The Gray Matter (Rebels and Patriots Book 3)

by A. G. Claymore

  “Very well,” Robin acknowledged. “Launch shuttles to search for survivors.”

  She stared intently at the playback on the holo. Shortly after the three fighters got through the wormhole, the Gray fleet had jumped. If only she’d managed to stop them, the enemy might not have escaped.

  She knew she’d have to fight those same ships again, sooner or later.

  The Road Ahead

  Tony looked down at his mug in surprise. “What is this?”

  “Real coffee,” Julia said. “It grows on trees out here.” Of course, here didn’t refer to Masra, the dry world was simply the most convenient point to meet up with Ava’s fleet.

  The privateer commodore had just returned from cutting a swath of destruction through Gray territory bordering the colonies. Every planet that could support military operations had been bombarded, every station smashed.

  Tony stared at Julia for a moment, then looked around at the group gathered in her quarters aboard the Dark Star. “Are you telling me they took a product that’s manufactured in a chemical production line and found a way to make a tree produce it?”

  The colonials in the room chuckled.

  “The colony ships were sent out a long time ago,” Paul explained. “Back then, we still remembered where our food came from. They were sent with seeds for coffee plants, pear trees, even ovum for cattle, pigs, chickens...”

  Tony frowned down at his drink, clearly not understanding what the animals were or how they related to the beef, or pork he got from vats, but the coffee had been the original focus. “So, this stuff started out coming from plants?”

  Paul nodded. “Then Imperial industry stepped in and developed a way to cut the labor out of the equation and you get the coffee bags we’re used to.”

  “How about that,” Tony mused to himself. “It’s definitely better.” He looked up, casting a nervous glance at Brother N’Zim before looking at Julia. He might be enlightened, by Human standards, but Imperials mostly had a dislike for all aliens. “So, Govi Darkhan?”

  “Govi Darkhan,” she affirmed. “Brother N’Zim here has heard rumors about their research program.” She leaned forward to activate the holo above her coffee table. An image of the targeted planet shimmered into view between them.

  “The complex in orbit has the shipyards and resupply nodes.” She enlarged the image to show the station, roughly five kilometers in diameter with long arms stretching out in all directions. She slid the view down to the base of the space elevator filament, on the surface of Govi Darkhan.

  “This structure was enlarged five months ago and several shiploads of research personnel have moved in.” She waved at the insectoid alien monk. “Brother N’Zim believes he knows what their purpose is.”

  “One of the ships captured at the Goats Head Nebula was involved in the transport of scientists to Govi Darkhan,” the monk croaked. “The officers knew nothing but the crewmen, of course, had spent time with the scientists, getting them settled aboard the ship and showing them the emergency procedures.”

  He laughed, a dry rattling croak that made Tony’s shoulders draw together in alarm. “It doesn’t matter what species; it’s always the crewmen who know what’s going on. The scientists were very upset about the attack on Tel Ramh and they felt it was their duty to make the Imperium pay for it.

  “Tel Ramh?” Julia leaned forward. “They’re working to resurrect their wormhole program?”

  N’Zim slashed his clawed hand from left to right, indicating how strongly he felt about the subject. “They must not be allowed to build such ships,” he insisted. “If they do, they can dominate other species and they won’t hesitate to eliminate any species that stands in their way.”

  A chill went up Julia’s spine. This was the first time the enigmatic monk had volunteered information so quickly. His kind were always trying to get others to talk, only doling out enough information to keep the conversation going. N’Zim was clearly worried about what mischief the Grays might be cooking up and, if he was worried…

  “We need to go to Govi Darkhan,” she said. “We need to destroy it, if we must, but I think we should seize it, if we can.”

  N’Zim looked at her in apparent surprise but, before he could speak, Tony cut in. “Absolutely. They’ve already resurrected the program once. We need to ensure we have the same capability because, sooner or later, they’ll manage to produce more than a single prototype and they’ll come after us. If we can do the same to them, it’ll make em think twice.”

