five light-minutes from us. That gives you plenty of time to rig the mining outpost and reach the edge of the Beta Field.”
“True,” Stone admitted, “but why not just hide the fleet in the Beta Field? Why not avoid engagement completely?”
Brewer’s eyes came to rest on the frigate captain. Threats and fear won’t be enough this time, Sebastian. These people need a reason to fight. “Hide until when?” He leaned forward as if closing the distance to the man on the wall screen. “Get this through your head, Captain. Help is not coming and the Parasites maintained a presence in J-Three for the last ten years because that was the system where they lost human contact. They waited, patiently, for a decade for us to come back to them. They aren’t leaving Skathi even if they can’t find us and the only way we are leaving is once we’ve eliminated all traces of Parasite life from this star system.”
A wave of defeat eroded the last, tattered remnants of hope across the wall screen. Brewer sat back in his chair, assessing the morale among his captains. He had been ordered on suicide missions earlier in his life. He had ordered agents on suicide missions later in it. Those agents didn’t need pep talks. They were indoctrinated, just like I was. We weren’t fanatics but we understood the significance of our mission, the importance of the security of the Republic. His eyes swept across the wall screen. The twelve faces were very different but each held the look of a person struggling to process approaching death. “What am I dying for?” That’s what they are asking you, Sebastian.
Brewer poured reassurance into his voice as he spoke. “We’ve all sworn to defend the Republic but I realize that oath doesn’t give you much comfort when facing the kind of odds we face now.” He ventured a wayward smile. “If there was some way I could get us to Narvi undetected, I’d take it,” he confided. “I don’t want to die fighting these horrible things either.” He looked each captain in the eye, willing them to see the truth in his confession. He let the volume of his voice raise slightly. “But I’m willing to die defending our homes. I’m willing to stand up and fight against these creatures so that the children living in the next star system don’t have to. Make no mistake; the Parasites do not see a difference between combatants and civilians.”
He swiped his hand over his console. The Skathi system plot was replaced with a star chart of the Brevic northern sector. “We could run,” Brewer stated. “We have speed and distance to run from the enemy.”
Population counts materialized along the tunnel chain from Skathi to Anthe. Fourteen million people lived in Narvi. Forty-two million lived in Tarvos. Five hundred million lived in Anthe.
“And in our wake,” Brewer continued, “we would condemn over half a billion people to fight a battle that should have been fought here in Skathi. Hundreds of millions of children would serve as our personal shields against the Parasites.”
Brewer pressed a finger hard into the tabletop. “That is not who we are,” he stated adamantly. “We will protect our families from here. We fight so they won’t have to. The oath you took over a decade ago and the one I took a lifetime ago isn’t a noose around our necks. It’s our pathway to salvation.”
Captain Stone’s shoulders sagged but the man nodded in acceptance. A grim determination began to take hold. “Okay, we all knew the possibilities when we agreed to this. I lead the frigates to the Beta Field. What happens next?”
Chapter 52
Brewer’s fleet destroyers hid 6ls behind the wall of interference generated by the Beta Field. Despite being less than two million kilometers inside the promethium-rich belt, each ship’s sensor crew worked slavishly to maintain a semblance of tactical awareness beyond the field’s edge. Only Docent, a scant 3ls inside the field, had a semi-discernible view.
The Parasite fleet remained consolidated even after Brewer ordered the division of his destroyers and frigates. Once his seven-ship squadron dipped into the upper, inner edge of the Beta Field, the Parasites had altered course to intercept the frigate squadron holding along the perimeter of the field, 45ls away.
Just when Brewer believed the Parasites would overlook the vacant mining outpost orbiting Skathi-3, a single Parasite destroyer accompanied by forty cutters detached from the enemy fleet and burned its drives for a graveyard orbit at the planet. Docent calculated the time required for the Parasites to travel and rendezvous with the mining station. Fifteen minutes were added to account for a signal’s travel between Brewer’s ship and the outpost. He added another ten-minute buffer to the final tally as a safety factor.
Arquebus’ engineers had labored nonstop for two hours to awaken the station’s gigantic power cores. The orbital platform, owned by Renard Mining Enterprises, should have been removed from the system over a decade ago but credits and the tug slated to tow it had never aligned. The effort to bring the dormant station to life had been nearly thwarted by the apparent and mysterious scavenging of many critical engineering components. However, Stone’s engineers revived the outpost an hour before the deadline to break orbit for the Beta Field.
During the restoration process, the twenty-four cutters trailing the frigates at 12lm had paused their chase, content to let the Terran fleet orbit Skathi-3 in peace. When the frigates resumed their course for the asteroid field, the tiny ships mirrored their actions like shadows.
That changed once it became clear the frigates might disappear into the Beta Field like so many ghosts. Already, the Parasite fleet had lost contact with Brewer’s destroyer squadron and when it seemed the aliens would lose all contact with their prey, cutter drives accelerated forward in an intercept bid. They would be successful, Brewer knew. In fact, the frigates would orbit just outside the Beta Field to remain obtainable targets.
“Destruct signal away,” a sensor officer informed. “Twenty-eight minutes until overload.”
