by Ken Britz
Invisible Enemy
Ken Britz
Copyright © 2019 by Ken Britz
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
JOIN MY NEWSLETTER CLUB
Invisible Enemy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!
NEWSLETTER CLUB
About the Author
Also by Ken Britz
JOIN MY NEWSLETTER CLUB
Ken Britz’s Club members get free content and behind the scenes information regarding new works.
Members are always the first to hear about Ken’s new books and publications.
See the back of the book for details on how to sign up.
To my friends, who support me in whatever I do.
Invisible Enemy
Ken Britz
1
Tian-7 Fleet Station
Wolf System, Childress Orbit
0955 Universal Zulu (U.Z.)
1254.11.11 After Fall (A.F.)
Captain Karine Kenga watched the Hegemonic Fleet Subspace Ship Hidden Knife slip her moorings, the sparks of maneuvering thrusters rippling in cadence. Her running lights were on, illuminating a gleaming black hull, her shadow passing over the transalum lunette as the Arbitrator class subspace ship left Tian-7 Station. It wasn’t often she saw a ship like hers depart for deep space, and she admired Hidden Knife’s sleek, elegant design. Hidden Knife had the standard spaceship configuration—main engines aft, compression core towards the center of gravity. But beyond that, the Arbitrator subspace ship differed greatly from a standard fleet vessel.
Unlike the double-hulled construction of standard space fleet spaceships, Hidden Knife had a triple hull—stealth-grade outer hull, an inner hull containing quarters for the crew to live in relative comfort against the hard vacuum of space, and in between, the subspace field generator hull, the achievement that made subspace ships work. The subspace hull encapsulated the Hidden Knife and held her beyond the four real dimensions in a higher-dimensional or n-dimensional space (spacen or subspace as it was commonly known). There, the Hidden Knife maintained all the aspects of a real space ship while in subspace—motion, velocity, etc., but she was invisible to real space instruments.
The Hidden Knife’s thrusters pulsed rhythmically as she turned away, and Stig showed aggressiveness in operating her forward gravitic impeller, testing his ship to her fullest combat ability. Her secondary thrusters were inert black holes. It was ironic that the impellers worked best on smaller ships and not the massive dreadnoughts and battlecruisers that were lynchpins of greater interstellar fleets, but it was perfect for the subspace because, while slower than fusion thrust, the impeller was undetectable. The combination of subspace and gravitic made these ships the top predators in the Hegemonic Federation Fleet. Kenga wondered if the exploratory ancestors of the Subspace Fleet knew they were destined to be more than vessels of nonintrusive exploration. But how could they have known that humanity found their part of the galaxy nearly devoid of life?
Hidden Knife was headed to Sol system where the first core world Earth lay in Hegemonic Federation control. Along with Xīngqiú in Wolf system, there were two core worlds under the Hegemony. That left Proxima Centauri system and Kinnara, the last of the three core worlds, alone. Kinnara did have most of the Galactic League patronage worlds behind her against the Triumvirate and Hegemonic Federation.
Kenga’s gaze slid to her own reflection. She still wore her dress blacks, the least ship-ready of all her attire—medals anchored for zero gravity, white gloves, garrison cover, belt, and polished boots all felt beautifully archaic. She wanted to be back in her flight suit and aboard the Kuro Hai, Hidden Knife’s sister ship. She shifted her attention to Childress. It was a small world, much like Mars of the Sol system, dotted with many large lakes but no oceans. She thought about home, of her time before the war, when her months of leave found her aboard her racing yacht, enjoying the whipping winds and storms of Midgard-Sekai. She’d almost forgotten what it was like in the decasolyar since she’d last been home, but she could still summon up the sting of wind and taste of salt spray. She closed her eyes and sighed. She was there among the waves, and her hips swayed with the motion.
The door behind her slid open and Vice Admiral Kamal Zeng entered the room. She turned, at attention, but before she’d settled into position, the admiral waved it away with a smile.
“You’re early,” he said in his baritone. “Did you cut out of the reception?”
“You said you wanted to see me, sir.” Kenga pulled off her cover, sweeping a strand of ash blond hair from her face. The moment of feeling back home passed, and Kenga realized she didn’t need shore leave. She should be in space with a ship full of torpedoes.
“How’s the Kuro Hai?” Zeng said, shaking her hand firmly. He smelled of ship’s soap and leather.
“Considering I’ve just watched my Executive Officer cast off as the captain of the Hidden Knife? A bit stung, sir.”
The vice admiral crossed to his desk, the impatience clear in his manner. “I’m sure you’ll make do without Stig. Have a seat. We don’t have a great deal of time.”
Kenga sat down across from him.
He tapped a button on his desk and the transalum lunette went black. “Your terminal, please.”
Kenga pulled her terminal from inside her immaculate suit, medals clicking. The terminal chirped, letting her know she was in a privacy field in the vice admiral’s office—no transmissions in or out were possible.