  “Still,” Paul cut in, “it could cause the war to fizzle out before it even gets going. Govi Darkhan is already their last major logistics node on this side of their territory. If they lose their research program along with it…”

  “Then they might just get desperate enough to sue for peace,” Ava finished for her brother. She held up a finger. “Our primary objective was to protect the colonies from the Grays and I think an armistice will achieve that. We’ve become too strong for them to risk an attack now.”

  She extended a second finger. “The secondary objective of keeping vulnerable but strategically important Rim worlds safe from attack will have been dealt with after we hit Govi Darkhan.” She cast a wary eye at Tony as she extended a third finger.

  “Lastly, we wish to avoid the spread of Imperial influence among the colonies. Our quality of life is superior. We don’t have a bloated aristocracy or administration to support out here and we’d like to keep it that way. A full war was considered the lesser of many evils, when we set out, but now it seems unnecessary.

  “If the Imperial military is sent here, the senate will expect to see a financial return on the investment and that return will come at the cost of our independence.”

  “Is it so onerous,” Tony asked quietly, “to be an Imperial citizen?”

  Ava snorted in amusement. “For a senator like you? I’m sure it’s a lovely existence but, for the poor?” She looked up at him. “I’ve been a citizen. Paul and I lived in a hole in the rock on Hardisty until our father sacrificed himself to save us from being sold into indentured servitude. In the Imperium, hard work is simply expected of folks like us. Here, in the colonies, hard work can lead to advancement.

  “My brother managed to advance through the Marine Corps and through the patronage of your family but that’s a billion to one shot.” She looked at Paul. “No offense, little bro. I know you earned your success but there are millions of citizens just like you that died in the streets without a credit to their names.”

  “No offense taken,” Paul replied with a grin. “I know there was a lot of luck involved.” He waved his mug at her. “She’s right, Tony. The colonies are a better place for the average citizen and it would be a shame to ruin the place with a horde of Imperial tax collectors. Let’s just grab Govi Darkhan and see what happens.”

  Tony took another sip from his mug and sat there for a moment, staring down at the steaming liquid as though searching for an omen. In the end, the quality of the beverage convinced him they were telling the truth about life in the colonies. He looked back up at Paul. “What the hell,” he said. “We’ve got an Ixtab class assault-craft I’ve been itching to try out…”

  The Ixtab, named for an ancient suicide deity, was a disposable docking platform for planetary assaults. It carried troop shuttles during high speed atmospheric insertions. The shuttles were launched just before the Ixtab herself thundered into the ground.

  It was time to roll the final die.

  And the goddess of suicide would be unleashed on the Grays.

  Govi Darkhan

  NGark opened a separate holo to examine the feed coming from his vizier. After four days of guarding Govi Darkhan, he was starting to wonder if he’d read his enemies wrong. They were supposed to be an impetuous species and, yet, where were they?

  “As I said,” the vizier repeated respectfully, “nothing more than a faint reflection and only for the briefest of moments. Hardly evidence of an assault fleet.”

  “But a
t the very edge of our detection range,” NGark replied, still studying the seemingly insignificant sensor return. “Exactly where we would expect the Humans to employ their Hasty Ferrets.”

  He turned a fierce look toward his vizier. “Do you know what nature abhors?”

  “A vacuum?”

  “A coincidence. What we are seeing here is just one of a squadron of enemy scout ships and the fleet will be twice as far out, studying the data from their scouts and preparing to micro-jump down our throats.”

  And NGark would be fighting with the gravity well at his back.

  He’d never won a fight by doing what the enemy expected of him and he wasn’t about to try it now. “Tactical, signal the fleet to stand by for a micro jump. Fifth Squadron will remain here to guard the station.”

  He reached out to a point that was roughly twice as far away as the sensor ghost of what he fervently hoped was a Hasty Ferret. He closed his thumb and forefinger to create a location marker. “All other ships will jump to this point as soon as they confirm the coordinates.”

