“And you tell your Dominants to go fuck themselves!” the captain yelled, his gloved hands gripping his seat armrests.
The otter alien’s brown whiskers flared out into a halo. “Your death will be swift.”
“Com, kill this comlink,” the captain said firmly.
The image of the otter alien vanished, replaced by a true space image.
“Neutrino comlink connection killed,” Wetstone said. “Sir, what about the comsat?”
“Detonate it.”
A small yellow spark glowed in the true space image on the bulkhead vidscreen.
“Detonated,” the Brit said.
“Five minutes to intercept,” Chang murmured. “Magnetosphere edge is still seven minutes distant.”
“All Ship! Go to General Quarters! Seal your helmets!” Skorzeny said loudly.
The overhead lights went to blinking red. Three loud horn hoots sounded. My seat straps tightened. I pulled my clear globular helmet over my head and down until it locked into the vacsuit’s neckring. Then I looked up and aside at the rainbow shimmer of the AM tubes. The fields were showing perfect shimmer. Liters of antimatter were flowing down to join the yellow-orange plasmas of our three thrusters. My ship was moving as fast as it could. A new vibration told me the Astro woman had begun sideways jinking to make harder any targeting of the ship by lightspeed weapons. No doubt the other two ships were doing the same. A glance at the nearby bulkhead vidscreen showed the otter alien’s image had vanished, leaving the overhead Bridge view and the faces of captains Jacobsen and Nutsov. They looked as worried as I felt. Were we all going to die before we could escape into Alcubierre space-time?
“Weapons, launch Hunter-Seeker mines,” captain Skorzeny said. “Eject six x-ray thermonuke missiles. Target them at the three closest alien ships. Detonate their warheads once they are in range of the targets.”
“Launching mines and missiles,” Yamamoto said quickly. “Mines are spreading to all sides. Missiles are moving at planetary escape velocity. Estimate they will arrive within target range in four minutes. Sir.”
“Tactical, advise me on range to enemy ships.”
“Sir, closest enemy ships are at ten million kilometers out and closing,” Chang said, her voice shaky. “Three minutes thirty seconds to intercept point.”
I wished I worked at the stern proton and CO2 lasers. While their range was just 10,000 klicks, still, the enemy would not see the coherent green and red beams until they hit their ships. Or did the enemy have a stealth spysat now transmitting vidimages over a neutrino comlink? And what kind of weapons did this Empire enemy have? Surely they at least had our kind of lasers. Did they bother with slow-moving mines and missiles? Did they have a plasma beam? I recalled a Weapons course at Great Lakes where it was reported the CERN scientists were working on a way to create a coherent plasma beam. Which was hard since pure plasma would dissolve any solid focusing lens. At the time I assumed the science geeks would use magnetic field focusing, if they could even generate such a beam. Now, theory was irrelevant. We were about to discover what this Empire of Eternity used to dominate thousands of space-going species.
“Reverse course!” growled Nutsov from the Pyotr Velikiy. “Leslie, Neil, we will do our best to delay these attackers! Neil, take care of Nadya.”
Shock filled me. The Russian ship captain had flipped his fat spearhead of a ship to face rearward, toward the three closest Empire ships. His ship resumed thrusting at eleven psol, using antimatter from his tail particle accelerator coil to supplement the basic fusion pulse thrust. While his inward momentum continued, his ship’s three thrusters were slowing it. Eventually the Kirov-class battlecruiser would achieve null velocity in space. Before that happened, the attacking ships would reach its position. The meaning of Nutsov’s final words hit me, displacing mental images of spaceships rushing toward us. Nadya had to be the XO, Nadya Kumisov. Were they a couple? Had to be, otherwise Nutsov would not have spoken.
“Captain Nutsov, your defense of your comrade ships will be shared with all of EarthGov,” Skorzeny said, his voice somber. “Nadya is here. She understands. She sends her love.” The captain paused. “Gregorii, there is no need to repeat the battle of Leningrad here. We can all escape.”
The short, stocky man laughed sharply. “This will not be Leningrad. It will be Kursk. My crew and I are ready to kill these animals!”
“Three minutes to interception. Five minutes to magnetosphere,” murmured Chang. “Nutsov’s range to enemy ships is three million kilometers and closing fast.”
