The air in the CIC froze everyone in place, immobilized by the cadence of Mattu’s countdown. Susan had to remind herself to breathe.
“Three. Two. One. Impact.”
Even from its position some ten thousand kilometers away from the carnage, the camera feed from the drone platform they’d sent to shepherd the rock on its death plunge flashed brilliant white, then cut out entirely as the EM pulse and hard gamma radiation hit and forced the onboard AI into shutdown to protect itself. The main plot flipped automatically to a feed from the Ansari’s own onboard telescopes, each one several times more powerful than the original Hubble Observatory. The unbridled savagery of the explosion they’d unleashed left even Lieutenant Warner hushed in awe. The death of the Xre tender had pulverized not only the ship itself and the rock they’d thrown at it, but the two closest asteroids in the cluster, while breaking one of the larger ones further out into three pieces. The cluster had been reduced to a cloud.
“Holy shit,” was all Nesbit could muster.
“Do I need to bother with kill confirmation, Captain?” Warner asked.
“No, I think we got it in one,” Susan said. “Good work, everyone. That was … for once calling it awesome isn’t an overstatement, I think. How long until our drone reboots, Scopes?”
“Twenty seconds.”
“Good, get it up and burning away from there as soon as possible. That cruiser will be along soon enough to try and figure out what happened and I don’t want it giving the game away.”
FOURTEEN
“Impossible,” Dulac Kivits said. While the rest of the attendants in the mind cavern were silent, everyone’s expressions and posture conveyed a similar sentiment of stunned disbelief at the last few moments of timestream from the eyes of their now-destroyed annihilation fuel reservoir.
Everyone, that is, except Thuk.
“Hurg,” he said, drawing the attention of the recording alcove attendant. “Could you replay the…” He almost said “attack,” but caught himself before the word escaped. “… impact? Move back up the timestream to the moment the reservoir’s eyes spotted the meteor and begin, please?”
The fallen royal stared at the static playing out in the display surrounding the cavern, transfixed.
“Hurg?” Thuk prodded gently.
She gave herself a shake. “Yes, Derstu. Apologies.” Hurg’s claws fritted and danced over her alcove, peeling back time until the threat first came into focus.
“There,” Thuk said. “Begin again from there.” The timestream resumed. The meteor took up only a claw-tip at this point, but its considerable velocity meant it grew quickly in the display. The reservoir spotted it and reached out its meager talons to try and divert or destroy the threat, but it was like trying to turn back a kunji with a fishing spear. As spectacular as the firepower pouring out of the reservoir and into the front of the meteor was, Thuk’s eyes scanned everywhere but, looking for … he wasn’t sure what. Something that didn’t belong.
The front of the meteor glowed from the heat of light spears and the impacts of hundreds of sling bullets, but advanced without pause or mercy until it filled the screen. Then, the feed fell to the familiar chaos of background static as the reservoir’s song abruptly ended.
“Dulac?” Thuk said cheerfully, hoping to break the tension.
“Derstu?” Kivits said after a moment.
“Do you remember a few moons ago when we were planning this expedition and I said to the Chorus that we should seed the asteroids around the reservoir with eyespots in case an uncharted rock blundered into its path?”
“I … seem to recollect that, in passing.”
“And they said it was a waste of resources because the odds were so long?”
“Yes…”
“We should’ve placed a friendly wager with them. We could’ve retired early.”
“Heh, yes. Truly a missed opportunity,” Kivits said stiffly, but he could be forgiven for that.
“Bad luck, everyone. Take a break while your dulac and I decide what to do next. Go grab a hot plate. The crop is fresh.”
The rest of the room filed out quietly, still a bit dazed, but not nearly as frightened as they’d looked moments ago. Thuk caught the recording attendant by her arm. “Hurg, wait a moment, if you can spare the time?”
“As you need, Derstu.”
The door irised shut as the last attendant exited, leaving the three of them alone for the first time. Thuk looked long into each of their faces in turn: first Hurg, then Kivits. Only then did he speak.
