The Spelidon’s toothy mouth opened briefly, made a hoarse sound, then he stiffened his stance, draped his disgusting tail over his left shoulder, and combed his black whiskers. “Because I know how to defeat this biped of the Human species. The attack on Alkalurops was predicted by my node, using intelligence we developed and that I analyzed. This is the first time any body of Combat Command has been able to predict a future attack by this Dragoneaux biped.”
“How?” he muttered, wishing he could mouth-taste the arrogant little biped. But that would violate his vegetarian regime, a mark of civilization among all Orkos.
The two black eyes, two not four like his, blinked quickly, then stayed open. “By laying a trap for him in this star system. He hates me. He will arrive here eventually, seeking to capture or kill me.”
“What kind of trap?” Perhaps the Spelidon’s tricky mind would prove useful after all.
“One baited with what this Human values most. Captives from genome slaver ships.” The Spelidon smoothed his front fur with nail-claws that would hardly leave a mark on Brrzeet’s hide. “I will call on the remaining slaver starships to come here within three Belizel months. This biped will learn of the meeting near Sector14 Intelligence. He will follow. But each slaver starship will be retrofitted with a 30 megaton hydrogen warhead. The experience of Captain Yorkel shows that is the only way to force a dropping of the Alcubierre space-time shields that protect these T’Chak Dreadnought starships. Then my fleet of battleglobes will destroy his ship.”
A novel concept. Making use of what Yorkel had already released to this biped, thereby granting Brrzeet the honor of being a future target of the poorly stabilized Human mammal. “I can order High Captain Yorkel to do what you propose while bringing here a fleet of forty battleglobes, since twenty were not enough for Alkalurops. Why should I allow you to attempt what Yorkel has already achieved?”
Chai the Spelidon rocked back on its bare heels, then clapped his bare palms together in a second Clap of Obedience. “If that is your decision, then I will obey. However, my plan involves the capture, alive, of this Human biped, whereas Yorkel would just kill him. He hates to lose ships.”
“Why keep this renegade biped alive?” asked Brrzeet, as he weighed which of the two naval leaders would be most effective against this Human biped.
“To draw in the remainder of his fleet,” Chai said softly, his carbon-black whiskers flaring. “There are seven ships in his fleet, one of which is his ship. Most likely he will seek to enter this system covertly, since his own Dreadnought has proven able to destroy multiple battleglobes. But once we disable his ship and capture him, his co-insurrectionists will attempt to rescue him. That is when the slaver ships will ram these T’Chak warships. Keeping this Dragoneaux alive increases our chances of ending this minor rebellion before it builds any awareness among the various populations.”
Brrzeet liked the sneakiness of the Spelidon’s plan. But Yorkel the Brokeet had proven himself in recent combat. So. Time to motivate both two-legged aliens.
“Accepted, Commander Chai. Make your preparations. However, I will assign High Captain Yorkel to command a fleet of forty battleglobes. If he is able to intercept this Human biped at another star, there is no need to risk damage to this Intelligence asset of the Anarchate. Is there?”
“Agreed, High Commander Brrzeet,” muttered Chai in mediocre Belizel.
“Oh, my further order to you is that you share every mouth bite of intelligence on this Dragoneaux and his Human species with High Captain Yorkel,” Brrzeet said, letting his four eyes smile. “As I will so instruct Yorkel to share with you. It will be an interesting competition to see which of you achieves success first.”
“May I depart, High Commander?”
“You may.”
Brrzeet watched the sly Spelidon until the hairy mammal exited his Command Node, then he returned to relax on his Contemplation Couch. It seemed the physical facilities of Sector 14 Intelligence might be at risk, given the rash sharing of its location with this Human biped. Perhaps he should see to the parking of a hyper-fast Courier ship next to his Command Node. It would not do for him to miss the next meeting of the Council of Sixteen at Central Nexus. No enemy ship had ever survived to approach within a light year of Central Nexus. Not in the two million cycle history of the Anarchate. He liked that level of efficiency. Perhaps he should arrange for a vacation in order to brief the council member who supervised his work.
