by Jay Allan
“Black Helms are to land for refueling and refit. Gray Squadron is to support the Gold Shields. I want every millimeter of space from here to the transwarp link scouted.” The Black Helms were her best pilots, but she’d had them equipped for shipping strikes, overruling launch control’s plan to send the Grays out as bombers. She couldn’t take any chances on allowing an enemy ship to escape and warn whatever was waiting in Varus that two Confederation battleships and their escorts were on the way. Whatever chance they had to pull off this almost-insane operation, she suspected they had none at all if they lost the element of surprise.
“Yes, Captain.”
She felt a twinge of guilt at her thoughts, at the unjustified lack of confidence she felt in the Grays. She knew Intrepid’s three native squadrons and their personnel well, but Gray Squadron was a new and oversized formation assembled from bits and pieces of other ships’ fighter wings. They were good pilots, she knew, and some, she suspected, were excellent. But they weren’t used to flying together, and regardless of the skill of the personnel, that made a difference. She’d almost held them back entirely, but she wanted to keep one of her own squadrons in reserve, so she’d held the Longswords on alert in the launch bay. Just in case.
She knew she was lucky to have the Grays, and that the pilots themselves were fortunate to be part of Intrepid’s extended fighter wing. Their alternative had been death in the Battle of Arcturon, either by enemy fire, or by the loss of life support.
“Scouting reports all negative, Captain. It doesn’t appear that either frigate was able to dispatch a drone.”
“Continue the search, Commander. We need to be sure.” She didn’t think the enemy had gotten off a warning either, but she was well aware that one small drone, out there somewhere heading toward the Varus transit point, could be the difference between the success of the mission and total disaster.
“Yes, Captain.”
“And get me Captain Barron.”
“On your comm.”
“Captain, we’ve had no further contacts. I’ve got almost fifty drones deployed, plus two squadrons of fighters. I’m not saying there couldn’t be something hiding out there, but we’d detect anything that tried to communicate or power up for a move.” She knew she wasn’t reporting anything to Barron he couldn’t have surmised from his own scans and the earlier tactical reports she’d sent in. Intrepid had transited into the Phillos system first, and she had handled the enemy pickets immediately, launching fighters before Dauntless had even come through the transwarp link.
“That’s good news, Captain. My compliments to you and your people for handling those Union frigates so expeditiously.”
She was well aware that Barron had been uncomfortable exerting command his slight but legitimate authority over her and her vessel, and she thought well of him for that. But, truthfully, she was relieved to be part of a command structure again…any part but the top. Tyler Barron had led his ship in solo action before, indeed, his one on one fight with the Alliance flagship was fast becoming legend in the fleet, even without official recognition that it had ever happened. Eaton had only commanded her vessel in action as part of a fleet and, notwithstanding Barron’s apparent concern she might harbor resentments about it, she was actually grateful to have him in command. She’d had a moment of doubt initially, a concern that the scion of the greatest naval family would not live up to expectations. But she was well past that now. She’d taken her measure of the man and found him to be utterly deserving of her respect and loyalty.
“Thank you, sir.” Her eyes darted to the display, checking on the flow of reports from her fighters and drones. Still nothing. “What are your orders, Captain?”
“Let’s press on, Captain. We were fortunate the enemy appears to have had no greater force in this system. I see nothing to be gained by pressing our luck, by delaying here.”
“I agree, sir.” She paused. “Captain, do you want to send one of the escorts through the transwarp link to scout before we go through?”
There were a few seconds of silence. Finally, Barron said, “I don’t think so, Captain. I wish I knew what was waiting for us in Varus, but I don’t think whatever quick scans one of the cruisers could manage would be worth risking our surprise. Dauntless and Intrepid will go through, as closely spaced as possible. If there’s something there that’s going to hit us, I want as much force in place as we can get.”
“I agree, sir.” She wasn’t sure if she agreed or not. It seemed more like a coin toss to her, but she figured unity was more important.