“Are we all in agreement that what happened to our reservoir was not a random meteor impact?” They both clicked their affirmation. “Then we also agree that the humans just found and destroyed our source of annihilation fuel and reactant mass. The first Xre ship lost to enemy action since the last war, I believe.”
“Officially,” Kivits said.
“Officially,” Thuk granted.
“But…” Hurg said, then faltered as her superiors turned their heads toward her voice.
“Go on, Hurg,” Thuk said encouragingly. “We’re alone, no one to hear this triplet. I didn’t ask you to stay just to be a mute witness.”
“… I was going to say this still isn’t ‘Official.’ They hit it with a well-aimed rock, not a javelin or a light-spear. They can still feign innocence, because no matter how long the odds, we can’t conclusively prove it wasn’t a genuine accident.”
“Not sitting out here polishing our plates, we can’t,” Kivits said. “We need to get to the scene of the attack as quickly as possible, before any evidence drifts too far away. We should spin a seedpod immediately.”
“And jump right where the Ansari and that sharp-clawed captain of theirs is expecting us to show up? Even if we could win in the end, I’d rather not put my hand directly in their mouth to start the fight, thank you. Besides, we started this game when their husks fell to ‘accidents’ inside their territory. I’m sure their captain delighted at the opportunity to return the gesture on our reservoir.”
“How in the Abyss did they find the reservoir in the first place?” Hurg asked.
“That is an excellent question, Attendant,” Kivits said, pacing now.
“I concur. Although they have been awfully good at sniffing out the Chusexx twice already, they had some idea where to start looking. Are we sure they didn’t stick some sort of tracker on our hull in that first engagement? It would explain much.”
“We’ve been over the hull with a mandible brush, Derstu, you know that.”
“Yes, wishful thinking on my part. Because the alternative looks too much like someone told them where to look for our reservoir.”
“Surely you’re not saying someone in the Chorus is helping the humans? You must know how unhinged that sounds.”
Thuk wiggled a midarm to convey ambiguity. “I’m not making any specific accusations, I’m merely noting patterns and possibilities. I’ve felt, we both have, that we’re being pushed into a confrontation with this ship by the Dark Ocean Chorus. If that’s true, then it’s not the humans they would be helping by whispering the location of our reservoir, but their own plan.”
“Explain.”
“We’re out of time now. Without our reserves, we have to either go against their song and return home, or force the issue here and now.”
“That is an … unsettling thought, Derstu,” Kivits said.
“I join the dulac in that,” Hurg said.
“No other theory presents itself at the moment,” Thuk said. “I would simply love for one of you to come up with one better sewn for the facts.”
Neither could.
“So, here we are, what do we do about it?” Thuk said quietly.
“It was clever of you to make a show of good humors for the rest of our harmony, Derstu,” Kivits said. “But then why bring the two of us into your paranoia?”
“Because I know the two of you have shared it, as well as each other,” Thuk said lightly. The revelation of his knowledge h
it the floor like a heavy sack of milled gim shells.
“I would never—” Kivits started, but Thuk cut him off with a wave of a primehand.
“Oh don’t insult my senses, Kivits. I tasted your union in the clutching chamber. And I don’t care, not one grain. It was not an accusation, merely an observation. The point is we all have good reasons for our suspicions, and good reason to trust one another, yes?”
“And good leverage to assure our silence with the rest of the harmony,” Hurg said firmly, if quietly.
“It was not meant as leverage, or a threat, Hurg. What you do in your leisure time, and who you spend that time with, is not my concern, or that of the Chorus as far as I’m concerned.”
“Then what is it about?” Kivits demanded.
“Honestly? Because as you made clear in that conversation, Dulac, I’m to serve the interests of the Chusexx’s harmony, not lead it. Not make decisions for it. Which is why I need advisors. So I’m asking you, both of you. What in the Abyss do we do now that we know? Because I’m at a split in the path, and know not which way to walk.”
