by Isaac Hooke
“Forty percent?” Jonathan said. “That’s going to affect the laser output of the Avengers.”
“It’ll also impact their speed,” Harv said. “They’ll expel propellant a lot more slowly with forty percent less power.”
Jonathan sat back and pressed both hands together, splaying the joined fingertips. “Why didn’t any of the Earth fleets come up with this? They have some smart people. And they’ve had access to all your research—I gave NAVCENT the Callaway’s holographic drives two years ago.”
“Maybe they didn’t have a chance to research anything when the attack came,” Harv said. “From what you told us yesterday, the Elder and scavengers were relentless in their pursuit of all ships in the system. Even if someone did come up with the solution, the fleet probably had no time to implement it. Especially considering that they probably didn’t have existing retrofits they could simply tweak, like we do.”
“I suppose so,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe they thought the trade-offs weren’t worth it. There are other things to worry about out there than the nanobot beam. Specifically, those damn scavengers.” Ships that were once our own vessels.
“True,” Harv agreed. “I never said I offered a panacea.”
“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Jonathan told him. “How long would it take you to update the retrofits in our Avengers?”
“About three days.”
An alert flashed on his aReal. Jonathan enlarged the tactical display. Red dots had appeared outside the Slipstream Lǚxíng. He zoomed in.
“And what about if we had a few planet killers?” Jonathan said. “Would you be able to instruct the carrying vessels how to outfit themselves with a charged field the same way you did before we bombed the Raakarr homeworld? When you protected the Dammerung?”
“Of course I could,” Harv said. “We’d have to take a few more geronium rods from the delivery vehicles of the bombs than the last time, to compensate for the slightly larger size of the nanobots, but the technique is the same. It’s just too bad we don’t have any planet killers handy.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jonathan said. “You might want to have a look at your tactical display.”
THE SINO-KOREAN reinforcements had arrived, of course. Jonathan counted sixteen supercarriers in the bunch, and from the exaggerated breadth of half of them, he suspected the SKs had brought along all eight of their planet killers.
Repeaters near Mars had continued moving outward, and arrived close enough to the Gate half a day later, allowing Jonathan to contact the commander of the Sino-Korean fleet, Admiral Zang. The lag time between each message was forty minutes.
Via the translation provided by the AIs aboard each ship, Jonathan was able to update him on the situation, and confirmed in turn that the Sino-Korean fleet had eight planet killers with them, aboard their Liaoning-class supercarriers. The admiral expressed surprise and concern that the United Systems had acquired so many alien ships, though Jonathan suspected Zang already knew of the United Systems mission to Raakarr space because of SK moles. Though Zang probably didn’t know that the battle group had destroyed a homeworld instead of a simple colony. It was perhaps better that way.
Jonathan transmitted footage of their last battle with him, and told Zang he had a theoretical way to shield the supercarriers that harbored the planet killers from the nanobot beam. Jonathan had invited Miko and Robert to his office, and during the downtime between messages the three of them had come up with a preliminary plan, which Jonathan then shared with Zang.
Zang agreed to the plan in principal, but told him he had to discuss it with his advisers first. He promised to have an answer within eight hours. In the meantime, he invited Jonathan to share the charged field knowledge so that the Sino-Korean fleet could review the changes they would have to make to the Liaoning supercarriers containing the planet killers. Jonathan readily agreed: that wasn’t the time to be withholding technology.
Jonathan had Harv send over his instructions, and then he told Miko to hunker down with Maxwell and refine the plan. Jonathan held a captain’s conference four hours later, and updated the fleet on the situation. He had Miko present the plan, with the caveat that the Sino-Koreans hadn’t yet agreed.
The eight hour mark came and went, and the Sino-Koreans still hadn’t replied. Ten hours passed. Jonathan finally went to sleep in his stateroom.
The next morning there was no news from the Sino-Korean camp.
As he perused the updates from the department heads in his quarters, the soothing waves lapping against the virtual beach created by his aReal beside him, a call icon flashed in the lower right of his vision. It was Connie.
