Even though the Threshold appeared to be finished, the battle was not. A brisk missile exchange was followed by a round of Scion torpedoes from Sarissan cruisers, most of which were either intercepted or missed their marks.
“The Massang seem to have discovered how to counter your Scions,” remarked Captain Daemon.
Pettigrew conceded the point. “They’ve had three years to figure it out. I’ll have to ask Governor Sturka about that.”
“Admiral, what are they doing?” asked Daemon. “It seems that half of the enemy force in front of us is beginning to fall back, and the other half is advancing to close distance on us.”
Daemon was correct. Many of the enemy ships were employing reverse thrusters, moving backward toward the Threshold complex. For the most part, they were ships which had taken moderate to light damage. The Vanguard vessels which had taken the most severe damage were engaged in a wild rush toward Swoboda’s Group.
“David, I don’t like this,” Pettigrew called out to Typhoon’s bridge. “This looks like a suicide run.”
There was a sudden commotion in front of Pettigrew at the engineering station. Mullenhoff slammed her fist down hard into the arm of her chair.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she cursed. “Damn it, Carty, what in the hell is going on?”
“What is going on, Commander?” asked Pettigrew in a sharp voice.
Before she could respond, Aoki blurted out what Mullenhoff was loath to reveal.
“Admiral, all of the Massang phase inhibitors just went dark. Hyperspace bubbles are forming all over the place. The Vanguard warships are getting ready to jump out of the system.”
“Enemy vessels jumping!” shouted a watchkeeper as the main tactical map was enlarged for all to see. Orange icons marking enemy ships flashed gray, then disappeared one by one. Within seconds, half of the enemy icons had vanished from the display, including most of the warships directly in front of Battle Group Swoboda.
The flag bridge was still as personnel quietly tried to figure out what happened. Most people kept their heads down, averting the eyes of the senior staff.
“Report,” Pettigrew said numbly after a short period of stunned silence.
Nyondo blew out a frustrated breath. “Eighty-four enemy vessels have jumped, sir, including most of the surviving Vanguard warships.”
“What ships are still in system?”
“Some of the arkships, various freighters and support vessels, but mostly smaller escort ships. Most of them are calling in to offer their surrender—to Governor Sturka, sir.”
A red-faced hologram materialized in front of Pettigrew, but it wasn’t Sturka. It was an embarrassed Lieutenant Commander Carty, chief of the Cyber Warfare Section.
“Admiral, I accept full responsibility. I… I don’t know what to say, sir.”
Pettigrew checked an impulse to rip into the man. “Commander, right now I’m more interested in understanding what just happened rather than who to pin the blame on. I thought we had hacked those phase inhibitors. You told me we controlled the off switch.”
“I thought we did, sir,” said Carty, his posture slumping. “It seems that the Massang knew we were trying to hack them all along, so they led us down a false path and let us think we were successful. We thought we had control, but didn’t. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Commander Carty,” began Pettigrew. He really wanted to chew the man out, but he just didn’t have it in him right now. “Commander, investigate how this all happened and make a full report to Captain Nyondo. Dismissed.”
There was an old Earth saying: ‘Little thieves are hanged, but great ones escape.’ Harradoss had slipped the noose, taking over eighty warships with him to—who knew where? It was impossible to track someone in hyperspace, and so the war would continue.
Pettigrew glanced over at Denlora Aoki and even under the circumstances, he couldn’t help but grin. “Well, Lieutenant—at least you are still with us.”
Aoki looked surprised, raising her hand to touch her cheek as if to confirm Pettigrew’s observation. “Yes, sir. I guess I am.”
22: Becalmed
Sarissan battleship Typhoon
Cor Caroli system
Engagement plus Thirty Hours
“It could be that the Otherverse just reset to a reality without the Adversary,” speculated Marius as he clung to his seat. A Lytori-style chair had been provided, but the android admiral chose to prop himself up on one of the human chairs in Typhoon’s main conference room. He had done this on previous visits and each time Pettigrew thought it looked extremely uncomfortable. “Perhaps other versions of Lieutenant Ah-Oh-Key and the other New Earthers are now present in that universe—doppelgangers who are living out their lives in a new timeline, one that does not include the Adversary.”