“I want to be ready for action the instant we transit, Captain. Dauntless and Intrepid will both be at battlestations and ready for action when we enter the link.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Leave your fighters out to scan the system as long as possible, but I want you to recall them in time to have them refit and ready when we transit. I want every fighter ready to launch the instant we emerge in the Varus system.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“Very well. We should be at the transit point in just over six hours. Use the time well, Captain. Run diagnostics on all weapons systems and energy transfer points. And your reactors. Both our ships have been through a lot already, and if there’s a loose connection or a compromised conduit somewhere, I want it found and fixed before we transit.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.”
“I know you will. Barron out.”
Eaton tapped the comm control, shutting down the channel. Then she looked out across Intrepid’s bridge. Her officers were at their stations, focused on their duties with no sign of fear, at least none any of them let show. She knew they had a great test ahead of them. Her people had been in and out of battle for weeks now, but this was different. She had no idea what awaited them in Varus. Was there truly some massive enemy supply base? And if it was there, what would be defending it? Could Dauntless and Intrepid really take it out? Or would the two battleships be overwhelmed and destroyed?
She didn’t know…and she wouldn’t. Not until she took her ship through the transwarp link and into the Varus system. All she could do now was make sure Intrepid was ready for battle.
“Commander Nordstrom, I want all weapons stations to conduct full diagnostic self-checks. And contact Commander Merton. I want him to check both reactors and every power line, especially the ones feeding the primaries.”
“Yes, Captain.”
She didn’t know what was waiting for them, but she was sure of one thing. Intrepid would be ready for it.
* * *
“All stations report ready for transit, Captain. Gunnery stations on full alert, and all pilots are standing to their fighters. Commander Fritz reports primaries and all systems fully operational.”
“Thank you, Commander Travis.” Barron nodded grimly. He was about to lead his people into action once again…and he knew it was likely not all of them would be coming back.
If any of us come back…
“Give my compliments to Commander Fritz.” Barron knew his ship was badly battered from its past fights, held together by a series of hasty, incomplete repairs. It was no small feat that Fritz and her people had managed to get Dauntless one hundred percent functional, and he wanted them to know he realized it. He considered it a poor reward for competence to be taken for granted.
“Yes, sir.” Travis turned back to her station and relayed his words.
“I want Red squadron to launch as soon as we clear the transit point, and I want a spread of drones deployed as well. We have to know what we’re facing, and we have to know as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir. Red squadron is standing by, all pilots in their craft, and the drones are ready to launch as soon as systems come back online.”
“Very well.” Barron paused briefly, taking a few deep breaths. “Forward, five percent thrust. Take us in, Commander.”
“Initiating five percent thrust. Project transwarp entry in forty-five seconds. Estimated length of passage, twent
y-six seconds.”
Barron leaned back, absent-mindedly checking his fastened harness. He didn’t necessarily expect to meet resistance as soon as Dauntless emerged in Varus. If surprise was still on his side, it was unlikely the enemy had forces positioned right against the portal exit. But there was no way to be sure, except to go through and see what was there.
“Entry in thirty seconds.”
Whatever was or was not waiting right at the other end of the transwarp link, he had no doubt there were enemy forces in Varus. He was at a loss to explain how a mobile supply base could possibly service a fleet the size of the Union invasion force, but the references to it were too clear to ignore. He believed there was something in the system ahead, and if there was a major supply nexus of some sort, there would be protection for it as well.
“Fifteen seconds to transit. All personnel, secure for transwarp passage.”
Barron took a deep breath. Transits weren’t what he’d call comfortable, but he was used to them by now. He knew some people were more sensitive than others to the alien nature of transwarp space. He’d never had the hallucinations he knew some experienced, but there was always some pain, and a bit of nausea.