  ***

  “Tamade!” Vampire cursed quietly. “The general was right about the enemy commander, alright.”

  His Hasty Ferret was all alone, unless you counted the enemy fleet that had just dropped out of distortion all around them, but Vampire didn’t count them. Aside from his sensor operator, he felt very alone. “Looks like they all dropped out with us astern. They probably won’t think to look for us.”

  “Well, that’s the first phase of the battle going according to plan,” Fungus, his sensor tech admitted grudgingly. “But that just means we’re storing up the bad joss and, when this goes sideways, we’ll be right in the gods-damned center of the shit storm.”

  Vampire’s Hasty Ferret squadron had been stretched out in front of the enemy world but Vampire’s own scout ship had been stationed where the fleet would usually be sitting. The fleet was twice as far out this time and Vampire’s job was to relay data from the rest of his squadron as well as locate the enemy when they dropped out of their micro-jump.

  General Urbica had seemed pretty sure they were going up against a commander who’d recognize the scout screen and that he’d attempt to take the initiative away from the Human attackers.

  Vampire saved the current holo trace and appended it to the data queue. “Send the contact report, Fungus.”

  “As soon as I can,” Fungus hedged. “We’ve got a goucaode heavy cruiser in the way but she’s moving along with the rest of the bastards.” He shook his head. “You rarely see the Marines dusting off their Ferrets.”

  “Marines?” Vampire snorted with the derision that usually came up when Navy men discussed Marines, or vice versa. “Like putting ballet slippers on a rhino.”

  “And most of the hangar space on their carriers is filled with Iron Hands and Hedgehog Shuttles?” Fungus suggested helpfully.

  “And logistics shuttles to support ground ops,” Vampire allowed.

  “Cruiser’s out of the way,” Fungus announced. “Sending now.”

  “Send them a continuous feed as long as the beam won’t be intercepted,” Vampire ordered.

  The report shot past the stern of the cruiser, the laser beam undetectable by the enemy.

  “Now we just wait for the fight to start,” he said quietly.

  ***

  NGark missed cursing. It had been centuries since his blood had run hot enough for it and he’d quite forgotten what phrases he’d used. “They’ve set a trap,” he declared, the tilt of his head betraying his rage. “They’ve set a trap and I’ve blundered straight into it, all the while thinking I’d been so clever.”

  “Shall we jump?” The tactical officer hovered his hand over an emergency override that would give him helm control.

  “No,” NGark gazed pointedly at the officer’s hand until he withdrew it. “Move the fleet into a globe defense. If we’re going to fight, we can at least fight without a planet at our backs. The only reason to jump from here is to escape the fight. Deploy mines in the center, but only the inner half of the radius.”

  “Wormhole opening,” the vizier warned.

  “Launch everything that flies.” NGark had never considered using Khlen shuttles for space combat, but he’d been forced to leave most of his fighters behind at Irricana. “Concentrate them in the center of our globe, but make sure they know to stay clear of the mines in the very center.”

  There were far too few aviation assets left to him. He’d never be able to form an effective screen around his defensive formation and he was reasonably certain the enemy fighters would head for the center. None of the Gray main guns would be able to fire on the center, as they’d be facing outward, and the few secondary batteries that could bear on the inside of the formation would run the risk of hitting friendly ships on the far side.

  He knew he was limiting his firepower but the enemy would put capital ships behind him if he assumed a line or planar formation; they did have a wormhole generator after all.

  “Fornication,” he muttered quietly. It didn’t sound quite right. He knew it had been something of that nature, but cruder, somehow. Anyway, he’d just have to adjust his forces once the enemy was committed to one side of his globe.

  The fighters came swarming through, streaming past two squadrons of heavy gunships and heading for the center as NGark had predicted. They were spitting out a hail of projectiles as they spread to flow through the gaps in the defensive formation.

