by Evan Currie
“I can see that.”
The mass figures that were showing on Morgan’s station were, frankly, terrifying.
“The question is, are they battleships or carriers?” he wondered, examining the profiles.
“Battleships,” Li answered. “There are no significant bays I can see that would allow them to launch fighters, and I notice no signs of their Parasite nodules on the larger vessels.”
“True. Run hyperspectral analysis on them and make that a priority,” he ordered. “We have data and analysis on most of the ship types I’m seeing, but those big bastards are another story. I want something to transmit back to the admiral.”
“Yes sir.”
Morgan didn’t know if the transmittal would matter, ultimately. The force he was looking at was beyond anything they’d planned for. There was no way the available ships would be enough to hold back the fleet they’d just scanned. The resources needed to build and maintain a force like he was seeing was beyond Earth’s current levels entirely, and he wasn’t sure if the Priminae could pull off such a feat either despite their considerably more advanced technology and wider access to resources.
After everything he’d seen the Earth accomplish, and face, with the Drasin, Morgan found this to be a bitter realization.
“Make sure they’re well past us,” he ordered, “then stand by to warp space.”
“Yes Captain.”
“Send the coded signals as soon as we have initial analysis,” he stated. “For what it’s worth, let the fleet know what’s coming their way.”
CHAPTER 9
AEV Enterprise, Sol System
“Black!”
Commander Alexandra Black looked up from where she was working, spotting Chief Corrin as the other woman approached across the deck of the Enterprise’s main flight control area. The steady clang of her magnetic boots was heard more sharply as she got closer.
“What is it, Chief?” Black asked as she straightened up from the fighter’s diagnostic access panel, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands clean.
Everything was flightworthy, of course. Her deck crew were damned good at their jobs, but Alexandra still preferred to do a final once-over before she strapped the SF-101 Vorpal to her back and trusted her life to the conglomeration of tech.
“Word just filtered down,” Corrin said, coming to a stop beside the ungainly looking fighter. “We’re going on alert, deployment imminent.”
Black stiffened, eyes widening.
That was news to her, and technically she really should have heard about it before Corrin, but she was well aware that the NCO network had a way of learning things before anyone else possibly could.
“Where the hell are we deploying to?” she asked, mind racing.
The Empire.
It pretty much had to be the Empire, as best she knew. Unless the Drasin had shown up again—God forbid those things ever see the light of Sol again—the Empire was the only current threat on the board.
“Details are light,” Corrin admitted, “but the deployment order is expected to come down the chain within the hour.”
Alexandra flipped the access panel shut and twisted the catch over to lock it into place.
“We’re ready,” she said.
“Good news bad news on that,” Corrin said.
“What’s the good news?”
“We’re getting another five squadrons of Vorpals and pilots to fill out the wing. So we won’t be light anymore.”
That was good news, Alexandra supposed.
“And the bad?”
“They’re all fresh.”
Alexandra grimaced, almost in pain. “Right before a deployment?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll speak with the CAG. We’ll get them indoctrinated as quickly as we can,” Alexandra said, more to herself than to the chief. “If this is a real deployment, the last thing we need is the level of fumbling bullshit that will be caused by new blood in the teams. Why the hell can’t they send us people before the galaxy is about to end?”
“That would be too smart, ma’am.”
There was some truth in that statement.
Victor James was an unassuming man in most environments he might be found in. The sort people tended to overlook in a crowd, with just a few notable exceptions. The most notable of those was the bridge of his command, where he brooked no questioning that he was the center of the universe.
The AEV Enterprise was the third, and last, Odyssey Class ship ever constructed by Earth’s infrastructure before it was all but annihilated during the Drasin invasion. Named after the second ship of the class, which had been sacrificed along with her captain and some significant number of her crew, his ship had been obsolete before she was commissioned. With the new Rogue and Heroic Class vessels taking center stage, the Enterprise had been relegated back to Sol System patrol. A largely useless waste of resources for a ship that had been conceived as a carrier and force projection vessel, but even he had to admit in his darker moments that there was a long way between the capabilities of his baby and the Odysseus.
Now, however, he was looking at orders to move his ship to full alert status, prior to an expected deployment out of the system.
That meant something big and bad was coming down the pipe, he had no doubt.
“Commander . . .” James walked across the lightly curved deck of the bridge to where Commander Bride was standing watch. “Begin issuing orders to have the crew work up to deployment levels.”
Bride looked over at him quizzically, but nodded curtly. “Yes sir.”
“We’ll be receiving new squadrons of Vorpals over the next two days,” James went on. “Have the deck crews make space and start an inventory check. Make sure we can handle the repairs and maintenance for an extended deployment.”
The quizzical look vanished, replaced by one of understanding, concern, and a hint of excitement as Bride recognized the depth of meaning in those orders. Working the crew up to deployment levels was just training, but resupply, reinforcements, and checking logistics meant a lot more.
“The Empire, sir?” Bride asked softly, pitching his voice to keep from being heard.