He took it from her, and took out another, identical to the first.
New patrol orders already. It was the only reason she was here. Thoughts of Midgard-Sekai fled. “Am I to receive a briefing, sir?”
“All in good time. This first part is a rush.” He transferred orders to her terminal and checked the chronometer on his desk. “Do you want a drink?”
Kenga frowned. She’d known the vice admiral for more than a decasolyar and she’d never been invited to have a drink with him in private. This was a first. What did it mean?
“What’s your personal stash, Captain?” the vice admiral asked.
Kenga smiled. “Brandy, sir.”
“Midgard-Sekai?” Zeng pressed a wall panel. It slid back, exposing a bar.
“Of course. It’s a special reserve my family makes. A blend, really. We mix it with a bit of rum from the southern isles.”
The admiral raised an eyebrow. “I’d ask you to fetch a bottle, but Kuro is on the other side of the station and we won’t quite have time for that. Tell me more about her.”
Kenga tucked her gloves into her belt. “Our attacks on Kinnara system transports went well. The crew needs some rest after
the four-month patrol, but if the Admiralty needs Kuro Hai, I’m ready to take her back into the fight, sir.”
“You’re giving me a briefing. I want to know what you think of your crew. I want to know about Kuro’s lifeblood.” He handed her a glass of brandy.
Kenga’s fingers closed around it. She’d been a subspacer for decasolyars and it took time for her fingers to get used to an open glass—a treat in Tian’s spin gravity. She sniffed the brandy. Not Midgard-Sekai, of course. “I’ve been Kuro’s captain for a two full solyars now, since she launched from the Wolf shipyard orbital. She’s got some of the best subspacers I’ve ever served with—minus an excellent Exec. Thank you for recognizing Stig, sir.”
“He’s had a good command under you, and we’re building subspace ships as fast as we can. The Arbitrators are putting the Galactic Fleet on their heels. Damn good sharks. You know we lost Tora Hai and Occult last month.” Zeng poured two glasses of Scotch.
“Tora?” Kenga repeated. “Magda Inoue’s boat. An Arbitrator? Was it combat?”
Zeng shrugged. “Charlie’s Occult ran into a picket of corvettes. Damned unlucky, but Tora? She never returned from patrol. That’s one reason I needed Stig.”
She swirled the dark amber liquid in her glass. She’d known Magda. She was tough and disciplined. Charlie Kim was hotheaded and lucky. Until he wasn’t.
“Do you trust them?” the vice admiral said of her crew. The door chimed. “Just a moment.” He opened a discreet door. A dark-haired woman in a subspace black flight suit stepped in with an air of authority. Kenga knew at once who she was. Subspace Fleet Admiral Radachi.
Kenga snapped to attention.
“At ease, captain,” Radachi said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She had a silver streak in her tightly wound hair. “I’m not here… formally.” She accepted a glass from Zeng. “Have you briefed her, Kamal?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve been quizzing her about her crew.”
“To answer your question, sir, I trust my crew implicitly,” Kenga said, her mind catching up to what was happening.
“You’ll have to trust them with your life,” Zeng said.
“Kuro is due for some R&R after your war patrol,” Radachi said.
“The crew might need a bit of rest, but Kuro is ready.”
“You could go home to Midgard-Sekai, Captain,” Radachi said.
“Not with an interstellar civil war going on, ma’am.”
Radachi smiled. “How do you feel about that?”
“I feel that my duty is to my fleet. My home world is part of the Hegemony.” Kenga suppressed a smile. Radachi knew Kenga hadn’t been home, knew she’d been doggedly pursuing the Galactic Fleet.
“And how do you feel about the Galactic League?”
Kenga examined her drink. That was a hard question, though as the solyars went by, it got easier…
Radachi reclined in one of Zeng’s chairs, crossing her legs and throwing an arm over the back. The vice admiral sat on the edge of his desk. They were attending her, not the other way around. A big ask was coming, even of a subordinate.
Kenga drank, letting the brandy warm her insides, loosening her tongue. “Many of the GLF are people we know, so I don’t harbor ill will toward them, if that’s what you mean, ma’am.”
“Your war patrols and your reports mark you as a bold tactician, but you don’t kill unnecessarily.”
Kenga waited. Her record spoke for itself. She took every opportunity to cripple the enemy, but she wasn’t bloodthirsty. Radachi had hit upon something, though. Kenga thought about her last patrol, how she almost enjoyed crippling the enemy and that memory sickened her. Was she at the end of her tether? Would she snap?
Radachi smiled. “This isn’t a tribunal, Captain. We’re impressed with your record. I don’t think we’ve seen a more daring and successful subspacer.” Her smile faded, and she leaned forward. “We have a mission for you. One that comes from Fleet Admiral Mercer himself, and one that I have deeply mixed feelings about.”