For an instant, he wondered if he truly hoped to find the supply base on the other side…or if he secretly hoped the information gleaned from the enemy nav unit had been wrong, that Varus would be empty, or at worst patrolled by a few escort ships. But he pushed such thoughts aside. He felt fear, certainly, more pronounced for the fact that his people would be fighting deep behind enemy lines, cut off from home and from the rest of their comrades in the fleet. But he couldn’t hope for an empty system. The Confederation needed a respite, and he and his people could give it to them. If they found a major source of enemy supply…and if they managed to destroy it.
“Transit commencing now…”
Barron closed his eyes, more out of habit than for any particular reason. The swirling lights so common during transwarp journeys were not harmful. In fact, they could be quite beautiful. And closing his eyes did nothing to relieve the headaches or flopping in his stomach that constituted his body’s own reaction to alien space.
The bridge was silent. Sound waves didn’t travel in transwarp space, at least not in any way familiar to human science. It was an odd experience, certainly, especially the first time, but Barron had made dozens of transits. Hundreds. He just sat still and waited for the seconds to slowly pass.
Dauntless was traveling at an incalculable speed, or none at all, depending on which space-time model and system of mathematics one subscribed to. Efforts to explain the technology of the fallen human civilization that had preceded the present-day nations were mostly unsuccessful. No one knew why the transwarp links functioned, much less had any idea how to construct new ones. There were many non-functioning portals too, remains of links that, by the best guess anyone would offer, had been destroyed on the other side. No one knew if there were people in those systems, trapped, or even connected to other worlds through alternate links.
Barron tried to clear his mind. His thoughts tended to wander during transits, when time seemed to lose all meaning. He knew the trip would last less than a minute, but it seemed to him as though hours had already passed. Then, suddenly, he felt his stomach heave once, and he forced back the bile rising in his throat. He opened his eyes, just as his screen reactivated and displayed the blackness of normal space.
“Active scanners on full power,” he snapped. “Red squadron, launch.”
“All scanners at full, Captain. Alpha bay reports launch operations underway.” As if to emphasize his first officer’s words, Barron could feel the light vibrations of the launch catapults as they began to send the fighters of Red squadron out into space.
“Probes launched, Captain. All weapons systems have checked in. They remain on full alert status. Primary batteries fully charged and ready to fire.”
“Very well, Commander.” He waited, leaning into his chair, his eyes moving back and forth from the massive display tank to his own workstation screens. Nothing. No contacts, none at all.
He realized he’d been holding his breath, and he let it out. There was nothing near the transit point, no enemy ships, no deployed fighters. Whatever fight awaited his people in Varus, it would not be here, at the transit point. That meant the other ships would have time to complete their jumps, that his small task force would have time to get into formation before the battle.
Unless there’s really nothing here. Maybe that information was bogus…
He felt the urge to say something, to snap out orders to Travis, to Darrow, to anyone. But there was nothing he could do. None of them could rewrite the laws of physics. Communications moved at the speed of light, and not faster. And probes were vastly slower, despite their big engines and 50g acceleration. It would take minutes to get data from deeper in-system, hours even, depending how far the enemy was from the transit point. And there was nothing Barron could do but wait.
“Captain, Intrepid is emerging from the transit point.”
“Very well. Advise Captain Eaton we will move forward as soon as all ships have entered the system.”
“Yes, sir.”
Barron sat and watched as Intrepid, and then the other three ships, emerged and formed up around Dauntless. His tiny fleet was ready…but ready for what? He still didn’t know.
“Commander, the task force will accelerate at 4g, directly toward the primary.” He had no idea where the enemy forces might be, if indeed they were here. But the transwarp link had dumped his ships in the middle of the system, just between the four rocky inner worlds and the nearest of the three gas giants.
“Yes, Capt…” Travis spun around, looking over at Barron. “Sir, we’re getting something from the drones. Orbiting planet five. It’s big, Captain. No, more than big, it’s…”
But Barron didn’t hear any more. His mind had gone blank, his eyes fixed on his own screen, staring in utter disbelief at what he saw.