Unsurprisingly, Thuk’s plea was met with a considerable period of awkward silence. It was all well and good to pretend that a harmony’s derstu was merely a runner implementing the consensus, but it fell apart in practice. The derstu was there to blame when things went poorly because no one actually wanted to make the difficult decisions in the first place. This was the problem with arranging a society where everyone supposedly led. If everyone was a leader, no one was.
The embarrassed lovers exchanged anxious looks, until Kivits sunk on his four legs and Hurg touched Thuk on a midarm joint.
“We’re at the same split you are, Derstu. What do you think we should do?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Thuk said. “I think we should charge the treaty line, right here, right now.”
Kivits’s legs stiffened and he regained his full height. “You want to obey the Chorus’s song?”
“Of course. You think me discordant?”
“I just…” His mandibles clicked and reset. “I assumed you were trying to recruit us into supporting something more … incongruous.”
“We’re not across that line yet, Kivits. We are not so desperate that survival requires we refuse our Chorus song. I will obey, but I will do so on my terms, with full tanks and surprise in my sack, not desperation. But I wanted to make certain that you two, at the very least, knew exactly the conditions of ground we fight upon.”
“I’m not sure whether to thank you for that or not,” Kivits said without concealing his snark.
Thuk clapped a hand on the dulac’s shoulder. “What? We’re going into action, chasing fame and glory; it’s what we all dreamed of since the clutch. Get over to your alcove and find me one of the human’s husks to jump near. They need to see us charging for the line.”
“Excuse me, but…”
“Oh just speak freely already, Hurg.”
“Sorry,” she said demurely. “I just wanted to ask why you think the humans will cross the line to meet our charge this time when they didn’t take the bait before?”
“Because—” Thuk held up two fingers. “They will think we’re acting out of rage and desperation instead of cool calculation.” He ticked off a finger. “And second, because they’ve gotten a taste of blood now. We embarrassed them twice and they’ll feel emboldened to stack success on success. A careful study of their engagements in the last war reveals the human’s tendency to overreach when things are going well.”
“As you say, Derstu. Should we recall the other attendants?”
“No, let them finish their gims and pelas. Warriors fight better on a full stomach, don’t you think?”
Thuk looked at the three of them standing there alone in the mind cavern. A worker, an administrator, and a royal involved in their own little conspiracy of thought crimes. Except the royal was the only one working, the administrator was below even a worker’s status, and the worker believed himself in charge of both.
If only the queens could have seen this absurd spectacle, they might have elected to embalm themselves.
FIFTEEN
“Contact!” Mattu shouted. “Platform Six. Solid lock on Bandit One. It’s burning hard for the treaty line. Bearing three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five.”
“That took longer than expected,” Susan said.
“Maybe they were all in the head,” Warner joked.
Susan ignored her. “On the main plot if you please, Scopes.”
Mattu shunted the data from her Drone Integration Station over to the hologram at the heart of the CIC. An angry burning ember of an enemy contact glowed on the far side of the system just outside the treaty line on almost an exactly opposite bearing from where they’d destroyed the oiler not even two hours earlier. That surprised Susan as well. She’d expected them to bubble right on top of the site of the attack to investigate. It would’ve made for a great ambush point if she’d been so inclined.
Her opponent had again confounded her expectations.
“They’re not even bothering with stealth,” Warner observed.
“CL to the CIC,” Susan said into the 1MC, then turned back to the plot. “No, they sure aren’t. They may as well be running with their damned nav lights and docking floods on. We’re supposed to see them coming.”
“They’re pissed,” Miguel said from over her shoulder. “They’re spoiling for a fight this time and want to make sure we know when and where.”
“Maybe…” Susan scratched her chin. “Why didn’t they jump to their dead oiler? I’d want to have a look if it was me.”
Miguel shrugged. “They saw the gamma spike. They know the AM tanks lost containment. There’s nothing left to look at.”
“Warner, what’s your take?” Susan said.