He connected to her in holographic mode.
She appeared in front of him.
“What can I do for you Lieutenant?” Jonathan said.
“I’ve been studying the recordings we made of the battle,” the chief scientist said. “On all EM frequencies. Paying specific attention to the super-suits.”
“And what did you find?”
“Not a whole lot, actually,” Connie said. “So I went back to the recordings we made on the greenhouse planet, back to when we first encountered the humanoids. I found that they were emitting psi-type wavelengths, similar to what Barrick produces. I believe they were communicating with one another.”
“How does that help us?” Jonathan asked.
“I’ve been reading up on the experiments the fleet has performed on telepaths over the years,” she said. “And I believe if we can blast them with the same psychic wavelength these humanoids use to communicate, we will disorient them, and perhaps knock them unconscious. They are, after all, ninety-nine percent human, genetics-wise.”
“Could we jury-rig the comm node aboard our cruiser to send out such a crippling wave?”
“No,” Connie said. “We’d have to specifically modify an Avenger. Replacing its laser with a focused EM emitter.”
“In turn rendering the involved Avenger essentially helpless,” Jonathan said.
“They would still have mag-rails,” Connie replied. “Plus the support of their wingmen.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to modify the Cobras aboard the fighters to penetrate the super-suits?” Jonathan said. “The same way you did with the laser rifles and the Knight mechs, to penetrate the Raakarr shielding?”
“I can certainly do that,” Connie said. “But what I’m proposing is a way to capture one of them during our next engagement. Alive.”
Jonathan had his aha moment. “Begin outfitting two of our fighters with the necessary emitter. And upgrade the Cobras on the rest to take down the super-suits, if you can. Involve Lieutenant Boroker.”
“Understood,” Connie said. “Thank you, sir.”
FINALLY, AT TEN hundred hours, Lazur informed him that the SK fleet had transmitted a message.
Zang had agreed to the plan, but had made several changes, which he asked Jonathan to review and accept. Also, Zang’s weapons engineers had looked at the information Harv had sent, and it seemed doable, but they had questions and wanted access to the lieutenant.
Jonathan summoned Miko to his office and discussed the alterations to the plan. When neither Miko nor Maxwell objected to the changes, Jonathan reached out to Zang and told him the battle group agreed. Jonathan didn’t care if his “capitulation” to Zang made him appear weak to the other United Systems captains; all that concerned him was saving Earth in that moment. If that meant agreeing to a few superficial changes to the battle plan so that he could get access to planet killers, then so be it.
He also gave Harv permission to work directly with the Sino-Koreans. Remotely, of course. Lastly, Jonathan had Maxwell update the status markers of the Sino-Korean fleet, changing them to friendly; on the tactical map, the dots representing their two hundred ships shifted from red to blue.
Harv kept Jonathan updated on their progress with the charged fields as the SK fleet made its way toward the moon. The Sino-Koreans required a full day to open up the delive
ry vehicles in the planet killers to retrieve the necessary geronium rods, and another week to 3D-print and install the necessary extensions into the main reactor cores of the supercarriers that harbored the weapons.
When that was done, the eight ships held activation tests in turn. The charged fields worked flawlessly for the most part, and their properties matched Harv’s specifications almost to a T. One of the supercarriers burned out a quarter of its reactors, however. Harv worked with the affected vessel and quickly determined the issue, and after repairs were completed three days later, the final supercarrier passed the test run.
The Elder vessel and scavengers in orbit around Earth paid the the SK fleet no heed, and the newcomers reached the moon without incident. Their craft were all super sleek versions of their United Systems equivalents, very needle-like, save for the Liaoning supercarriers that harbored the planet killers.
When the SKs joined the battle group, Jonathan and Zang held one last captain’s meeting involving every member of the combined fleet, and together they reviewed the final plan. The AI software automatically translated what Jonathan said into Sino-Korean and vice versa when Zang and his captains spoke. Jonathan announced that the fleet would proceed at oh eight hundred the next morning.
