Trapped

by Scott Bartlett

  The Scion spoke again. “At their current location, there are no other cannons that can reach them.”

  So the enemy had been a little more strategic than Husher was giving them credit for. Now they had a base from which to survey and attack the system with impunity, with no fear of the ancient plasma cannons hitting them.

  He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Regan, we need to move our fleet there to attack them now, before they can strengthen their position. They have a foothold, but it’s tenuous. The best time to respond to this intrusion is right now. Potentially, it’s the only time Every second counts.”

  “I agree, Captain.” There was a note of melancholy in the Scion’s voice. “But your thoughts are not the only ones on the matter.”

  Husher leaned forward in his chair, eyebrows knitting together. “What are you talking about? I thought you were the supreme commander of the forces here.”

  There was a pause.

  Husher’s gaze snapped to his Coms officer. “Put him back on screen.”

  The alien appeared, surrounded by his complex holodisplay. Somehow, that display seemed less impressive, now. The Scions’ insanely advanced war room looked almost like a toy

  The alien’s face should have been impossible for Husher to read. He’d never seen one of them before today, and he’d still seen less than a dozen of them in the flesh.

  But he felt like he could tell when a creature, any creature, looked defeated. There was something in his drooping stance that told Husher everything he needed to know.

  “What are you telling me, Regan?”

  “I am sorry, Captain. But the loss of two ancient cannons—it’s a tragedy for my people.”

  “Yes, I get that. But we have to attack now.”

  “I understand that. Your admiral has already given the order to advance.”

  Husher glanced at Long, who nodded to indicate that they had indeed gotten an order from Iver. Likely, the admiral assumed the Scion fleet would follow, but Husher sensed that wasn’t going to happen.

  Regan’s eyes fell. “I also have a higher authority I must answer to.”

  Husher stood. “Regan, you said when you first saw me that I channeled my ancestors well. I don’t know what that truly means to you, and I wouldn’t pretend to understand, but I know what your scientists have told me about your past. About your people. And I know that your ancestors are the most important thing in your world. I know that those cannons are sacred, perhaps on par with your ancestors, but I guarantee that the ancestors who made those cannons knew they were fallible. They didn’t worship them. They relied on them as machines that could help, not something to mourn when they were gone.”

  Regan looked sad. “You do channel your ancestors well, Captain. But I fear you don’t understand my people as well as you could. Our planet is too precious to us—the burial grounds of our ancestors are too precious. If we join you among the asteroids, we risk a second Brood force appearing to threaten our planet, with our forces too far to lend aid. ”

  Husher racked his brain for the right thing to say—the thing that would convince the Scions to change their minds. “Your ancestors would want you to join us in this fight.”

  He nodded. “Yes. But my commanders have decided to keep the fleet within the range of the remaining plasma cannons. They prefer a defensive posture to an offensive one that would risk the destruction of our sacred grounds.”

  “And what do your ancestors tell you?”

  Regan said nothing.

  “Sir,” Winterton said. “I have a sensory reading that is…standing out.”

  Husher walked over to his console. “Show me.” Shota joined him just as the console shifted to show a huge cluster of activity and energy signatures around a handful of the largest asteroids.

  “It appears that they’re embedding something in those asteroids.”

  “The ‘brains’ the Scions were talking about,” Shota said. “Ancestorless, they called them.”

  Husher nodded. “Do those sound like anything familiar to you?”

  The XO frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A central hive mind that can control thousands of units?”

  Shota’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t think…?”

  “I don’t think anything,” Husher said, trying to stop Shota from speculating too wildly. Though why he cared, he didn’t know. Maybe just saying it aloud would make it more real, and it was the last thing they needed right now. “The Scion said the Brood typically attack in patterns, so it might be nothing.”

  Shota looked like a dog who’d gotten hold of a bone and wouldn’t let it go. “It could be them. It could be one of the Progenitor AIs.”

  Husher frowned and realized there was another reason he was uneasy about this assertion, if true. The one person they’d brought along in preparation for such an encounter was also the person they’d handed over to the Brood.

  And if the Brood were really a creation of an AI embedded this universe, that would explain why they’d asked for Husher by name. Because the other Husher, the one from the Progenitor system, would be well-known to it.

  We may have made a terrible mistake.

  Chapter 43

  Combat Information Center

  UHC Relentless

  Admiral Iver took ten seconds to hear out Husher’s concerns before he cut him off. “So you think because they use these centralized minds, that they must be in some way connected to the Progenitor AIs?”

  Husher nodded. “I think it’s a possibility. It’s something we’ve been worried about all along.”

  “We’ve been very focused on that possibility. And because of that, I think you’re putting too much stock in the connection.”

  Husher had to admit that Iver might be right—that he would probably be more prone than anyone to confirmation bias on this subject. He’d brought his Progenitor twin here for the very reason that he’d suspected they might run into an AI construct. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right.

  But now wasn’t the time to argue that point. “You might be correct, Admiral. Regardless, those hive minds are going to be the key to all this. We have to knock them out.”