Oh my God, how is this even possible?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Midday to Turas Transit Point
Ultara System
308 AC
Stockton watched the small bars on his display as they moved slowly to the right. The red lights changed to yellow, as the readings moved from critically low on fuel and air to moderate levels, and then to green as his tanks approached full. His stocks had been almost exhausted before the transfer. He’d pushed his ship as far as he could before stopping again to refuel and replenish his air from the shuttle. The longer he stretched each reload, the fewer he needed. That meant less time spent immobile and helpless. He shuddered to think of how vulnerable he was, his engine offline, ship tethered to the shuttle.
He had other reasons for minimizing his refueling efforts, cool, rational thoughts quite at odds with his image as the fearless, arrogant fighter ace. He had reviewed every aspect of his mission, considered each thing that could go wrong—indeed, he had little else to do as the endless hours passed.
There was nothing to be done about the enemy…if they found him they found him. He didn’t have a beam hot enough to make a piece of toast, so he wasn’t about to fight his way out of any mess. But an enemy attack wasn’t his only worry; there were all sorts of other things that could kill him out here, including a failure of the hastily jury-rigged system that allowed him to refuel from the shuttle.
It took precision positioning to line up the two ships so perfectly, but that wasn’t his concern. He knew he could nudge his fighter wherever he needed it to go. But hooking up with the shuttle also required perfect performance from the fragile umbilicals, and the robot arms that put them in place. One failure, one part of the system slipping centimeters out of alignment, and he was dead. It would just be a matter of waiting for his air to run out.
The white lights above his tank readouts flicked on, and a small buzzer sounded. His fighter’s fuel tanks were topped off, his air supply fully replenished. He’d be good for hours now�
�it was amazing how far a fighter’s fuel went without the rapid acceleration and deceleration of combat. He only needed enough thrust to establish his vector and reach a reasonable cruising velocity, and even then he couldn’t go too fast, because the cumbersome shuttle had to match his maneuvers.
He sighed as he flipped a series of switches, disengaging the fuel and air lines, and directing the shuttle’s AI to pull them back into place. He watched on his scanner as the robot arms slowly retracted, waiting for the signal that the shuttle was ready. When the green light blinked on he tapped his throttle, pulling the fighter slowly away from the shuttle. He hit the maneuvering thruster, spinning the fighter slowly, orienting his engine along the vector toward the Turas transwarp link. “Four g thrust commencing in five, four, three, two, one…”
He pulled back on the throttle, blasting his engines, accelerating toward his destination. He wasn’t accustomed to announcing his intentions out loud, but he’d found that the shuttle’s AI was better able to follow closely if he gave it advanced notice of what he was intending. He found it annoying, but then he told himself the fuel and air on the shuttle was all that stood between him and some manner of unpleasant death.
He’d kept his thrust to a maximum of 4g, and usually even less. The shuttle was one reason, though he suspected even modified as it was to carry fuel tanks, it could pull at least 6g for a while. The enemy was the other. Ultara seemed to be devoid of enemy ships, at least as far as his fighter’s limited scanning suite could detect. But he didn’t dare engage his active scanners, so he was limited to data from passive sweeps. The stealth setup made his own fighter harder to detect, but even Commander Fritz had been uncertain how much protection the ECM device would extend to the nearby shuttle. Blasting engines at full was practically begging to be spotted, and while Stockton wasn’t one to run from a fight, his lack of weapons made the prospect…unappealing.
He glanced down at the display. Fourteen hours to the Turas transwarp link. He’d thought he’d understood boredom before. Service on a battleship, especially in peacetime, involved long stretches of inactivity. But this mission had taught him the true meaning of boredom. It had been endless, unchanging hours of nothing. No maneuvers, no acceleration or deceleration except when his course required a vector change. Nothing but the constant blackness of space.
