Blood on the Stars Collection 1

by Jay Allan

  “I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what I’m talking about, Captain.” Fritz’s tone was cool, but Barron could hear the excitement behind her words. She really seemed to believe her plan could work. And he had long ago learned never to discount anything from his gifted chief engineer.

  “What are you talking about, Fritzie?”

  “We seed the space around this thing with those canisters, each of them equipped with a small charge, enough to crack open the shell. I might even be able to rig up some kind of proximity fuse, so that any enemy ship moving within, say, ten or twenty kilometers triggers a detonation.”

  “But we’ve tried to use nuclear weapons in space before…it’s just too hard to get close enough to cause real damage.”

  “For nuclear weapons. We’re talking about an entirely different order of magnitude here, Captain.”

  “How different?”

  Fritz looked down at the cylinder laying on the floor to the side. “My best guess is that one of those containers contains enough antimatter to generate an eight or nine teraton blast.”

  “Teraton?” Barron stared back at his engineer, his expression one of shock.

  “Yes, sir. Assuming total annihilation. And while the near-vacuum of space might present some problems for a pure cache of antimatter finding enough matter with which to annihilate, the outer structure of the canister itself would provide more than enough in this case.”

  Barron looked down at the long rows of cylinders stacked up in the storage area. “That is why these things are still here, functioning after all these years. But they would have had to develop containment like that, or they could never have carried all of this inside their ship.”

  “That’s true, sir. Any one of these containers failing for a fraction of a second would have reduced even this enormous vessel to plasma. The failure likelihood would have to zero out at least thirty decimals to make antimatter power feasible. To our science, such a level of reliability and durability is a fantasy. But these people—our ancestors—mastered that, and much more.” She paused for an instant. “We know so much was lost in the Cataclysm, but to see something like this…”

  “I know, Fritzie. What must their information tech have been, their medicine? But we don’t have time for any of that now. If you tell me you can make me weapons out of those things, I need you to do it. Now. Dauntless doesn’t have much time left.”

  “I can make you bombs, sir…but I can’t get the enemy to come to them. And it would take far too long to rig up missiles, even if I could manage to put something together that had a chance of getting through their point defense.”

  “Don’t waste time playing around trying to build missiles, Fritzie…just make me a minefield. And don’t worry about getting the enemy here. Leave that to me.”

  * * *

  “He’s not going to make it. I doubt he’ll last the rest of the day.” Stu Weldon was staring across Dauntless’s sickbay, toward the eerily coffin-like structure that had been keeping Jake Stockton alive for weeks now. The unit’s status panel was blinking red, signaling imminent life systems failure. “Unless I do the regen procedure here.”

  The tall slender woman standing next to him looked up with surprise on her face. “How? We don’t have the facilities on Dauntless, Stu.”

  Weldon returned her gaze. Jane Silla was a gifted surgeon, the second ranking medical officer on Dauntless, and as educated a human being as he’d ever met, but she was far more beholden to orthodoxy than he was. Weldon had always been a bit of a rebel, and most of all, he hated to lose any patient he could save. Could even try to save.

  “He’s going to die, Jane. If we don’t do something.” He paused, his eyes darting back toward the life support pod. “We might lose him, but I’ll be damned if I’m just going to stand here and watch him die. We’re both familiar with the regen procedure. There’s no reason we can’t do it here with what we have on Dauntless.”

  “In theory, Stu. But in practice there are…”

  “What’s the alternative? Do nothing, and watch him die?” Weldon regretted the bluntness of his statement, but it was nothing but the truth. They could try to perform the necessary procedures, violating normal medical procedures to do it…or they could stand by and watch a man die.

  Silla nodded grudgingly. “All right, Stu…let’s give it a try.” She didn’t sound hopeful.

  “Let’s get him prepped.”

  “Now? What about the fighting? If we lose power…if we take a hit…”

  “Will the battle be over in an hour? In two or four? He’s got maybe twelve hours left, Jane, and he’s getting weaker with every passing moment. We have to do this now.”