When the meeting was adjourned, Jonathan logged out of virtual reality and found himself in his office once more.
The missed call icon was flashing on the lower right of his vision. The MA guarding the outer bridge hatch, Petty Officer Reinald, had called him during the meeting.
Odd.
Jonathan tapped in. “What can I do for you, Petty Officer?”
“Captain, there’s a man here who wants to see you. He says he’s an SCS operative.”
Jonathan frowned. The Special Collection Service was a black budget spy program run by the intelligence branch of the United Systems government.
What the hell do they want?
eighteen
Jonathan paused the connection. “Maxwell, who exactly is standing outside my bridge?”
“Intelligence Specialist First Class Charles Vance,” Maxwell replied. “According to his public profile, he is an IS-3913.”
“A thirteen? Aren’t those the people who typically conduct interrogations?”
“That is one of the duties of an IS-3913, yes,” the Callaway’s AI said. “The full position is described as ‘Navy Tactical Counter-Intelligence and Human Intelligence Specialist.’ But keep in mind that most higher ranking SCS operatives utilize false personae.”
“I see. I don’t suppose there’s a way you can ferret out his real rank and rating?”
“No, Captain,” Maxwell replied.
“Is he clean at least?” Jonathan asked.
“He is unarmed, and his profile matches with the information stored in the fleet’s cloud database,” Maxwell said. “If that’s what you mean by clean.”
“It is,” Jonathan said. He sighed, then reengaged the MA. “All right. Let him in, Reinald. And point him to my office.”
“Aye sir,” the petty officer replied.
In moments a man dressed in ordinary khakis entered the office. His clean-shaven face was nondescript, with average eyes, nose, and mouth. His cropped hair was cut just right: not too short, not too long. His uniform was well-pressed, but not perfectly so. He was the type of man who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, with features witnesses would struggle to recall. The perfect sort of man you’d want as an SCS operative.
The chevrons on his sleeve marked him as a petty officer first class, as Maxwell had said. Jonathan double checked his profile. IS-3913.
“May I sit, Captain?” Vance beckoned toward the seat. His behavior was almost obsequious, though the fact he had spoken first showed he considered himself above Jonathan in rank.
The captain clenched his jaw slightly, then nodded.
The man sat.
“I’d like permission to take a team to the Elder ship,” Vance said. “Myself, two MOTHs, and three combat robots, aboard a Dragonfly possessing the necessary charged field technology to protect against the Elder weapon.”
Jonathan stared at the man for several moments.
He knows about the charged field tech. Definitely must be SCS.
“What interest does the Special Collection Service have in the Elder ship?” Jonathan said.
“That is classified, of course,” Vance said.
“I see. And how exactly are you going to board the Elder vessel? I doubt you’re going to cut your way inside, given that neither our lasers nor nukes can barely make a dent in the hull.”
“Also classified,” Vance said.
Jonathan pursed his lips. “You make it very hard for me to agree to put the lives of my MOTHs and Centurions at risk, when I know nothing about the mission.”
“Let me just say, there are numerous Elder wreckages the SCS has studied. I assure you, there is a way in.”
Jonathan leaned forward. “Have you been withholding information that could have helped us breach these ships?”
“No,” Vance said. “At least, not in the way you are thinking. My particular means of entrance will only open to me when the Dragonfly is near. The compartment beyond is highly shielded, much like the hull, and if any nukes or lasers were to impact, the damage would be negligible. However, in addition to my main, classified task, I can reveal that my team will also bring with it a nuke. We intend to place it deep inside the ship, though we’re unsure what the damage will be. It all depends on how effective the Elder are at yield containment.”
Jonathan regarded him suspiciously. “So you want to place a nuke, too, you say? Is this a suicide mission for the MOTHs involved?”
“It may be, yes,” Vance said. “I will accept combat robots alone if that makes the decision any easier for you.”