CHAPTER TEN
Suzanne sat in the Park with George, Eliana and Matthew, with the AIs Mata Hari and Gatekeeper sitting between her and Matt in their human mode holo appearance. She was still amazed at how Mata Hari used mini-tractor devices to make dense the air within her shape, so that one could actually feel the touch of her hand as it patted your shoulder. Or handed you a plate of olives and cheddar cheese from the supplies given them by the Irish settlers of Morrigan planet. She hoped the Anarchate was still ignorant of Morrigan’s connection with Matt’s crusade. They were a people and a world that she had felt an immediate connection to when they landed in the central park of Lisdoonvarna, their capital city.
“Me too,” Eliana said in her mind, then spoke aloud. “Suzanne and I are looking forward to again being among the Tuatha De Danaan settlers of Morrigan, Matthew.”
The wiry bulk of Matt leaned back from their circle to glance around the Park, as if inspecting the flight vectors of the buzz beetles or the exact depth of the nearby pond with its rushes and lily pads that held a few croaking frogs. He wore the black and white checkered Japanese rode he called a yukata, his bare legs crossed in front as they all sat cross-legged on the green grass of the small meadow that Gatekeeper had created from living sod, pebbles, trees and lifeforms. They had been donated by Airmed O’Davoren, governor of Morrigan, she recalled. Though her mind touched Matt’s via the tachlink nodes embedded in each of them, she left him to his distraction.
“I too recall the wonderful party they gave us before we left,” Matt said aloud even as his mind ruminated on battle strategies that each of them, including Mata Hari and Gatekeeper, could see as a result of the cyborg mods done to her, Eliana and George.
Suzanne could not resist the obvious. “So, how soon before we show up on the doorstep of Governor O’Davoren?”
Matt smiled briefly, his gaze shifting to focus on them all. “A little while yet. Morrigan is about 7,500 light years from Earth, in the Kappa Crucis cluster. It takes time to get there,” he said, then reached over to hold the albino white hand of Eliana. “In the meantime, Mata Hari and Gatekeeper will take care of the 73 alien and human slaver captives. They will keep to the community hall when we are in the Park. But Mata Hari will allow visits to the Park by the captives when we go our separate ways.”
Suzanne felt Eliana’s emotional echo of pleasure and hope as she squeezed Matt’s fingers. Ignoring the minor physical reactions normal to each human, and even to the two AIs, she probed again. “What do we do now?”
Matt’s high forehead creased as he turned intense. “You know of my plans to hit Anarchate facilities at 18 Scorpii and 51 Pegasi. Each is just 50 or so light years from Earth, and maybe double that from our spot here, near Alkalurops.” He paused, sending them each a mental image of the Anarchate shipyard and galactic tachnet node that were his targets. “So we can get there pretty quickly in Alcubierre drive time. I want to show Commander Chai and High Captain Yorkel that we will hit places they cannot predict, before we attack the Sector 14 Intelligence base near the Crab Nebula.”
Suzanne nodded. “Will you use the full fleet?”
“No, the seven ships of Hexagon Prime will suffice to take out those installations.”
She had to say it. “Matt, perhaps if you had used a few hundred warships of our greater fleet the thermonuke torps that overloaded the screen of Ocean might have been taken out by other ships. Leaving her alive.” Eliana’s mind shuddered as she thought of the loss of the AI they had known only from refueling stops along the Magellanic Stream.
“While I understand your aim is to keep the Anarchate underestimating our battle strength, still, more ships means more defensive fire that can suppress enemy attacks.”
Matt’s brown eyes fixed on hers. “Don’t you think I’ve struggled with that realization? Again and again? If I had done as you say, perhaps Ocean would still be alive!”
Mata Hari sighed into their mindflow, adding her real time voice to their thoughts. “Matthew my Vigilante, life is choosing among probabilities. I did not think of the value of more ships. My focus was on local tactics. As was the awareness of BattleMind. Do not blame yourself for not doing something an AI did not foresee.”
“Damn it!” Matt said so harshly it hurt her ears and her mind. “That is my duty as the organic part of this Vigilante partnership! I am supposed to be the human with sneaky plans that add to the Task effort. I am supposed to be—”
“Perfect?” said Eliana aloud and in Matt’s mindflow.
Silence filled the grassy meadow as Matt shut up, his mind a swirl of regrets, wishes and future hopes. Suzanne thought it was time to share her idea.