  She just nodded silently.

  Weldon looked out across sickbay, calling over to one of the med techs. “I want Commander Stockton prepped for surgery at once.” Then he turned back to Silla. “Go get sterilized, Jane. I’m going to need you every step of the way on this.”

  “We’ll do everything we can, Stu.” She reached out and put her hand on his arm for a few seconds. Then she turned and walked across the room toward the prep area.

  Weldon looked back toward the tube keeping Stockton alive. “We’ll do everything we can, Jake. Everything we can. But, I need all you have to…I need you to fight with all you’ve got.” His words were soft, hushed, meant for his ears only. And perhaps, in some inexplicable way, for Stockton’s too.

  * * *

  “I’m glad you made it back, Andi.” Barron was surprised by the depth of sincerity in his words. He’d been in the makeshift command center Rogan’s Marines had set up on the ancient vessel. They had scavenged the AI systems from one of the assault shuttles to create it. He was focused on the battle taking place in the system, on his ship’s fight for survival…but the rogue captain had popped into his mind again and again, even as he watched Dauntless blast hard back toward the enemy. He’d regarded that maneuver at first with horror, and then a few seconds later with a grim smile as he realized what Atara Travis was up to. It was a gutsy move, and he wondered if he’d have had the grit to try it himself. Still, it was a big risk…

  Everything is a big risk right now…

  For all the distraction and the aching feeling in his gut about his ship, he’d also been worried about Lafarge, plain and simple. The fact that any concern could get through what he was feeling for Dauntless and its people was nothing short of amazing to him.

  “Yes, given the choice between survival and getting blasted to atoms, I’ll take making it out any time.” Lafarge smiled. “I left my engineer behind with a squad of your Marines. I don’t know if he’ll be able to get the frigate underway, but he’ll do his best. He may not be a match for your Commander Fritz, but Lex knows his way around an engine. And he’s ex-military.”

  Barron looked surprised. He stared back without saying anything.

  “What, stunned a member of your vaunted Confederation navy could sink so low as to sign onto a pirate ship?”

  “Now, don’t get touchy…I never called you a pirate. A smuggler maybe, or a no-account adventurer.” He managed a smile, for a few seconds anyway. “But whatever you are, I’m happy that frigate wasn’t nursing an operational battery.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice shedding the touchiness of a moment before. “I’m pretty happy about that too.”

  “Captain…” Anya Fritz walked into the makeshift control room. “I’ve been working on that…” She glanced at Lafarge suspiciously. “…that project we discussed.”

  Barron exhaled softly. “I don’t think Captain Lafarge is going to sell us out to the Union, Fritzie.” He paused for a few seconds. “What do you have for me?”

  “I think we can do it, sir. I’ll have to scavenge parts from at least one of the assault shuttles…but I think I can get most of what I need from the ship we already tore apart.”

  “That’s good news, Fritzie. At least if any of us are still nursing some thoughts about getting out of here…”

&n
bsp; Fritz hesitated, thrown off her train of thought by Barron’s dark humor.

  “Go on, Fritzie…don’t mind me. My brain wanders into dark places sometimes.”

  “Yes, Captain…ah…well, I think I can rig a proximity fuse pretty easily from some of the systems on the shuttle. That will give us the option of blowing them all at once, or letting them go as enemy ships approach. With a little luck, we might get thirty of these things ready…even fifty. I think I can even work up some hasty ECM to disguise them, at least somewhat. The canisters do half that job already. But we need some time.”

  “How much time, Fritzie? I’m not sure we’ve got all that much left.”

  “A day.”

  Barron shook his head. “Dauntless is heading into battle right now. Even if she’s able to defeat the enemy battleship she’s facing, and if she can pull back before the other ships bracket her—and those are huge ifs—a day is still a long time.” He paused. “Unless she takes off, and doesn’t try to defend the artifact.”