  Shota was nodding along with Husher’s words. “Agreed, but we have a problem. The Scion aren’t pulling their weight.”

  Iver squinted. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Regan told me that the loss of the plasma cannons was a crippling blow to the Scion’s morale,” Husher said. “The planetary leadership doesn’t want their fleet moving away from the home planet, for fear it would endanger the lands where their ancestors are buried.”

  Iver blinked. “Crippling blow to their morale? Don’t they realize that we have to hit them now with everything we’ve got?”

  “Regan seems to. But he only commands the fleet. He doesn’t have final say on where it goes. If he’s ordered to stay close, then…”

  Winterton signaled to him. “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Scion fleet is underway and moving toward us.”

  Husher turned back to the screen just as Iver did the same. Apparently he’d gotten the same news.

  “Looks like they had a change of heart,” the admiral said. “Once they join up, I’m ordering you to take half their fleet with you to make for an asteroid whose designation I’m sending over now. According to sensors, the Brood have sent large payloads to five different asteroids, creating massive impact sites on each. Our analysis suggests one of them almost certainly houses the hive mind. The rest are likely decoys.

  “I want you to make for the closest asteroid we’ve identified. You’ll have operational command of your half of the battle group—Wasp, Idaho, O’Kane, and Regent. Of the frigates, you can have Trusty, Utah, and Zephyr. I’m taking the rest to strike at the second-closest target, then to loop around and regroup with you.”

  “Understood,” Husher said, and Iver broke the connection.

  “Sir, the Scions are hailing us,” Long said.

 
“On screen.” Their new alien friend appeared. “Regan, I’m glad to see that you got new orders to join us.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to like my orders so much when you hear them.” Regan’s voice held a note of exhaustion. “I’m allowed to bring our forces out to you, but we can’t go beyond the range of the remaining plasma cannons. It’s considered too great a risk to—”

  “You’re not coming in?” Husher was surprised by the anger in his own voice. “We don’t need a chaperone, we need an ally.” He forced himself to breathe. “Regan, you have to make your superiors understand what’s at stake here. It does no good to come closer if you can’t join us in the asteroid belt.”

  “I agree, Captain. I took some risk just getting to this point. But what authority I have left will be stripped from me if I move our forces into the asteroids. It’s possible that I would be immediately relieved, in which case I suspect our forces will abandon you in the middle of combat.” He shook his head. “I hope you understand the panic on my homeworld. My family is there. All the families of my crew are there. There’s an incredible strain on the leaders, whose top priority is honoring my ancestors, and protecting the grounds where they are buried.”

  Husher sat back in his chair. “You weren’t authorized to even bring the fleet this far, were you?”

  Regan smiled wanly. “I listened to my ancestors, as you suggested.”

  “And they aren’t telling you to go this extra step farther?” Husher knew he was probably overstepping his bounds, but he had to try.

  “They’re telling me that I’ll have a mutiny on my hands if I go any farther. The best I can do is promise you that I’ll be monitoring the engagement, and if it appears that you’re in a desperate situation, I can send my best fighter cluster in to help you. But I can’t, under any circumstances, send any of our main battle ships.”

  Husher shook his head, no words left to say. He’d said his piece.

  “I’m truly sorry, Captain.”

  “Please let me know if the situation changes.” Husher made a chopping gesture toward Long, and the screen went blank.

  “Should we let Iver know about this?” Shota murmured. “That offer of help is a joke. If they’re outside the asteroid belt, there’s no way this fighter cluster is going to be able to respond to a ‘desperate situation’ in time to help us. They might as well piss in the Brood’s direction for all the good their offer is to us.”

  Husher frowned at Shota. “Get it together, XO.”

  The young man blinked, then nodded, his jaw firming.

  Lose your cool too often, and the crew starts to see it as an appropriate response.

  But Shota wasn’t wrong. His battlefield knowledge was as precise as ever. The offer of help from the Scions was a useless gesture, and he suspected Regan knew as much.

  “Long, send Iver a message briefing him on my conversation with Regan. But if I know him, it changes nothing. Our orders are our orders.”

  “It seems things have changed a little,” Shota said. “It seems now we’re in the business of protecting other creatures’ homeworlds for them when they can’t be bothered to do it themselves.”

  “You still have a lot to learn about being a starship captain. For the good ones, saving people who won’t save themselves is a big part of the job.”

  Shota shook his head and turned back to the screen.

  Something Captain Keyes had told him years ago came back to him then—something he’d said during the Second Galactic War. You could pick a side in a war, but you couldn’t pick the people you fought for. Sometimes you helped those who couldn’t help themselves. And sometimes you helped those that wouldn’t help themselves. But the job was the same.

  Winterton turned toward him. “Sir, the Scion forces are just off the bow, holding their position.”

  Husher nodded. “Understood. Nav, plot a course into that asteroid belt. Use your discretion. Our target is the closest of the suspected hive mind positions. Assume that we’ll need to make evasive maneuvers once inside, and try to find us a route that gives us some elbow room.”