“Most likely,” James responded in kind. “No confirmation yet. But when Gracen takes an emergency trip out on a fast courier and turns around and blasts back less than a week later, and we start getting orders like this? It’s a good bet, Commander.”
“Not to sound like I don’t want a deployment,” Bride said, “but are they insane? There’s no way we’re going toe to toe with one of those monster cruisers we’ve been briefed on.”
James was noncommittal. “I think it’s a sign that something bad is coming down the pipe, but I’m not sure I agree with you entirely. They’re big bruisers, yes, but Weston already proved that you can wreak havoc on the big boys with an Odyssey Class ship.”
“The Imperials aren’t as simpleminded as the Drasin,” Bride countered. “If they were, we wouldn’t be needed in the first place.”
James had to unhappily concede that as truth. The current fleet of Heroic and Rogue Class ships could utterly annihilate a massive armada of Drasin-level opponents. Ordering the deployment of the Enterprise, given the current administrative investment in modern doctrine beliefs, was a sign that the admiral was just short of panicking.
He didn’t think anything would make Admiral Gracen panic, but she had to be as close as she got at the moment, and the upper brass and politicians had to be worse for them to suddenly shift doctrine and deploy the Big E.
“We’ll see how bad things are, sooner or later,” James said. “In the meantime, I’m just looking forward to getting the E out into the black again. We’ve been sun-bound too damn long.”
Bride nodded. “Amen to that.”
Station Unity One, Earth Orbit
“This is madness!”
“Admiral . . .” Amanda Gracen spoke in cool tones, carefully and intentionally not leaning away from the blustering fool in her face. “The univer
se is mad. Live with it, or die. I don’t care which, just stay out of my way.”
The red-faced admiral reddened even further, making Gracen wonder idly if he were about to have a stroke. “You cannot be serious. You’re deploying part of our Home Fleet, including the Enterprise? That’s sending men off to useless deaths!”
“What Admiral Harrison is trying to say,” Congressman Jerimiah said in a thankfully calmer tone, “is that it would seem to make more sense to keep the Home Fleet intact, and focus our strength here at home.”
“Congressman . . .” Gracen half turned. “If I thought I had the political pull, I would strip the cupboards bare here and send everything we had. I would much rather fight critical battles as far away from Earth as humanly possible.”
“However, you don’t even know if there is an Imperial Fleet on the way,” the congressman said smoothly.
“Of course there is,” Gracen said with a hint of amused derision. “What I don’t know is when they’ll arrive.”
“That is pure guesswork!” the admiral roared, frustration palpably oozing off him.
“No, it is a well-educated projection. They’re coming, Admiral, Congressman,” she said firmly. “If you want to hide in the sand, feel free to do so. I have the authority and political backing to do what I’ve ordered. If I thought I could convince you, I would have ordered much more, I assure you.”
“You burned a lot of your favors on this, Admiral,” Congressman Jerimiah said. “If you’re wrong, I’ll see you replaced.”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll happily retire secure in the knowledge that the world didn’t end on my watch,” Gracen said flatly. “In the meantime, you both need to—”
“Admiral Gracen, ma’am!”
She cut off her statement as she turned to the ensign who’d come rushing in. For a young officer to interrupt an admiral in midspeech, she knew something was wrong.
“What is it, Ensign?”
“Transition signal from the Autolycus, ma’am,” the young officer said, red in the face as she looked at the obviously angry men and Gracen. “It’s not detailed, but you need to see this.”
Gracen extended her hand, accepting the display flimsy and looking it over briefly.
“Well, gentlemen,” she said, taking no satisfaction at all in her next words despite the content, “it would seem that I won’t be retiring just yet.”
“What?” Congressman Jerimiah looked confused, while the admiral at his side paled and took a stumbling step back. “What does that mean?”
“How many?” the admiral asked.
“More than we can handle,” Gracen said candidly, her tone stoic. “Many times more than we can handle.”
She handed the flimsy to the man without any further words, letting him glance over the report.
The FTL transmissions from ships under way were, by necessity, of extremely limited space, so the words were few but the meanings were manifold.
“My God,” the admiral breathed out. “This is . . .”
“Let’s just hope we can keep the fighting a long way from here,” Gracen said firmly.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Congressman . . .” The now very pale admiral took his arm as he handed back the flimsy, then walked the congressman away. “Let’s allow Admiral Gracen to do her work. We’ll discuss this elsewhere.”
Gracen watched them go with a hint of satisfaction that was almost buried by the enormity of what she had just read.
We knew that we were likely outmassed, if not outclassed, but by this much?
She had to keep the fighting as far from Earth as she possibly could. The Kardashev construction was nowhere near ready for use, still being early in the self-replicating phase. If the Empire got to Earth, no matter how many of the Home Fleet she kept close, they would be overwhelmed.
Gracen walked around her desk, taking a seat and opening a file.
Really hoped not to pin everything on Prometheus. It’s a long shot . . . pun unintended, Gracen thought.