  “But the enemy would take the vessel. They would…” It was Andi Lafarge speaking now, but only because she’d beat Fritz to saying the same thing.

  “They’d try to take the station. Bryan Rogan and the Marines might have something to say about that.” Barron’s voice was stone cold. As crazy as his scheme sounded, he was dead serious.

  “But Captain,” Fritz said, “even one Union battleship carries at least two hundred-fifty or three hundred FRs. Between the casualties they suffered and the forces still on the Union frigate, Captain Rogan couldn’t have more than a hundred-twenty Marines left.”

  “One hundred-twenty-eight, Fritzie. Not great odds, but no worse than Dauntless is facing.”

  “It’s no worse if they only send one ship’s worth of FRs. What if they land six hundred troops? Or nine hundred?”

  “They can’t ignore Dauntless, Fritzie. My bet is, we’ve won enough of a rep that they’ll send two ships after her, not one. And the one Atara hit before is hurt. Based on the scans we’ve been getting, she’s still near the transit point, limping along with less than 1g acceleration and limited energy output.”

  “That’s a lot of ‘ifs,’ sir.” Fritz looked uncomfortable.

  “You have a better plan? If we let them destroy Dauntless, they’ll come here with everything they have…and Rogan’s people will have the same fight, but against even worse odds. I don’t see any of our Marines surrendering to the FRs, do you, Commander?”

  “No sir,” Fritz said. “I don’t.”

  “And even if they defeat any boarding action, once Dauntless is gone, what chance do we have to hold out against subsequent assaults?”

  “None.” Fritz paused. “You’re right, sir. There is no option.”

  Barron frowned. “I have to get word to Atara. My last orders were to stand and defend the artifact. She won’t pull back farther into the system, not unless I tell her to. We can’t risk a transmission…if the enemy figures out that we’re setting up a minefield, we’re as good as done for. They’ll launch an intensive sweep, enough to overcome whatever ECM you are able to put together. We need some level of surprise to pull this off.” He paused for a few seconds. “I’ll have to go back…I should be there anyway. I’ll take one of the assault shuttles.”

  “You can’t, Captain, for the same reason you didn’t want to send the Marines that way. If the enemy detects your course…well, sir, an assault shuttle isn’t the fastest or most maneuverable ship out there.”

  “There’s no choice, Fritzie. I’ll have to risk it. Meanwhile you get the minefield ready, and we’ll see what we can do about setting up a trap for our Union friends. You’ll be in charge here once I’m gone.”

  “Captain…” It was obvious she didn’t like the plan…and equally clear she had no alternative to offer.

  “No.”

  Barron turned to face Lafarge, standing right behind him.

  “You can’t take one of those shuttles. They could catch you in one of those in a garbage scow,” she said with more feeling than accuracy. “I’ll take you in Pegasus, just like we did with the Marines.”

  “No, Andi…not this time. The enemy frigate was in the opposite direction of the fighting. We’ll be heading right toward Dauntless, while the enemy ships are all trying to close with her. It’s too risky.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot less risky than letting the one man who might get us out of this mess get blown to bits on a shuttle that handles like a snorting pig. Don’t underestimate Pegasus, Tyler…or me. I’ll fly you there myself.”

  “I insist on that, at least, Captain.” Fritz’s voice was like iron. “She’s right. You’ll have a much better chance this way. That ship of hers has jets.”

  Barron opened his mouth to argue, but then he closed it again. He was between two women who clearly didn’t get along, but they were doubling up on him right now. He knew Fritz would risk Andi’s life—or throw it away entirely—if it increased his chances of getting through by half a percent. And there was no way to explain, to either of them, why he really didn’t want Lafarge to go.

  “All right…we’ll take Pegasus.” There was resignation in his voice, and worry. This trip would be far more dangerous than the expedition to the frigate. They would be running a gauntlet through the entire enemy fleet, trying to reach Dauntless amid waves of fighters and escort ships…any one of which could blast Lafarge’s vessel to ions.