  And the lead fighters flew straight into the minefield.

  In a matter of heartbeats, the lead Human squadron was wiped out but the following attackers mimicked the Gray fighters and stayed in the outer region of the center, dogfighting near the engines of the capital ships.

  The Gray fighters were hammering the Humans in the enclosed confines of the chosen battlespace where the enemy couldn’t bring their superior numbers to bear and the odds were beginning to swing in their favor.

  But that was on the inside.

  “They are deploying their artificial singularity devices,” the vizier warned. “Jumping will not be an option.”

  More Human ships continued to pour through the wormhole, both Imperial and privateer, and NGark was stunned at the numbers. It was the largest force he’d seen yet and he knew they were more than triple the size of his own forces.

  The battle was lost.

  His mind drifted to the self-destruct devices aboard his ships but he dismissed the thought angrily. The Quorum would not be saved by the suicide of its crews. Far better to go down fighting.

  “Bring us into a planar formation facing the wormhole,” he commanded. He tilted his head back, ever so slightly, as he looked at the open wormhole. It led to a region of space where the artificial singularities wouldn’t affect jump drives.

  Perhaps what the Quorum really needed was to be saved from itself.

  “Cone formation,” he demanded. “Same orientation. Fighters to the flanks.”

  ***

  “Looks like they’re trying to leave the party,” the tactical officer advised Robin. “They’re forming a swine-head and it looks like they’re going to force their way through the wormhole.”

  Robin enlarged the view of the wormhole. “They’re still in the center of our forces. They’ll take a hell of a beating before they get clear.”

  “Should just move this end of the wormhole to the local star,” a helmsman muttered. “I like a nice fried Gray…”

  “Too late for that,” Robin told him, grinning as the startled man turned to look at her. “They already have fighters in the hole so we can’t change the geometry. We’ll just have to kill whatever comes out this end.”

  She sincerely hoped the forces on the other side could thin them out a bit first.

  ***

  “Two more frigates lost,” the tactical officer warned just as a round penetrated the forward shields.

  NGark’s arm nearly moved to shield his face as the round gouged an opening in the outer hull near the security t
erminal. His clone body was so far removed from the original instinct-laden body of his species that his almost-reflex was more of a distant memory.

  The metal gel beneath the outer skin of the hull, catalysed by exposure to vacuum, quickly expanded to seal the tear and save the bridge crew, or most of it.

  NGark turned away from the security operator whose hindquarters protruded from the foam sealant. “We hold our formation,” he admonished, dragging a ship’s icon from the interior of the formation to replace a lost frigate on the flanks. “If they carve out an opening, they’ll pour in like carrion crawlers and consume us from the inside out.”

  They were already feeding on the carcass from the outside. Another five ships lost acceleration and one of them was hit from behind by an undamaged ship whose crew had been too slow to react. The wreckage drifted back through the still accelerating fleet as ships dodged both the damaged vessels and the undamaged ones that blocked their evasive maneuvers.

  It was a shambles, but that was the very nature of a retreat. He was leaving a squadron of ships at the planet – there wasn’t time to bring them along. Likewise the ground troops guarding the research station on the surface.

  They, at least, should make the enemy think twice about trying to seize the place. His nictitating eyelids stopped halfway across his eyes.

  What if the Humans were planning to land their Marines?

  “Emergency message to Fifth Squadron,” he ordered abruptly. “They’re to destroy the orbital station and ground facility and then jump for Home World.”

  By now, his crew knew not to question his orders and the transmission was sent just before the damaged carrier entered the mouth of the wormhole.

  ***

  “Seven hostiles identified,” the tactical officer stated calmly as the holo replaced the image of the battle with a new scene showing the Xipe Totec and her escorts in orbit around Govi Darkhan. “Engaging.”

  Tony knew he didn’t need to interfere. Harrison was his fleet tactical officer and he knew how to prioritize targets.