The green dot of Nutsov’s ship drew away from the green dots of the Star Glory and the HMS Dauntless. It grew closer to the three red dots that were directly behind us.
“Nutsov range is one million kilometers. Enemy ship speed is still 15 psol,” Chang said. “Intercept to us is two minutes forty-seven seconds. Four minutes fifty-one seconds to magnetosphere.”
“Launch our Tsar Bomba,” Nutsov said to someone on his bridge.
A fourth green dot appeared next to Nutsov’s ship dot. Slowly, ever so slowly, it drew away from Nutsov’s green dot.
“Heidi, filter all incoming space imagery,” Skorzeny said bluntly. “And is your firewall still resisting their probes?”
“Filtering,” the AI said, her tone now feminine. “My firewall is holding. I assigned four million worm-bots to fight the signal intrusion attempts. Which now number one million fourteen thousand and twelve. Neutrino comlink receivers are isolated. The Secure Block is intact.”
The vidscreen image of the captain showed him nodding. “Good. Astro, get one of your people on Astrogation Deck to access the Secure Block. Obtain the coordinates for Kepler 22.” He looked up. “Leslie, you should do the same. That is where I plan to head. But do not load the coordinates until we are at the magnetosphere edge. This bastard is listening to everything we say over this comlink.”
“Will do, Neil,” the red-headed British captain said, turning to speak to his Astro person.
Louise Ibarra tapped her control panel touchscreen. “Captain, I’ve got an Astro yeoman pulling those numbers. He will bring them here very soon.”
“No need for the footrace,” Skorzeny said. “Have him tell Heidi the numbers when he hears my order. The AI can set the ship orientation.”
“Yes sir.”
A brilliant yellow-orange sun filled the true space image that was the middle of the bulkhead vidscreen. Plasma streamers flickered and spread outward. What was this? The red dots of the Empire ships were the same number as earlier. With three drawing closer.
“Sir,” called Chang. “The Tsar Bomba just detonated with 56 megatons of energy. The rad field from it is now hitting the three Empire ships.”
I looked away to the system graphic image over by the Chief. It still showed three green dots surrounded and being pursued by twenty-seven red dots.
“No effect,” Chang said. “Nutsov range is one hundred thousand kilometers. Enemy ship speed is still 15 psol. Intercept to us is two minutes twenty-seven seconds. Four minutes thirty-one seconds to magnetosphere.”
Red, green and orange beams now streaked through the true space image of the nearby vidscreen. Where they ended there flared tiny yellow stars.
“Empire ships are firing lasers!” yelled Chang. “They are proton, CO2 and . . . and plasma beams. Sir, the beams are hitting the Hunter-Seeker mines launched earlier by Captain Nutsov. Also hit are the missiles he fired. The missiles had not yet launched their x-ray thermonuke warheads.”
My gut churned. The Empire weapons range was ten times that of any Earth ship. While I had never trained on ship weapons, I knew the basics. Every Earth starship possessed proton and CO2 lasers at the stern and bow, port and starboard-launching railguns and missiles that ejected from stern silos. That was it. Which meant this alien enemy could stand off at a hundred thousand klicks and melt down every weapons housing on any Earth ship, while staying far beyond the range of our weapons. Or the intense radiation front of the Tsar Bomba gia
nt thermonuke, let alone the shorter range of our x-ray thermonuke warheads.
An electro-optical scope image of the Russian ship now appeared in place of the true space image. The 340 meter length of the fat spearhead was a powerful combat craft. Besides the lasers, missiles and railgun launchers that were common to all three ships, the Pyotr Velikiy possessed twelve decks manned by 381 crew, two dozen missiles, short-range pellet dispensers to kill any incoming Smart Rocks, active and passive sensor arrays on the bow, stern and keel, four dozen lifepods that would allow the entire crew to obey an Abandon Ship order, plus four space-to-land shuttles that could land on any planet we encountered. In size and shape it resembled one of the old Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carriers, now long-retired and replaced by the George W. Bush-class carriers, which held 100 fighter and surveillance craft. While neither the Star Glory, the Dauntless nor the Velikiy held fighter craft or armed shuttles, still, they were a third of a kilometer long and were the peak of human spacecraft ingenuity. Now, this product of the Novosibirsk orbital shipyard was racing toward three enemy ships, its aim to delay them so its two sister ships could escape.