Brewer nodded, satisfied. The detached Parasite destroyer and its own cutter escorts were already nearing orbit with the planet. He wondered if the cutters would ram the station. The secretary had seen the holo-logs of Parasite cutters ramming Brevic ships but the station would be unprecedented. He had heard Garrett Heskan’s eyewitness accounts describing the impossible procedure. Heskan’s late chief engineer had theorized that a Force-Two nullifying field somehow tampered with the opposite and equal reactions law to permit ramming their opponents without the catastrophic consequences that normal physics demanded. That same field also accounted for the incredible speeds of their ships.
If we could capture and reproduce that technology, we’d become the dominant force among the major powers, Brewer thought wistfully. Sadly, we are beyond dreams such as that. He turned his attention to the cutters chasing his frigates. The detachment remained defiantly outside the interference zone of the Beta Field. Those twenty-four cutters should be no match for them.
Thirteen minutes later, Brewer’s sentiment was confirmed. A furious six-second battle was all that was required to extinguish the small Parasite vanguard without loss. Brewer leaned back at the battle’s conclusion. He looked at the mass of s
ymbols 9lm from the Beta Field. What will you do? he asked the Parasites. Even now, his frigates were firing their thrusters to push tantalizingly closer to the edge of the asteroid field, threatening to disappear from Parasite sensors. Will you take the bait?
He had watched for nearly a half an hour for indications of a reaction before the light from the exploding outpost reached Docent. A flag bridge side screen had been focused on the mining station and the brilliant flare cast bright light across the faces of the crew. Brewer squinted at the optical with satisfaction. The Parasite destroyer and her cutters, orbiting less than a light-second from the outpost, were gone.
“Targets negated,” Michaels confirmed. “There are some pieces but nothing remotely large enough to be habitable.”
Smiles broke out over the bridge crew. An enthusiastic officer muttered, “One down.”
Brewer let them have their moment. The destruction of the destroyer was certainly a boon but, most importantly, the navigation data and star charts onboard that outpost were now safely beyond the reach of the enemy. He returned his attention to the hazy, distorted sensor returns of the main Parasite fleet. It was tempting to move Docent closer to the edge of the asteroid field for a more accurate view but his plan counted on his destroyers’ absence. The Parasites must believe my frigates are the last chance at the apple. Will they take a bite?
He received his answer a minute later. On the tactical plot, the Parasite fleet elongated into anarchy as the smaller consorts tore the formation apart. Over ten thousand cutters raced forward to lead the charge toward the frigates. In their wake, five of the nine remaining destroyers also pushed to higher velocities. The five super-carriers maintained their presumed top speed of .25c with a reduced escort of four destroyers and six hundred cutters.
Brewer watched the Parasite ships until the carriers were 5.5lm from the asteroid field. The extended, teardrop formation of the cutters and destroyers rushed forward. Their goal was clear: intercept the frigates before they entered the Beta Field and were lost to the field’s radiation. It was a fool’s errand, the frigates were scant light-seconds from the edge but just as Brewer hoped, the Parasite command structure’s first instinct was to rush toward their enemy.
“Two minutes, Mr. Secretary,” announced Michaels.
“Bring them up, Commander. Line abreast. You have weapons-free authorization,” Brewer ordered in sequence. “Fire when ready.”
From within the Beta Field, Pepperbox, Smoothbore, Howitzer, Minigun, Hotchkiss and Parrott began their thrusts forward to take station next to Docent. The Terran destroyers formed a firing line and then activated their drives in unison to step free of the asteroid belt. As the lethal ships emerged from the crushing interference zone, each warship rotated majestically to present firing arcs toward the enemy. Duralloy-covered missile portals split open like awakening eyes. Behind the alloy eyelids, hazy, red containment fields glared angrily at Skathi’s invaders.
The Expeditionary Fleet destroyers each housed six missile ports. As one, forty-two Javelin-G missiles erupted from Imperatrice launchers and into space. In between eye-blinks, each Javelin’s launch thruster burned out and its main drive activated. After fighting off the crushing forces of acceleration to reach half the speed of light, the missiles needed several more seconds to correct their course toward their quarry.
Containment fields reengaged and the next brace of missiles was magnetically guided into their launchers. Twenty seconds after the first volley, a second spewed forth. The process repeated and a third salvo left the Terran fleet in a dazzling flash of light.
Gravity warhead-equipped missiles poured from the firing line. One hundred twenty-six Javelins were loosed every minute. After less than five, hectic minutes, the magazines ran dry and the alloy eyes of the warships closed slowly as if exhausted from their efforts.
By the time the portals were secure, the missiles of the first volley had already covered half of the 5lm distance to their targets. Brewer hastily ordered his squadron back into the Beta Field. Once he was sure his destroyers were concealed, he would order Docent closer to the perimeter to bear witness to their attack. At the final volley, the Parasites had already reacted to the squadron’s presence by directing the carrier force toward Brewer’s firing line. On a reciprocal course, five hundred seventy-four Javelin-G missiles screamed toward the aliens who were only now detecting the incoming fire.