  “Good,” Lafarge said, looking entirely too self-satisfied to suit Barron. “I’ll get the engines fired up.”

  “Yes, the sooner we get going the better.”

  She smiled at him—damn, that is distracting, even now—then she turned and half-walked, half-jogged toward the door.

  He turned back toward Fritz. “Fritzie, you need to gather up everything you need, and move it all with your engineers to some location that seems far from any ingress points. If the Marines are going to have to fight to hold this place, the last thing we want is the enemy getting to your people.”

  “Yes, sir. I think I found a few spots when I was looking around.” She looked behind her. “But we’ve got a lot of this stuff to move and not much time. And no lifts, no cargo sleds.”

  “The Marines can help…as long as you move quickly and finish before they have to set up their defense.” He took a deep breath, fighting back the stress he felt closing in all around him. He hated being away from Dauntless. He hated leaving Fritz and her engineers and the Marines behind. He hated the thought of getting blown to bits in Pegasus on the way back, of Andi dying, his people being left without him. He’d been in impossible situations before, but he wondered now if this wasn’t the most desperate of all. If it wouldn’t be the last.

  “I’ve got to brief Captain Rogan before I go. I’ll have him send half his people down here to help your crews.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good luck, Fritzie,” he said, realizing the instant the words left his mouth he’d failed utterly to disguise the emotion he felt. Barron didn’t give up…it just wasn’t the way he was wired. But he knew his chances of seeing his engineer again weren’t good.

  “And to you, sir.” Fritz was just as affected. “It’s been an honor serving with you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  CFS Dauntless

  System Z-111 (Chrysallis)

  Deep Inside the Quarantined Zone (“The Badlands”)

  309 AC

  “Bring us around, Lieutenant…bearing 302.132.289.” Atara Travis was gripping the arms of her chair—of Tyler Barron’s chair, she reminded herself. Dauntless was operating at only thirty percent thrust, but the dampeners weren’t functioning properly, and the intermittent bursts of force that resulted were distracting, to say the least. The battle had been hard fought, the Union battleship putting up one hell of a fight.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Travis could feel the change in Dauntless’s thrust as the positioning jets reoriented the engines to the course she’d ordered. She knew she had
to pull out…and soon. Her squadrons had done heroic work, and they’d paid the price for it too. Her people had shot down dozens of approaching bombers, but they hadn’t been able to turn back the entire first wave. Two bombers had managed to plant their torpedoes in the battleship’s guts, and a dozen or more interceptors had raked her hull. Travis knew Dauntless had been lucky…she’d taken damage, but nothing critical.

  “Port secondaries…lock on to that frigate. Open fire!”

  Darrow repeated the command, and an instant later Travis heard the high-pitched sound of the weapons. She imagined the great bursts of focused light, tearing through the twenty thousand kilometers between Dauntless and the enemy escort ship. Then she saw the results on the display. The broadside had hit dead on…and the smaller ship stood motionless in space for a few tortured seconds before it split open like an egg, its shattered hull breaking into two large and hundreds of smaller pieces.

  There was a round of muffled applause on the bridge. Any kill was a cause for celebration, but picking off a frigate or two wasn’t going to get Dauntless or its people out of the Chrysallis system. Indeed, as far as Atara Travis could see, nothing could manage that lofty goal.

  “Switch bearing to 302.287.102, increase thrust to forty-five percent.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Travis knew her people whispered behind her back, speaking of her as though her grasp of numbers made her some kind of genius. She’d always had a strong handle on the mathematics of space travel, and her mind worked quickly with complex calculations, allowing her to compute courses that sent other officers to their AIs. But she was far from the savant some of Dauntless’s people made her out to be.

  If they think I’m more capable than I am, I don’t suppose that can hurt right now…

  “Starboard guns…ready as we come about…” Her eyes were locked on another frigate, one of the newer, heavier classes. “I want all guns at one hundred five percent, Lieutenant. And I want the gunners to be sure of their lock…we don’t have the luxury of missing right now.”