Red, green and purple beams hit the bow of the Velikiy. They struck the emission ports for its CO2 and proton lasers, then the topdeck railgun launchers. Next hit were the stern lasers and missile silos. Large areas of the ship showed blackening. Several hull spots were warped or penetrated, with white air and silvery water globules spurting out. Now all three Empire ships concentrated their beams on the Russian ship. As best I could tell from the true space image and from following the beams back to their source, each enemy ship was firing four CO2 lasers, four proton lasers and two plasma beamers. And that was from just the bow of each Empire ship. Which the scope now revealed to be dumbbell-shaped ships composed of a bow globe connected by a thick middle tube to a stern globe. The metal color was red-brown. Black and white streaks ran across the ship hull, similar to the pattern of Smooth Fur. Were all three Empire ships captained by otter-like aliens? Black smoke showed in the image of Nutsov and his bridge.
“Neil, we’ve got nothing left to fight with. Twenty-three of my crew are dead from hull punctures.” Nutsov tapped his right armrest. “Captain Smooth Fur, the Russian battlecruiser Pyotr Velikiy surrenders to the Empire of Eternity. Will you allow my crew to live?”
The true space image of the Velikiy and the enemy beams that still struck different parts of the ship disappeared. The black-furred face of the otter alien appeared. It gestured aside to one of its crew.
“Earth ship Velikiy, cease your thrusting. An Empire craft will come alongside you. Do not resist our boarders if you wish to preserve the lives of your crewbeings. And you will address me as Manager Smooth Fur!”
“Understood, Manager Smooth Fur,” Nutsov said. “Ship thrusters shutting off. Our mid-body hangar will open. It can accept your shuttle. Or whatever your ship sends over.”
I looked to Chief O’Connor, not able to believe in the quick surrender of the swarthy-skinned Russian. He caught my look. As he also caught similar worried looks from Gambuchino and her Spacers. He shook a finger at us.
“Be silent! Let the captain handle this.”
I turned back, checked the antimatter flow rates on my control panel, then looked back to the bulkhead vidscreen. As did Gambuchino, Gus and the other two Spacers. The image of Smooth Fur was replaced by a true space scope image of the Velikiy. Blackened spots covered a third of its hull. Five areas had punch throughs with gas and water escaping. It looked badly damaged.
“Captain,” Chang said. “Nutsov range is two thousand kilometers to nearest Empire ship, which is slowing to match its vector.” She tapped her touchscreen. “Remaining two enemy ships are still approaching us at 15 psol. Intercept to us is two minutes four seconds. Four minutes five seconds to magnetosphere.”
The captain looked tired. And sad. And thoughtful. Captain Jacobsen of the Dauntless looked the same. Neither said a word about the surrender of Nutsov.
The true space image of the Velikiy now expanded until the ship was a quarter of its size in the first image. To the right there approached a dumbbell ship, moving without exhaust thrust. I wondered at that. What did the alien ship use to move its craft through space without use of fusion pulse thrusters or chemical maneuvering jets?
“Tactical, advise me on range to enemy ships.”
“Sir, closest enemy ships are at three million kilometers out and closing,” Chang said, her voice shaky. “Two minutes to intercept point.”
In the vidscreen, the Empire ship drew up alongside the Velikiy. It was the same length and width as the Russian ship, best as I could tell. It stopped its approach.
“Captain,” called someone on Nutsov’s bridge. “Empire ship is within three kilometers of us. Engineering is opening the midbody hangar.”
“Understood,” Nutsov said, his voice gravelly. “All crew, carry out my instructions.”
The image of the silvery Russian ship did not move. Nor did the image of the red-brown Empire ship.
A yellow-orange star flared in the middle of the Empire ship.
“Eat my antimatter!” yelled Nutsov. “Ship AI Nadya, comply with my final order.”
The Empire ship disappeared in a spreading plasma glow as somehow, someway, Nutsov’s particle accelerator coil ejected streams of negative neutrons at the enemy ship. Those streams of antimatter ended in a yellow star that filled the space where the alien ship had once floated in the cold void of space.
“Complying.”