“Ensign,” she called, getting the attention of the young officer who had waited by her door.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Signal Prometheus,” she ordered. “I want status updates. We need that system online, immediately.”
“Yes ma’am!”
AEV Enterprise
As often happened, by the time the official orders had been cut, everyone already knew more or less what was happening. You just couldn’t move thousands of tons of ship and people without giving them some idea of what was coming. Deciphering the meaning behind orders was a game every serviceman played, and experienced people were often decidedly good at.
None of the details had reached the crew of the Big E certainly. Operational security in the Black Navy wasn’t that bad, but everyone had a decent idea of where things were heading.
James looked over the brief orders he’d been issued and just managed to suppress a sigh.
The Enterprise had been issued orders to place itself under the command of Commodore Weston. Not exactly James’ ideal choice for a commanding officer, if given his druthers. By all measures, Weston was a capable tactician—that was beyond question. He did tend to be a little bit of a show-off, however, and James had never much liked the man’s strategic acumen.
None of that mattered. Orders were orders.
“Commander Bride . . .” He walked over to the commander’s station. “How are our logistics?”
“We’re ready for an extended deployment, sir,” Bride answered. “However, the supply train ships are a bit of a different story.”
James grimaced.
That didn’t surprise him as much as it should. Logistics was a touchy beast at the best of times, and dealing with new fleet ship classes, largely untested crews, and the god-awful problems of resupply en route while in space were making for rather larger than normal problems.
“On the bright side, it looks like the admiral has been able to shake loose a few more BSV Class ships,” Bride said through pursed lips. “However, we still don’t have nearly enough equipped with transition drives. Most of them are running Alcubierre drives, staffed by block engineers.”
“We’ll make do,” James said firmly. “It’s over our pay grade anyway. When we get to Ranquil we’ll drop that in the commodore’s lap. It’s his job to figure out.”
Bride laughed dryly. “You really don’t like the man much, do you?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did,” James replied in kind. “But I have no quarrels with him. I just think he’s a little too enamored with his high-profile lifestyle.”
Bride shrugged. “Maybe. At any rate, with those new BSV Class ships, that brings our supply and logistical capability up to almost fifty ships. I have to admit I didn’t even know we had that many ships of any type, let alone these.”
“They refurbished a lot of the old tankers as they could, and the old slips that had been used to build ships before the Heroic Class became standard are still capable of military constructions. So between us and the Block we can turn out smaller, obsolete, and less high-profile hulls fairly quickly,” James said.
He didn’t mention that the Enterprise herself had come from one of those slips and was now considered to be one of the smaller, obsolete, and less high-profile hulls herself.
He looked away from the commander and over to the crew standing at their stations on the bridge, all of them among the best the Earth and Confederation had to offer.
Obsolete my ass.
Alexandra Black pushed her hair off her sweat-slicked forehead, feeling as filthy as the rest of her under the jumpsuit that clung as she moved. She’d pulled all the pilots in her flight and made sure every one of them had checked out the aviation capabilities of their birds, and when that was done she’d dropped every Vorpal in the squad into sim-mode and started flight-training drills.
She would have preferred some more deep space-time, but that wasn’t going to happen while they were sitting on a deployment orde
r, so sim-time would have to do.
“Lieutenant Commander . . .” The CAG, Commander Hawkins, looked up as she stomped up to him in her magnetic boots. “Everything go well?”
“My squadron is combat ready,” Alexandra confirmed confidently.
“Good. I want you to handle indoc for a couple of the new squadrons we’re picking up. We won’t have long to get them up to speed, but let’s do what we can.”
“Of course, sir.”
Integrating new squadrons into their flight wing was going to be a rough job. Most of the best experienced pilots had moved on to other duties, which meant that the majority of those she was likely to be getting would be low-hour rookies with minimal deep-space hours in their jackets.
“I know it sucks, Alex,” Hawkins told her, “but better to iron out what we can now than let attrition do it for us.”
“I know, Jake. Just can’t help but wince at the thought of the work, is all.”
“You and me both, sister.” The CAG laughed. “Don’t sweat it. You’ve got a handle on this, and I’ll be taking what weight I can off those of you I have running indoc, but we’re all going to be crushed for time, make no mistake.”
“Roger that, sir.”
She knew he wasn’t joking by any means. With a deployment order imminent, everyone was about to be hammering their heads against the hull, trying to make time appear from nowhere.
If only there was a way to store the time we waste when we’re in stand-down and bring it out at moments like these, she thought.
If anyone could figure out how to make that sort of “time bank,” Alexandra had no doubt that she or he would be venerated as the Patron Saint of Military Personnel for all time left to come.
“I’m on it, sir.”
“Never a doubt, Lieutenant Commander.”
CHAPTER 10
AEV Odysseus, Forge Facility, Ranquil System
Solar plasma clung to the space-time field of the Odysseus as the big ship exploded out of the stellar corona and into open space beyond the Ranquil primary.