  Fontaine nodded as she studied her console. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will.” Husher slapped the com built into his command chair. “Major Callum, we’re going to have to go hunting in less than hospitable waters. Think you can handle it?”

  “You had me at hunting, Captain. We’re in the tubes and ready to fly.”

  “Very well. I’ll have Commander Long send you coordinates. We’re linking up with the rest of the big boys. All but the Strongbow; she’s assigned to close space with the Providence. Other than hers, you’ll lead all air groups, Major.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Captain,” Long said. “The admiral has responded to our message. Orders are unchanged.”

  Husher nodded, then slapped the com on his chair again. “Python squadrons are cleared to launch and form up with your counterparts from the other destroyer. Stand by to take evasive maneuvers at a moment’s notice.”

  “Understood,” Callum said again.

  “Happy hunting.” Husher turned looked up to find the eyes of several of the bridge crew looking his way. They knew what was at stake. They’d already taken the fight directly to the Brood once before, and had had to run with their tails between their legs. Twice. Now, they were rushing headlong into the biggest number of them they’d seen yet.

  “Nav, do you have a good course through that asteroid field?”

  “There are some tight corners, sir, but we’ll fit.”

  “Very well, take us in, Helm.”

  Moens nodded. “Here we go.”

  Chapter 44

  Combat Information Center

  UHC Relentless

  Fontaine might have understated the difficulty of her approach.

  Husher and the rest of the team in the CIC watched as the image of the asteroids on the main viewscreen flipped and spun around the Relentless, which barreled along the complex route the Nav officer had Moens running her through.

  Husher watched as Pythons buzzed in and out of the flight path the Relentless was locking into. It was much tighter than Husher would have liked. If they found themselves under assault from the Brood fighters—the Pseudopods, as the Scions called them—there would be nowhere to go.

  They’d simply have to destroy whatever came at them.

  Husher watched the tactical display as a sizable enemy force, accompanied by three of the large Stomach ships, broke away from the group that stationed near their target.

  “Point defenses active,” he said.

  “They’re going to have problems in here,” Tremaine said. “The computers aren’t going to be able to see targets coming in on vectors shielded by asteroids.”

  “Understood.”

  Shota shot him a concerned look. “We’ll have to rely on our starfighters.”

  “That’s why we launched them before we moved in here,” Husher said. “They’re going to have to be our eyes…and our shield.”

  “The front Stomach is opening up and splitting off Pseudopods,” Winterton said.

  “Understood. Tactical, send a paired missile barrage at the two rear Stomachs.”

  “Sir?” Tremaine said, sounding confused.

  “We’re going to try catching the rear ones with their pants down. If we can damage or destroy those two before they can unload their Wayfarers, that’s going to make the job that much easier for our fighter groups.”

  “Understood, sir. Targeting those back two. Based on the amount of natural debris between us and them, can I suggested a doubled barrage?”

  Husher couldn’t help but think about the amount of munitions they’d already expended in engagements with the Brood, and he was sure that was going to be nothing compared to this fight. As long as they were trapped in this pocket universe, they weren’t getting any replacement munitions.

  None of that matters if we don’t win today. “Do it, Ensign. And Coms, tell Callum that he’s goi
ng to have to take on that first wave on his own. We’re counting on them.”’

  “Aye, sir.”

  Winterton bent closer to his console. “Sir, some of these asteroids are…behaving erratically.”

  Husher furrowed his brow. “Behaving? Explain, Ensign.”

  “They’re moving in directions that seem out of step with their heliocentric orbits. Some of them are almost perpendicular to those orbits. And every displaced asteroid happens to be on a course to intersect…well, our course.”

  The XO was looking at Husher, and he met the man’s eyes.

  “Could the Brood be nudging them toward us?” Shota said.

  “For what purpose? They must have figured out that our guidance computers are too smart to carry us into one of them.”

  “Maybe. But even if we don’t hit one, we’ll still have to go around it. And the more asteroids we have to dodge, the more we’ll deviate from the other destroyers. ”

  Winterton spoke up again. “Sir, our first wave of missiles is having a good effect. One of the Stomachs is already badly damaged and the second is trying to unload its Pseudopods, but it’s also taken damage. Our second wave is closing in now.”

  Husher nodded, but his mind was still on the discussion with Shota. “They’re trying to isolate us.”

  Shota nodded. “That’s what I’d do.”

  “Winterton, have any other of our ships had to break away?”

  Winterton returned his gaze to his console, then nodded. “Yes sir. The O’Kane. She and another cruiser were paired at the back of the pack. But O’Kane had to break away from the rest of the battle group’s course. Looks like she’s angling to rejoin now.”

  “There,” said Shota, striding across toward the main viewscreen. “There they are.”

  As they watched, two more Stomachs appeared as if out of nowhere, from behind a particularly hectic section of asteroids. “They were waiting.”

  Husher didn’t need advanced instruments to see how the course that the O’Kane had shifted onto was going to send her right into those Stomachs.