“I hope your plan works, Sir,” she said.
“You’re not the only one,” I replied fervently.
“Even if it works perfectly, we’re still not going to be all the way out of the water and home free though,” she observed.
“I’m just getting started,” I said confidently. The truth was that I was more akin to a gambler with a junk hand who had just gone all in.
If this was going to work, someone on the other side would need to flinch.
Chapter Fifty-nine: Shifting Fortunes
“Twistier than a sidewinder and more difficult to track down than a rogue planet,” High Admiral Janeski said with the barest hint of admiration.
“The enemy’s not here, Sir,” reported Fleet Sensors.
“We’re receiving a message from the shadow force. It appears the strike fighters were attacked by gunboats, but we have a new course and heading but the Squadron Commander reports they only think they drove our people off. We have fighters shadowing them at long range…well, at long range for this jammer soup we’re in,” reported Communications.
“You can run but you can’t hide forever,” Janeski muttered.
“We’ll bring him to bay, Admiral,” Goddard said confidently, “between the task force ships and the fighters, he can’t escape.”
Janeski shook his head in irritation. “What’s the status of the jammer field?” he turned and demanded.
“The field strength is down to 80%,” the Fleet Science Officer said confidently.
The High Admiral pursed his lips. The jammer field wasn’t coming down as fast as he’d like. “Launch another thirty squadrons of fighters for a search and destroy mission. I want those jammers destroyed,” he ordered.
“It will take them time, and with this we’ll have launched two thirds of our fighter strength,” warned the commander of the Invictus Rising’s fighters.
“Tell them to seek out the highest points of density and interference. With this older tech, the shorter their sensor range the closer they are to the buoys,” said the Admiral.
“Right away, Sir,” said the Commander.
Several minutes passed before their sensors found something. “Sir! I have what look to be the remains of a recent battle on my screen,” reported Sensors.
“Throw it up,” Janeski ordered.
“There appear to be a lot of heavily-damaged Destroyers out there,” remarked Goddard with a hint of surprise.
“I see the remains of our Destroyers, yet no sign of the enemy,” the High Admiral observed.
“We’re receiving a hail. It’s from one of our Destroyers, the Fair Game, Sir,” reported Fleet Comm. Officer. “The Captain of the Fair Game reports that they were a part of Task Force 3 that chased the locals into the fleet. There was a brief clash here but because Task Force 3 was going the wrong direction they circled around to give chase after the battle. Neither the Fair Game nor Captain Smith have any additional information other than the last known course and speed of the enemy and task force 3.”
“Well that explains this,” the High Admiral said clinically, “detach two squadrons of Destroyers to guard the battle site and initiate rescue and repair operations.”
“Yes, sir,” Goddard said detaching two of the fleet’s squadrons per the Admiral’s command.
“Do you want to increase our speed, sir?” asked the Helmsman.
Janeski hesitated and then gritted his teeth. “A good question, Helm…” he said after a moment, “continue on the new heading at our current speed. There’s no point in rushing around from here to there until we get new information from our fighter pickets.”
“Aye aye, Sir,” replied the Helmsman.
“Let’s just hope the Task Force is having better luck,” said Goddard.
“Yes,” agreed Janeski with fractionally narrowed eyes, “let’s.”
Chapter Sixty: A Stern Chase
“Where the flaming atoms did they go?” demanded the Front Admiral. “A whole fleet just doesn’t disappear!”
“They made a radical course change near an area of particular high density emissions and we lost them. We guessed wrong, Sir,” Captain Prentice Major said heavily.
“We lost them. We lost them?!” Tolwin thundered. “This task force does not guess, Captain; we find and defeat our enemies. We do not stumble around in the dark like lost little school children. What do you think the High Admiral will say when he reads the epic saga I’m going to write after the end of this battle, for Man’s sake?!”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” the Captain said blank-faced. “I take full responsibility for our failure to pin down the enemy thus far.”
The Front Admiral’s mouth made a straight line. “You are not the one responsible for this Task Force, Captain—I am. Stop trying to appease me and find that Fleet!”
“Yes, Admiral,” said the Captain, hurrying away to do just that with renewed purpose.
Mulishly, the Front Admiral glared at the screen. The enemy had hit his Destroyers, deliberately targeting them with his Battleships while hiding their own Destroyers within their formation and soaking up much of his own damage to their shields.
As soon as he got the chance, he intended to return the favor. This campaign had started out fairly predictably but this new enemy, after a few initial blunders, was proving to be more difficult than usual. He was more slippery than a salamander, and twice as shameless.
But even that wouldn’t save him once Tolwin had him back within his sights.
“Change course and heading to these coordinates,” he commanded, ordering a radical course change. He was going to find them yet, and when he did…
He smiled grimly at the thoughts which followed.