A new yellow-orange glow filled the spot where the Velikiy had just floated, making it two small stars that brightened a part of the void that lay at the far edge of the Kepler 37 star system. This was the place where the Velikiy, the Dauntless and the Star Glory had come in the hope of finding habitable planets for humans. Instead, we had found deadly aliens who ruled the galaxy. Nutsov had killed one such alien ship, at the cost of himself, his crew and his ship.
Death in space is always violent. And always silent.
“Goodbye, Gregorii,” the captain said softly. “Tactical, how close are we to the edge of the magnetosphere?”
“Sir, we are still three minutes, twenty-five seconds away from the magnetosphere,” Change said, sounding shocked by the sacrifice of Nutsov and his people. “Two enemy ships are at one million kilometers out and closing,” Chang said, her voice shaky. “One minute forty seconds to intercept point.”
I swallowed hard. Nutsov’s sacrifice had not slowed the approach of the other two Empire ships.
“Neil, we are a bit closer,” called Jacobsen of the Dauntless. “We are launching x-ray thermonukes. We will do what we can.”
Our captain waved to the other captain. “I’m sure you and your crew will do your best, Leslie. Let us all fight!”
The bulkhead true space image now showed the silver spearhead of the Dauntless. It had flipped over so its bow was facing the two incoming Empire ships. It was not reducing speed, unlike Nutsov. But clearly it was preparing to fire lasers and to jink sideways. Tiny red flares said it was doing just that as maneuvering thrusters moved it further away from the Star Glory. Its actions made me wonder at the intent of its captain. That wonderment brought back the visual image of Captain Gregorii Nutsov and how he had suckered in the Empire ship, only for it to die in a cloud of antimatter. After which Nutsov blew up his own ship. My mind wrapped around the actions of Nutsov, then spun out a solution to our deadly dilemma.
I looked to my boss. “Chief O’Connor, I have an idea for attacking the Empire ships,” I said over my vacsuit comlink. “Will you come here?”
The descendant of Scottish immigrants looked my way, frowned, then released his accel straps. He stood and walked over. Gambuchino and her Spacers watched us.
“What’s your idea?”
I gestured at the shimmering tubes that surrounded me. Then I held up two gloved fists. “My left fist is the Star Glory. My right fist is the two Empire ships. See what happens if we shut off the thrusters?�
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Surprise filled his face. Then he nodded. “I do. But we can’t tell the Dauntless to do the same, can we?”
“Nope. The aliens will understand anything we send over the neutrino comlink.”
“Pity. But combat is like that.”
The Chief walked fast back to his thruster control station. He sat back down, sat back as the automatic accel straps criss-crossed his chest, then he tapped his armrest control patch.
“Captain, I am shutting off all three thrusters,” he said over his link to the Bridge. “Trust me. This is the only way we will survive!”
On the bulkhead vidscreen the captain frowned. “We lose any ability to dodge incoming beams. Engineering, are you sure of this?”
“I am.” The Chief tapped his control panel. “All three thrusters are shutting down. DT pellet feed is stopped. Sir, we will escape!”
Captain Skorzeny nodded. “Understood. All Ship, prepare for combat. Enemy ships are approaching.”
I looked quickly to the system graphic vidscreen near the Chief. It showed the two closest Empire ships closing in on us and the Dauntless, with the Brit ship being slightly closer to the enemy. Maybe forty thousand klicks closer. The Victor Unity formation had gone dead with the death of the Velikiy. Now, it was every ship for herself. Which was why I had not spoken aloud my idea to the Chief. Who knew if these aliens could tap into the within-ship coms?
Red, green and orange beams shot from the two Empire ships and ended in space not far from the Dauntless. Bright red sparks showed at the end of each beam.
“They’re taking out our mines and missiles,” Jacobsen said, sounding strong and determined. “Bow lasers, fire on them. Don’t give a damn what the range is. Fire on them!”
A pair of green and red laser beams shot out from the Dauntless, one beam aiming for the starboard enemy ship while the other beam aimed at the portside ship. The beams flickered out far from contact.
“Range of enemy ships to Dauntless is 22,000 klicks,” Chang said. “Intercept to us is forty seconds. Magnetosphere edge is one minute twenty seconds out.”
Star Glory (Empire Series Book 1) Page 3