Jonathan crossed his arms. “Tell me, have you been hiding aboard my ship all this time? Why wait until now to request this mission, on the eve of our final attack run?”
“I was stationed aboard the Leviathan. I escaped in a lifepod before its destruction and made my way to the far side of the moon. The Callaway retrieved me a few days ago. I hadn’t been able to secure a proper spacesuit for the trip, and as you probably know, lifepods are poorly shielded against cosmic radiation. After coming aboard, I was unable to function because of the radiation poisoning. I spent the last few days recovering.”
Jonathan studied the man. Then he made up his mind.
“We have less than one week until the Earth permanently loses its magnetosphere,” Jonathan said. “Despite your clearance, I can’t authorize the mission. It’s too risky. If you do succeed in boarding the craft, your presence could cause the Elder to accelerate their plans to destroy our planet. Or it might anger them enough to dispatch half of their scavengers our way. We have a real chance of causing damage in our next attack run, more-so than any single nuke smuggled aboard could do. I’m unwilling to put that all at risk.
“Besides, do you seriously think you have a chance? Even if you have a way to board the Elder ship, you have no idea what sort of resistance you’ll face inside. Your team will probably be swarmed with nanobots as soon as they set foot on the deck, and you’ll all be transformed, spacesuits and all, into an organic mess. My answer is no.”
“Lieutenant Harv Boroker tells me he can fashion personal charged fields that will protect our suits from any nanobot attack,” Vance said.
“I don’t care,” Jonathan said. “You can’t go.”
Vance inclined his head. “As you wish.”
THE FLEET APPROACHED for the attack run. The scavengers broke from orbit, launching their disintegration and fragment bombs at the eight vessels that carried the planet killers. The incoming weapons dodged the shield of mortars and nukes the United Systems had laid and struck the planet killer ships. The vessels were lost. The fleet continued onward, but beneath the Elder ship, the Earth’s crust exploded away, leaving behind only the molten mantle. Hundreds of ghosts filled Jonathan’s vision, adding to the
pile of dead that already weighed heavily on his conscience, until the stack of corpses clambered far into the sky.
He woke. He was frigid, and slicked in sweat. He had been having the same recurring nightmare of late. He hadn’t had dreams such as these since Barrick was aboard, and that bothered him.
Is someone, or something, trying to infiltrate my mind?
His stateroom didn’t observe the new psi shielding rules yet—the Callaway didn’t have access to the necessary materials for the upgrade, as they had depleted their stock on shielding the bridge, as well as upgrading the jumpsuits and mechs. No one else in the fleet had any supplies, so restocking would have to wait until they reached a viable dry dock.
It very likely wasn’t a psi attack at all, of course, but rather his unease regarding the upcoming mission, which just so happened to manifest itself in his dreams. Even so, to be on the safe side he’d started practicing his psi defense training each night before he went to sleep.
It hadn’t helped.
There was a persistent flashing on the nightstand beside him, synced to a slight buzzing. Someone was trying to reach him on his aReal.
“Lights,” he growled. The HLEDs overhead slowly brightened, giving his eyes time to adjust.
He sat up and donned the glasses. The usual lapping waves of the white-sand beach replaced the bulkhead beside him, and instead of a bunk he now sat on a hammock tied between two trees. The scene calmed his frayed nerves somewhat.
He checked the time. Oh six hundred. Two hours before the planned strike.
He glanced at the call icon in the lower right. It was the fifth watch officer of the deck. He tapped the man in, voice-only.
“Hello sir,” the lieutenant said. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this early hour, but I’ve noticed something odd.”
Jonathan lifted his aReal momentarily to rub his eyes. “Tell me.”
“A shuttle departed hangar bay five about an hour ago,” the lieutenant said. “One of those we had outfitted with a charged field generator. It had full launch clearance. I assumed it was simply a scheduled supply shuttle, perhaps destined for the Raptor. But when I saw that its trajectory was taking it around the moon, I thought I better inform you. To be on the safe side.”