Chapter Sixty-one: A Consultation on the Sly
The steady clomp-stomp-thump of an engineer on the march sounded throughout the lonely, isolated section of the Super Battleship. The area was completely segregated from the rest of the ship, except for access through a single external shuttle docking port that seemed to lead to another section of the still-growing ship. The area was only accessible through a false bulkhead equipped with the tightest mechanical security an old engineer could devise. It was, as it had been in its previous incarnation, a strictly non-electronic setup.
“Gonna have to do something about life support in here at some point,” Spalding muttered from within the head bag attached to his skin suit. Tasting the gas mixture and finding it slightly off, he adjusted the portable oxygen canister on his belt. It was cumbersome, but it got the job done without forcing him to strip down and put on something more restrictive.
Looking around, he started to plan out what he was going to need and then he shook his head sourly. The area was sealed but it wasn’t hooked into a functioning life support system, so nothing was getting recycled. For now, that was going to have to do. He had too many things on his plate to worry about non-critical incidentals like this—especially when he was practically the only one who could do the job due to security concerns.
As of now fixing this deck up was a project that would have to stay on indefinite hold. He simply had too many things to do and not enough hands to go around and do it. There were only twenty four hours of work that could be done in a day, which was why he was here. He needed a shortcut, and he had a notion of just where he could find it.
Reaching the end of the lighted section, he came to a blast door.
He waved his hand over the standard door activator, causing a hidden panel just under it to flip open. Fingers flickering in the poor light, he entered the code and then leaned forward for retinal identification.
The door chimed and he took a step forward. The moment he did so, a series of three hidden weapons placements—a plasma launcher, a heavy blaster, and an auto-cannon—each flipped down to target him.
“My voice is my password; verify me,” he called out clearly.
“Proceed, Commander,” instructed a clearly synthesized voice.
“That’s ‘Chief Engineer’ to t
he likes of you!” Spalding said without taking one single step and, with a click, the door started to slide open.
Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, as he finally entered the Locker.
Taking a step inside, he drew a deep breath of that mixture of stale, metallic, and lubricant-filled air. Plasma torch in one hand and hand light torch in the other he took a slow scan of the area. And other than everything being all mixed up and scattered compared to where it used to be—and without its signature anti-fire foam retardant—the old engineer couldn’t help feeling a deep sense of nostalgia.
“Every bolt…and every weld,” he muttered, reaching over to pat a rugged structural support beam, feeling a sense of connection to the long series of engineers who came before him. The Fraternal Order may be a little light at the moment but, just like the Clover, one day soon it would rise again even better and more robust than ever. “The younger generation; it’s high time they got up off their duffs and started pulling their weight,” he complained to no one in particular as he approached the faint green lighting. Other than the light in his hand, it was the only thing which broke the darkness which now surrounded him.
Stopping momentarily outside the door leading into the faraday cage that contained the answer to so very many questions no one wanted answered the old engineer squared his shoulders and entered.
Moving into the center of a room filled with a pair of four and five foot tall crystals, he stared up at a presently blank, old-style screen hanging down from the ceiling.
“I come to ask a favor,” the old Engineer said, his jaw bunching, “see, there’s no way I can fix this ship up in time. Not the main gun, the antimatter generators, the shields and the hyper drive. I’m going to need some help.”
For a long beat, nothing happened. Then a single line appeared as a dot on the side and moved across from one side of the screen to the other to form a word:
“I’ve recently got my hands on an old set of jump engines, courtesy of an off-the-books operation in 24…Elder tech jump engines,” Spalding said, nervously running a hand through his hair to a part of his cybernetic skull, “and here’s a data file on the specs.” Reaching beneath his dignified and eternally classy hairdo, he plugged an external data storage device into the side of the screen, “I’ve got the rig hooked to power and the tests seem to suggest she’ll fire up when the time comes, but I need a way to activate it and input coordinates. I should be able to provide the power through the antimatter generators and, as for trillium, with the mine in Tracto I don’t think it really matters how much she pulls per jump.”
For a period lasting several silent minutes, the single line continued to move across the screen without forming so much as a blip.
“The need for this ship is very great. Without it, I don’t think—” Spalding began, but at last the data storage device chimed and the horizontal line formed three words:
Then the line withdrew from the sides of the old screen until only a single circular ball appeared in its place, and shortly thereafter the monitor’s power was cut.
“So that’s how it is?” Spalding growled, clenching the storage device in his hand. He shoved the device in his pocket and turned with a spring in his step to leave the Locker.
****************************************************
In a dark corner of the Locker, the dim lights of a man-sized tank suddenly flashed to life as it brought its occupant out of hibernation.
The lid cracked open with a hiss, quickly equalizing the atmospheric pressure between the tank and the rest of the compartment that made up the new Locker. For several seconds, a single radio frequency spiked as a large amount of compressed data was transmitted.
Forced the rest of the way open from the inside, a human hand was thrust upward, its fingers curled as if trying to grip something even as the lid of the healing tank swung fully open.
Slowly, the figure pulled itself over the side of the tank with muscles that appeared weak and desiccated, but were in all actuality being used for the very first time. The figure flopped to the floor before laboriously levering back into an upright position.