“Are you saying that there might be two Denlora Aoki’s?” asked Nyondo sarcastically. “May the Many Gods help us.”
“I have another theory,” ventured Pettigrew. “The Otherverse’s Adversary are the Massang native to that realm—not Harradoss and his followers. In that universe, there was no Coalition. No one stood up to their aggression until it was too late. By then, they had become an unstoppable force which ran berserk across that galaxy.”
Nyondo sighed. “It’s as good a theory as any. Of course, we will never really know.”
“Hmm,” Pettigrew grumbled as he shifted the subject back to the here and now. “We won’t ever know anything unless we find the source of our current problem.”
It was a genuine dilemma, immense and infuriating—and admittedly, more than a little ironic. Almost an hour after Harradoss and his forces translated out of the Cor Caroli system, all faster-than-light communication ceased, impossible to initiate. Then, an even more ominous discovery: ships could not generate hyperspace bubbles, could not make the transition from realspace to the layer of space-time which enabled FTL travel.
The Coalition fleet had not only allowed Harradoss and his warships to escape, they had fallen into some sort of trap. Somewhere, hidden phase inhibitors had kicked on and were preventing them from leaving. Speedy Coalition frigates and destroyers were now conducting a search of the star system to locate the source of the problem. It was the main reason Marius had shuttled over for a face-to-face meeting on Typhoon, even though the discussion had admittedly drifted off subject.
“My search vessels have turned up nothing as of yet,” conceded Marius, “however it will take time for them to scan the entire asteroid belt.” While not as dense as the one in the Sol system, the Cor Caroli belt had thousands of bodies, any of which could be harboring well-placed and masked inhibitor platforms.
“The inner planet search hasn’t produced any results either,” Nyondo added.
Pettigrew furrowed his brow in thought. “It’s not so much being stuck here that bothers me, but rather our inability to communicate. We need to get a message out to Central Command that Harradoss and some eighty Massang ships are on the loose. Word by an old-fashioned tachyon packet would take nearly a year to reach Sarissa. We need that FTL capability.”
Marius stirred, climbing his way out of the human chair. “I must get back to my ship. Just keep one thing in mind, my friends—despite our current predicament, this was a great Coalition victory. You should be proud.”
It was difficult to feel pleased when so many had died. There was also the fact that a great amount of work remained. It was one full day after the battle and rescue vessels were still picking up stray life pods. There was also the prisoner problem, as Coalition forces struggled to deal with thousands of enemy captives. Sturka zel’ Nor, their newfound Massang ally, had agreed to assist in that area. Unfortunately, many Massang disliked Sturka. They saw him, not Harradoss, as a traitor to the Massang cause.
Pettigrew felt compelled to add one more thing before his alien comrade departed. “Marius, there would have been no victory without the Lytori, especially Sulla. My people honor her sacrifice and morn her loss.”
“That’s right,” a
dded Nyondo sadly. “She and her people gave their lives so that we could succeed. I will never forget her.”
Marius tapped one of his thorax-legs against the deck. “I promised you, didn’t I? I told you the Lytori would handle the generators. Sulla and her people performed their assignment with excellence and valor. They were very brave individuals, especially knowing how it would end.”
Pettigrew and Nyondo exchanged perplexed glances.
“What do you mean, Marius?” asked Pettigrew. “When you say ‘knowing how it would end.’ What do you mean by that?”
Marius’ wide barn owlish face twisted into an odd expression, one that Pettigrew had never seen before. Was it a look of surprise? Impatience?
“Knowing how it would end. Knowing that they would all die,” Marius stated matter-of-factly. “From the extreme heat of the star. They knew their fate in advance and yet they all undertook the mission. Very brave, don’t you think?”