Radachi drank, staring at the blackened transalum viewport, as if she could see through it into space beyond. “The Admiralty has been positioning, maneuvering, and cajoling the GLF into a decisive battle. It’s been ten solyars since this Secession started, and the Triumvirate hopes to end it soon. We think we’ll be able to put both fleets at risk.”
“I hope to get to play my part.”
Radachi’s eyes met Kenga’s. “You’ll have the most important role of all. Your very life will depend on the mission the Vice Admiral has proposed for you. It sounds dramatic, but we need you to carry a message.”
“I’m going to be a courier?” In the prewar days, it wasn’t uncommon for Kenga to carry messages and personnel to troubled new systems, slipping past planetary defense fleets. Those missions had their compensations, but she wasn’t interested.
“Of a sort,” Zeng said. “The Triumvirate knows there’s something terrible coming. What it is shakes the very foundation of the subspace fleet and, if the data is to be believed, could affect the entirety of humanity—fleets, worlds, colonies, all of it.”
“And they don’t plan to share this information… why?” Kenga ventured.
“They don’t see it as a threat. The High Admiralty does. Admiral Radachi agrees, but we cannot openly disregard the Triumvirate. They think this grand, master plan will solve all of their problems of a divided empire.”
“Isn’t this plan also Mercer’s plan?” Kenga asked.
“It is. Actually, the plan works for us.” Radachi finished her drink. “The message you will carry is for the GLF Chief of Space Operations, for the whole of the GLF itself. We need to send you on a mission that looks like an ordinary subspace mission.”
Kenga sipped her brandy. “You don’t think I can just thrust into GLF space and surrender?”
Radachi put her glass down. “It won’t be that easy. The Triumvirate suspects the High Admiralty despite Fleet Admiral Mercer’s complete authority and confidence.”
“You think the proconsul will be a problem? It’s standard operating procedure to have one on board since the Secession began.”
“Yes, we expect the proconsul to subvert your true mission, whether they know it or not. We’ve been silent about these plans, Karine. Here, now, is the first time the mission has been discussed outside of myself, the Vice Admiral and Fleet Admiral Mercer himself. When Mercer showed me the data and asked for a plan to get this information to the GLF, I consulted Kamal. He recommended you, based on more than just the timing of Kuro’s return from another successful patrol. I’m putting you in an impossible position, Karine,” Radachi said. “There will be no accolades for what we’re asking you to do. It amounts to treason.” She shivered. “And I cannot ask someone to do this without understanding the risks and knowing what the message entails. If you say yes, Kamal will have you report to the medical wing for treatment. If you say no, we have no other options. Well, none that won’t get the High Admiralty spaced.”
“You could ask someone else.” Kenga wanted them to pass over her. Her fingers tightened around her glass. Midgard-Sekai receded like a point of light down a tunnel.
“Each person who knows about this opens everyone up to scrutiny and increases the risk. No one outside of Subspace knows, except Mercer, and I trust fewer in the Subspace Fleet with something this important.”
Kenga smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You asked if my crew was loyal and trustworthy, sir,” she said to the vice admiral. “You didn’t ask about my loyalty.”
“I would be remiss in my duty if I didn’t know you, Karine.” Zeng believed himself an excellent judge of character, and the captains of his subspace squadron were a testament to that belief.
“If I go for this treatment… I’m carrying the message in my DNA. That’s destructive.”
Zeng nodded. “You’ll need a competent flight surgeon to keep you alive during transit.”
“I have one selfish request.”
Radachi pulled
a terminal from her suit. “Of course.”
“I can trust my crew, but does the flight surgeon need to be someone who will complete my mission if I fail? If that’s true, I’d like Dr. Lynn Lin.”
“I can arrange that. What ship is she on?” the vice admiral asked.
“She’s on Midgard-Sekai, but not on the active roster. She retired at the onset of the Secession.”
“That could be problematic.”
Kenga shrugged. “I can help with the request. She’ll return to service for me, sir. And, I think we can manage a cover story. Some of my crew know Dr. Lin from prewar days.”
“You don’t mind if I vet her first,” the vice admiral said. “Discretely, of course.”
“Of course, sir.”
Radachi handed Kenga the terminal. “Before you agree, this is a one-time cypher terminal with the necessary information. I want to know that after you’ve understood the threat, you’ll still risk yourself.”
As she took it, Kenga realized the depth of their planning. It had taken the reassignment of Stig Edmonds to the Hidden Knife for the Vice Admiral to be in attendance. To plan this meeting to coincide with Kuro’s next set of patrol orders. To count on Kenga refusing to take leave, as she always had. If Kenga said no, nothing would come of this, though she knew there would be subtle repercussions. Kenga wouldn’t go to the Hegemony with what she knew; spacers didn’t fully trust the aristocracy with the fleet. While doing so would uncover the conspiracy, it would end her career. She was at the end, either way. An impossible choice indeed.