As if each movement gave the newly-decanted person increasingly greater control over their own body, what started out as almost jerky difficult to control movements became smoother movements after just a minute or so of twitchy, jerky practice.
With increasingly steady movements, the figure staggered to the location of a box of all-purpose skin suits. Although it was currently buried under a pile of machine parts, a box of six suits was indeed located, pulled out, and opened. Fingers fumbling, the self-check feature of each suit was activated one by one. Two of the suits were down-checked with red or yellow warnings before the third turned green.
With a rakish smile illuminated only by the faint, green, glowing objects at the center of the compartment, the figure began to put on the third suit. The first suit to green-lit turned out to be female patterned and, while all skin suits had stretch and conformity properties, the old style helmet that came with this suit was rather snug.
But even though it was snug around the neck, and the face glass was a little too close, the figure didn’t care. After all, everyone in his family had markedly flat noses.
After affixing the suit to an oxygen tank and collecting a hand scanner, a personal mobility grav-board was also located. Each item had been in completely separate parts of the nearly-dark Locker, but the newly-born man had what could have been described as an ‘instinctive’ knowledge of where to find them.
Thinking that enough time had passed, he moved to an area near the giant Core crystals and retrieved a data slate. Now armed with everything he needed—except for a proper weapon—he proceeded toward the exit.
After a simple hack and crack, he was out and into the empty corridor.
He’d slipped through the door, and now all he needed was to find a window and get out of here.
He had a mission to perform—a mission from God.
But as soon as that mission was completed, he could get back to doing what he did best—and when he did the Spineward Sectors would tremble at his feet.
Chapter Sixty-two: Breaking Out
On our way through the jammer field, we stumbled upon several swirling battles and settled them in our favor. But more often we encountered drifting wrecks of Grand Fleet warships.
We also picked up a tail of Imperial fighter craft along with the several warships we rescued. Or, perhaps I should say more properly, Reclamation Fleet fighters.
“We are nearing the edge of the jammer zone,” reported Lieutenant Hart tightly.
“I am well aware of that, Lieutenant, but thanks for the reminder,” I said calmly.
“Yes, Sir,” he said sounding faintly dissatisfied.
“Slow us down, Mr. DuPont, and signal the rest of the fleet,” I said, looking at the helmsman and then Comm. Officer in turn.
“Slowing to one fourth full military power,” reported DuPont.
“Admiral, we can’t linger here too long…unless your aim is another battle,” said Captain Hammer.
“Everything is well in hand,” I said.
Hammer pursed her lips but settled back down.
“I have another pair of enemy fighters on screen,” reported Hart.
I shook my head; that brought the running total of fighters lingering in the area up to twelve. I started drumming my fingers along the armrest of my Throne.
“Begin to divide the fleet per the operational plan and distribute the remaining jammer buoys,” I said after receiving no further sign of Silverback and his pair of battered Battleships.
“Message transmitted, Sir,” said Lieutenant Steiner.
“Good,” I said shortly. We had been unreasonably lucky so far only encountering one major battle inside the jammer field, but that luck wouldn’t last.
“Admiral?” Hammer urged as several Reclamation cruisers appeared and then quickly tur
ned around as soon as they saw the Grand Fleet.
“Contact! It’s Admiral Silverback, Sir!” reported the Sensor Officer.
I silently breathed a sigh of relief. To my surprise it wasn’t only the two Battleships, but also a handful of other warships—including a pair of Cruisers—accompanying them. But such additions weren’t what I was concerned about. For my plan to work, I needed those Battleships.
“Inform the Admiral I need him to bring his ships back into formation with the rest of our Battleships,” I commanded, planning to take a page out of the book of a certain Reclamationist Cruiser squadron—hopefully to better effect.
“Contact the Hart’s Heart and have her prepare to take the fine Admiral’s Battleship under tow. As soon as they have done so, let’s get going. I’m starting to get an itch in the back of my neck,” I said as my stomach began to flutter with a maelstrom of butterflies.
“Hart’s Heart acknowledges the order and is moving to take the Aegis Battleship under tow,” said Comm.
Moments after Hart’s Heart moved out to take Admiral Silverback’s flagship under tow, one of Dark Matter’s Sub-Formation 3 Battleships fell back to take her damaged sister ship under tow.
“Deploy the last buoy. Attach the bucking cable and accelerate to full speed. Let’s get out of here,” I ordered the very moment the last Aegis Battleship was under tow.
“Buoy deployed and recaptured,” reported Adrienne Blythe, and I nodded by way of acknowledgment.
“I’d just like to state again, for the record, that these buoys are designed to be used from a fixed stationary location. We are going to lose a great deal of functionality and coverage using them in this manner,” Lieutenant Hart said stiffly.
I blinked. We were under threat of total annihilation, and his greatest worry was going on the record stating that the only plan I had to keep us from being destroyed might not work?
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