Nyondo rose from her seat, her hands clenched tightly against her sides. “You mean to tell us that you knew they were all going to their certain deaths? You sent Sulla in there knowing…” She choked off her words—perhaps out of respect for a senior officer, but more likely overcome by emotion.
Pettigrew found himself incensed as well. “Marius, when you said your people would handle it, I assumed you meant that they would return safely. Why didn’t you tell me? We would have found another way.”
“There was no expedient alternative,” said Marius calmly.
“Expedient alternative?” Nyondo repeated bitterly. “We are talking about people’s lives here. And Sulla—Marius, she was in love with you!”
“Captain Nyondo, please,” said an embarrassed Marius. Pettigrew couldn’t tell if he was ashamed for himself, or for the brazen sentimentality of his human friends. “You are both upset. I will return to my ship now. Update me on any search progress.”
“Just a minute, Admiral,” said Pettigrew sharply, with Marius turning back to face him.
“I understand that our cultures have differences, but your actions in this matter have been unacceptable. We have a chain of command, and in this operation, I am the top of that chain. Even though the people involved were Lytori, for you to send them on a suicide mission without consulting the fleet commander was inexcusable, especially when it makes me an unwitting accessory in their deaths. This will not happen again—do you understand me, Marius?”
The android gave Pettigrew a long look. “Sulla said you would react this way. It was precisely why you could not know. I must return to my ship. Update me on any search progress.”
As the conference room doors shut behind the Lytori, Pettigrew moved to Nyondo’s side. “Understanding humans is tough enough, let alone aliens. Sulla and her people deserved better.”
Nyondo’s face was pained, her expression a mix of anger and agony. She stepped close, wrapped her arms around him and gently placed her head on his shoulder before speaking softly.
“I hate this war.”
* * * *
Thirty minutes later Pettigrew found himself sharing yet another unexpected turn with Nyondo.
“Harradoss said this?” queried Governor Sturka via the small translation box he wore strapped to his throat. “He told you his plan was to use the Threshold to cross over into the Otherverse?”
“Let me guess,” said Pettigrew. “He lied?”
Sturka leaned back in his chair—a snug fit for the portly Massang. “Harradoss is an accomplished politician and lair. In our society, the two go hand in hand.”
Pettigrew smirked. “Our cultures have more in common than you might think, Governor. What’s his plan—his real plan?”
“The Oplacai—the Threshold, as you call it—would be used as it was originally intended. Ships would enter and be instantly transported many light-years across the galaxy—this galaxy. There would be no need for a receiving Gate at the point of destination.”
“Where was his intended point of destination?” asked Pettigrew.
Despite being the enemy, in many ways the Massang were more human than any of the aliens yet encountered. You didn’t have to be a xenosociologist to understand Massang facial expressions, and the look on Sturka’s face right now was priceless.
“I thought you knew,” Sturka said in astonishment. “I thought it was the reason you and your comrades were fighting so hard to stop Harradoss and his followers from entering the Threshold. I really thought you knew.”
“Knew what, Governor?” asked Nyondo. “Exactly where was Harradoss taking his fleet?”
Sturka vacillated. He was clearly considering how to parley this vital piece of information into the maximum gain for himself and his people. The longer he held back, the higher the price was going to be.
Pettigrew leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “Governor Sturka, this war can drag on or it can end today. Either way, the Massang are going to lose. You know that as well as I do. Your people have been overwhelmed by the combined resources of the Coalition worlds. Your military has been plunged into multiple civil wars and Harradoss has siphoned off many of your remaining military assets for his own personal cause. Even the Vanguard have abandoned what is left of your government.”
Sturka listened to Pettigrew catalog the truth. He stared at ‘the window,’ a large wall screen showing scenes from various spaceborn drone cameras. Presently, Sturka was gazing at a real-time view of the Threshold.
“I cannot broker a peace here and now,” continued Pettigrew, “but I will be involved when the peace negotiations begin.”