“I think the XO has a good scan on it. Maybe we’re really lucky and they’re low enough on gas they didn’t want to waste reserves on a jump just to visit a ghost.”
“Wouldn’t that be a nice break.” Susan mulled it over, but it was futile. The Xre were forcing her hand; she had no option but to run out to face them. And, depending on how far they pushed her, to destroy them if duty called.
She sighed. “Prepare to make immediate jump to a point fifty thousand klicks inside the treaty line on matching bearing to Bandit One. Call the crew to battle stations.”
“Aye, mum,” Miguel said. “Charts, spin up Alpha and Beta rings, plot jump for bearing three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five, ending fifty kiloklicks inside the treaty line.”
“Warm up alpha and beta, three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five, blow bubble for fifty kiloklicks inside the Red Line, aye sir!” Broadchurch said.
“All hands, this is the XO,” Miguel’s voice boomed through the 1MC. “Battle stations. Repeat, battle stations. This is not a drill.”
“Warm up CiWS, get the counter-missiles in their tubes, and prep our shipkiller birds. Charge railgun and laser capacitors. Go full active on radar/lidar. They’re not bothering to hide so we may as well paint them like a fresco,” Susan said.
“CiWS and counter tubes hot. Ready boomers, bangers, and beams. Crank actives to eleven, aye!” Warner echoed with barely constrained glee.
Broadchurch turned in her chair to look at Miguel. “Alpha and beta rings charged, course plotted and laid into nav computer.”
“Blow the bubble, Charts,” Miguel said.
And they were off to the races.
Susan’s jaw tensed against the usual discomfort. She ignored it, the bubble popped an almost imperceptibly brief time later, and the angry glowing ember of Bandit One blazed directly ahead of her in the plot.
“Deploy drones, standard defensive shell formation. Put a monocle between us and Bandit One.”
Miguel repeated the order, Mattu echoed it, and the Ansari bucked ever so slightly as eight recon drones were booted out of their nests and raced out to fo
rm a sensor perimeter. One platform was a little lighter and faster than the others as it streaked through the black to take up position ten thousand kilometers ahead of its mother and in direct line of sight between Ansari and the Xre interloper. It was already in the process of deploying a flat lens made of multiple, concentric, metamaterial rings twenty meters across. All lasers, no matter how powerful and focused, diffused over long-enough distances, reducing their offensive power. The “monocle” drone was the CCDF’s answer, refocusing the beam in midflight so it hit the target with the same punch as if it had closed to knife-fighting range.
It was a devilishly difficult trick to pull off, keeping three independently maneuvering combatants in perfect alignment, especially when the one on the receiving end was so strongly motivated to keep it from happening. It was usually reserved for an ambush role. Most commanders wouldn’t even bother putting a monocle into play in an active battlefield.
But Susan wasn’t most commanders. To her, the “common knowledge” that it was useless to deploy one in a hot zone was the strongest recommendation she could think of to try it. If her own people wouldn’t expect and plan for it, neither would a Xre.
“Helm, take us three degrees off reciprocal bearing with Bandit One, but keep our keel guns pointed down their throat,” Susan said.
“Three degrees off bore, aye mum.” Broadchurch punched the command into their station. The Ansari answered the helm almost instantaneously and imperceptibly. The fusion rockets at her stern could vector their thrust up to twenty-seven degrees using the same magnetic constriction rings that kept the inconceivably hot plasma from contacting, and thereby vaporizing, their internal components.
“Status of Bandit One?”
“Unchanged, mum,” Mattu said. “Still burning hot and heavy straight for the line.”
“Have they deployed drones?”
“None that our platforms have picked up yet, mum. Not that it means much. They’re damned hard to spot even in ideal conditions.”
“Keep looking, Scopes. If we can poke out a few of their eyes, all the better.” Susan punched a string of commands into her chair. The data readout above the main plot changed to a countdown to the projected moment Bandit One would cross the treaty line, counting down both time and kilometers in bright crimson numerals.
In the Black Page 16