“Matthew, no one is perfect. And taking on a two million year old galactic empire brings with it big risks. Which is why I want to suggest the opposite of what we have been discussing. Why don’t you take just your ship and carry out these attacks at near lightspeed, with fast Translation exits and entries, then join us at Morrigan?”
Matt, Eliana and George all looked at her, their expressions puzzled. “Why use just one ship? The seven of us are safer for the points you just raised,” Matt said.
“Because if I, Eliana and George, with the help of the ten Cohort leader AIs, move Ocean Fleet to a space just outside the heliopause of Dagda star, we can signal to Governor O’Davoren on Morrigan that we are seeking volunteers to join our anti-cloneslavery crusade. I suspect we will gain dozens, perhaps a few hundred, human volunteers from the Tuatha De Danaan people. We will start sooner what you already planned to do.”
Matt’s expression changed from one of surprise to one of intense concentration. “A good idea in that it will advance the growth of the fleet and allow us to make multiple attacks at different spots at the same time. That will drive the Anarchate crazy. I like it.”
Her George thought warm support to her in mindflow, then spoke. “Suzanne, that’s a great idea. It will still take a month or more to train folks to this tachlink mindflow we are doing, plus the surgery needed to insert the fiber optic cable socket in their necks. And we will need to practice small group maneuvers in the deep space beyond the heliopause. But since Morrigan gets so few Anarchate visitors, it sounds like an ideal place to recruit and train our Ocean Fleet.”
Suzanne felt happy that good George, a practical man with a feel for getting things done right the first time, had seen the advantages her IT training had suggested as she considered the value of having lots of T’Chak Dreadnoughts to participate in future attacks. And thereby gain a greater ability to suppress defensive and offensive fire from the battleglobes. For sure they would face larger fleets than the twenty-group at Alkalurops. And this High Captain Yorkel impressed her as an innovative ship captain. Despite Matt’s threat to him, she suspected Yorkel would now pursue them as much as Commander Chai had been planning their defeat in the months while they were traveling to and from the Small Magellanic Cloud. Well, the four of them were humans. And humans do not give up. Ever.
“Not ever,” said George softly, then turned to include them all. “When honor and freedom are at stake, any descendant of the Tuatha De Danaan will always choose to battle for what is right!”
High Captain Yorkel looked at the holo image of his new orders from Sector 14 Intelligence. They were emitted from the ID bracelet every member of Combat Command wore, on whatever manipulator limb sufficed. He had taken over one of the commerce starships in order to head for the nearest naval base at 18 Scorpii, but it seemed High Commander Brrzeet wished him to be elsewhere. At Polaris B, an F3V main sequence star that orbited the brighter Cepheid variable star recorded as Polaris A. It lay three hundred light years away from Alkalurops, but not far as the Alcubierre stardrive measured such matters. Going there would link him up with four ten-groups of Nova-class battleglobes. It seemed his recent success in destroying one of the Human renegade’s warships had earned him a chance to try again at killing this enemy of the Anarchate.
“High Captain, we are ready to depart,” said navigator Dinkel, a Spelidon whose shifty whiskers suggested any data Yorkel shared with him would not remain secret very long.
But with this matter, Yorkel had no choice. “My orders direct me to Polaris B, to the naval shipyard that orbits Planet Four. Using the fastest available transport. Can you get us there within a Belizel week?”
The black whiskers on the Spelidon’s long nose-mouth stiffened. “Yes! It will take constant monitoring of the fusion power modules, but this ship was first built as a fast Courier, before being sold to Halicene Conglomerate. There is a comfortable stateroom halfway down the central hallway that has been prepared for you by one of my crew.”
Yorkel eyed the short black fur of the navigator, gave him credit for being employed by one of the galaxy’s premiere conglomerates, then decided he needed privacy in which to review the molecular memory crystal records of the two battles at Alkalurops. Perhaps there were further lessons to be learned by studying his opponent’s actions and reactions.
“Thank you, navigator Dinkel. I will reside there to study my orders and other matters. I will call when food is required.”
“As you wish, High Captain.”