Nyondo broke in, trying to help. “Admiral Pettigrew is well-respected within the Sarissan government. He knows the Empress personally and has her regard.”
Pettigrew pressed the Massang leader. “When the fighting stops, I will do everything in my power to help your people achieve a just peace, but the war must end before I can help. To stop the war, we must stop Harradoss.”
Sturka looked to both of them. “You are the cause of all of this—humankind, I mean. The alien alliance was nothing until they joined forces with your people. Humans gave them resources, gave them organization, and most importantly of all, gave them hope. And you, Pettigrew,” Sturka said, locking eyes with him. “You have been the biggest problem of all. Harradoss has told me again and again about how he hates you,” said the older Massang before pausing thoughtfully. “And if Harradoss hates you, I can think of no better character endorsement—even for an Impure Being, such as yourself.”
Pettigrew smiled. “His target, Governor. Where was he taking his fleet?”
“A planet upon which we could find sanctuary. On arrival, we would invade and easily seize this sparsely populated world. By the time your forces arrived, it would be too late.”
“But we could invade too,” said Nyondo. “Attack from space, bombard your military facilities.”
“Not on this world,” said Sturka. “You would never dare.”
Nyondo shook her head, apparently more to clear her thoughts than disagree. “What makes this particular planet so special?”
“Earth,” declared Pettigrew in a firm voice. “The target is Earth, isn’t it?”
Sturka gave them a steely look. “Yes, your homeworld. Your people have already destroyed it once before abandoning it. The New Earthers arrived and gave the planet a second chance. Harradoss argued that you would never ruin it again with a war.”
Nyondo shook her head. “But we wouldn’t have to. We could blockade the system—there are a dozen different military strategies to handle that kind of situation. The whole idea is crazy.”
“Of course, it is,” said Sturka. “But desperate people see only what they wish to see. Harradoss and his followers are delusional. He wants power so badly that it doesn’t matter to him where he leads the mob, only that he leads. Power is best left to those who are reluctant to take it. Regrettably, Harradoss hungers for it more than most.”
Pettigrew fretfully tapped an index finger against the arm of his chair
. “Sunny, it may sound crazy, but if Harradoss occupied Earth he could basically hold it hostage. If we didn’t give them free reign in the Sol system, his people might turn their own weapons on the planet. And don’t forget the millions of humans who live there already—they would all become bargaining chips. For Harradoss and his followers to gain control of Earth, well, that would be a nightmare scenario.”
Nyondo wasn’t convinced. “Chaz, EarthFed has their own fleet. In fact, we helped train them.”
“A small fleet,” countered Pettigrew.
“They have a brand-new titan-class warship.”
“One titan, a few cruisers, and some escort-class vessels. Remember that Harradoss left here with over eighty ships, including a dozen battleships.”
Pettigrew folded his arms in thought. “Governor, how were they planning to deal with the Gate connection between Earth and Sarissa. Any invasion of Sol would prompt immediate reinforcements from Sarissa.”
“Harradoss has recruited some human agents. They are ready to sabotage your hypergates. Regrettably, I do not know the details, but if all goes according to his plan there will be no reinforcements. The Earth fleet will have to cope on its own.”
Pettigrew glanced over at the wall screen image of the Threshold, looking past it into the deep space they could not currently access. “We have to get out of here. At the very least, we have to get a warning to Central Command.”
Nyondo remained dubious. “With the failure of the Threshold, Harradoss will give up on his Earth scheme, won’t he?”
“He is quite obsessed,” insisted Sturka. “If he and his fleet jumped from Cor Caroli straight toward Earth, the longer your fleet stays here, the larger the head start he will have.”
“And the more emboldened Harradoss will become,” added Pettigrew. “They could make it to Earth in three months, maybe two if they pushed hard. Enough supply ships and gas miners jumped out with them—they could actually pull this off.”
Starhold's Fate Page 23