Brewer allowed himself a twisted smile. He had executed the trap perfectly. The Parasite capital ships had but two options. They could continue their pursuit of the newly detected human destroyers and face a point defense against the incoming missiles at a closing speed topping three quarters the speed of light, or they could reverse course to reduce the closing speed but give up all hope of maintaining contact with the ships that had ambushed them.
The only flaw in my plan, Brewer mused, is that I’m now out of missiles. We should have carried more, but then, what we carried should have been enough. We never knew the Parasites were capable of point defense. Hell, we didn’t even know they had space-borne weaponry. He thought of his debriefings with Garrett Heskan. You were wrong about them, Garrett. You told us that these things weren’t interested in space dominance. You said they are masters of planetary invasion and that’s where they dedicated their resources. He shook his head crossly as he thought of the military cutters and the destroyers with their massive, mystery weapon. What else did we get wrong?
The inverted “v” symbols of the Brevic missile attack were rapidly approaching the Parasite carrier force. To Brewer’s surprise, the Parasites never reversed course. The indifference to the wave of missiles contradicted any sense of self-preservation. How can there be such utter disregard for their lives?
From beginning to end, the Brevic missile attack stretched 2.5lm. The Parasite non-reaction meant that both ships and missiles were charging directly toward each other. The missile defense action, typically lasting ten or more minutes against a Hollaran fleet, flashed by in less than four minutes.
Furthermore, the consorts of the super-carriers barely adjusted their formation. They maintained an unorganized grouping that raced toward the enemy rather than maximize overlapping fields of fire for self-protection.
Each Parasite ship released a single shot as the Brevic missiles entered range. Among the four destroyers and six hundred cutters, the defensive action, more accurately described as an afterthought, felled two hundred ninety-one targets.
The remaining two hundred eighty-three missiles flashed by the teardrop formation of smaller ships and locked onto the behemoths behind them. Travel from 10ls to impact took only thirteen seconds. During that time, the super-carriers took no action.
The moments of impact passed too quickly for the human eye. On Docent, a flag officer preemptively dimmed the optical of the leading super-carrier, anticipating its destruction. The screen brightened but not overwhelmingly so. When the flare subsided, Brewer felt his jaw drop open.
The super-carrier survived. Obvious signs of damage cratered its bow and beams but the ship remained largely intact. Brewer’s eyes shifted to the tactical plot. He counted two carrier symbols. Disappointment scorched its way through his body. We killed only three? he asked, refusing to believe the outcome. The missile attack had bloodied but not turned the wave of Parasites. Already, the leading edge of the cutters was barely 3lm from his ship. “Damage estimate,” Brewer requested.
“Three kills,” Michaels reported. “The other two took hits… one is damaged heavily.”
“How many hits did the kills take?” asked an officer behind Brewer.
“Um…” The commander studied his data. “Roughly sixty, seventy apiece. We don’t know how much of that was overkill. One of the remaining carriers took thirty-one hits and the last, just eleven.”
“Why did so many of our missiles strike the same carriers?” Brewer asked.
Michaels shrugged. “It’s possible that those super-carriers are so big that the Javelin sensors don’t see one
as a single point source.” He tilted his head to one side and put on a brave face. “Three, maybe four are out of action.”
Brewer grunted. The man was both wrong and right. The immediate threat was certainly the cutters and destroyers bearing down on his fleet elements but his primary concern remained the ships that seemed to comprise the decision-making body of the Parasite fleet. Garrett Heskan defeated the Parasites in J-Three and they never tunneled closer to us over the last decade. Will the same hold true here? Will they wait, passively, in Skathi, unaware of how close they are to humanity? He looked at the vexing carrier symbols. Or will the things in those two ships press on? Besides Skoll, there’s only the Narvi tunnel point leading out of Skathi. He tried to swallow away the doubt. Just do the best you can. As long as we don’t show them the way, they don’t seem anxious to find it themselves. Thank God Pathfinder dove for Narvi before the Parasites entered the system.
The cutters had drawn another 21ls closer. Wake up, Sebastian. “Order the squadron to waypoint Gamma.” He studied the tactical plot. Many of the symbols on the display were frozen, lost contacts due to interference. Still, he was certain the cutters were pursuing at a blistering .35c. Their destroyers would not be far behind. He knew he had to flee quickly but the navigation hazards inside the Beta Field were substantial. “Squadron speed is… dammit, make it point-zero-six-C.”
His ships would be little more than crawling away from a force that was thundering toward them. Now is not the time to panic, Sebastian. Our sensor capability in the Beta Field is fractions of what it is normally and if we sail faster than we can react, we could easily collide with one of our own ships, a Parasite cutter or even an asteroid. He watched the tiny symbols bearing down on him. We can’t outrun them anyway.
Docent and her consorts spent the next seven minutes carefully picking their way through the Beta Field. The overwhelming sensor interference gave the flagship a reliable sensor range of less than 3ls. Only the briefest of glimpses were available beyond the small shell around the Brevic destroyers. The formation had condensed with its sensor capability. Docent occupied the same position in the center but the six other destroyers had closed ranks to sail within 2ls of their flagship. Once proper spacing had been established, each ship rotated to face the tide of onrushing, incorporeal sensor contacts.