Yorkel left the commerce ship’s Bridge and headed down its central hallway, enjoying the comfort of gravplates set to Brokeet normal gravity. One of the small advantages of traveling under the orders of Sector14 Intelligence. Now, if he only knew the situation of Chai and the plans of his academy nemesis, all might be right with the universe. With a tap of his bracelet he entered orders for his Bridge crew to be re-assigned to Polaris B. He would not advance to the level of Sector Captain without his ally Malel, his Chief Tactician Lark and the other Bridge members who had survived the last battle with this Dragoneaux biped. Which left him wondering a simple matter. Did this Human biped show similar allegiance to his allies? It seemed a matter worth researching in the Compendium of Species.
Matt entered ocean-time, knowing he had to be in full sensory-link with starship Mata Hari’s offensive weaponry the moment they exited near the sole planet of 18 Scorpii. It was certain there would be battleglobes on alert, ready to fire at him the moment the ship materialized. The gravity wave pulse was something he could not avoid emitting once he left Alcubierre space-time. And gravity waves, like Suzanne and Eliana’s telepathy, were instantly perceived.
The dam burst. Oceans filled him, oceans of machine-fed data filled his mind’s-eye.
The dragon shape of the ship’s flexhull shivered in Translation space. His back itched as directed energy weapon domes popped out onto the hull. His biceps fed power to the ship’s six antimatter cannons, which adorned the black wings that used to be small pontoons. He clenched tight his jaw muscles, bringing on-line the deuterium-lithium six fusion drive for chasing after the battleglobes. Ears listened to tachyonic comlinks, synthetic aperture and phased array radars. His eyes ‘saw’ infrared, ultraviolet, gamma rays and radioactives. Inside his chest, his heart beat. It beat in sync with the Alcubierre Drive that underlay everyone’s interstellar travel. And halfway down the Spine hallway the 73 slaver captives lay in their roomsuites, each confined by inertial fields in case there was a loss of local gravity. A precaution and a good means of preventing interference with his ocean-time work.
Instinct allied to emotion allied to analytical thought. Matt knew he was a true cyborg . . . and it was time to go to work.
Femtoseconds sped along and picoseconds felt like the ticks of an ancient mechanical clock. A nanosecond would feel like an hour, while a millisecond would feel . . . longer. He sighed, knowing there would
be reentry shock when they materialized in normal space.
This was a gamble. But this time he had experience with the super-weapons in the Restricted Rooms. And he knew how long it would take any Nova-class battleglobe to start up its own Bethe Inducer field in an effort to turn starship Mata Hari into a few neutron star particles. He planned to strike decisively before that occurred. The Graviton Beamer in the Restricted Rooms would be his primary weapon, while the axial plasma funnel and his neutron antimatter cannons were able to handle the shipyard’s orbiting hulks, completed battleglobes, Courier vessels and Supply Tubes. He planned to leave nothing but a debris field for Commander Chai to contemplate.
In the Pit, Matt felt the inertial fields come on, pressing him into his chair. He relaxed, but did not shut off external ship sensors. His bare skin flew through the coldness of Alcubierre space-time. Like a double-image, he was both inside the ship, and outside. It would be rough experiencing the exit from Translation while still in cyborg-link with his ship. But he had no choice. He must be completely alert and aware when they materialized several planetary diameters out from the single planet that lay at 1.5 AU from its G2V yellow star.
Fifteen milliseconds, pulsed his internal cyberclock.
“Exiting Translation!” called Mata Hari in his mind
All about him, reality went from grey, amorphous, and indistinct to normal space-time. Hundreds of tachRemotes, Spy Eye sensors, sensorBeads, software virus floaters, white noise disruptor cubes and a few holo decoys sped away, just before the Alcubierre shields snapped into place around his ship. Imagery blinked off, then back on as tachRemotes fed him and Mata Hari a multi-spectral display of what lay ahead.
Twenty-two milliseconds, said his cyberclock.
Before them glowed the red infrared warmth of the target planet, the lighter red of six battleglobe hulks still under construction, a dark red discus that housed the construction HQ, the yellow of a dozen or more tiny crew shuttles bringing workers to and from their weightless jobs, and the neutrino purple of two orbiting fusion power globes that transmitted power to everyone, appearing like two beacons that pulsed faster than he could keep count.
Galactic Vigilante (Vigilante Series 3) Page 13
