“Hangar One,” said the voice over the com.
“Chief, this is the Captain. I want a shuttle prepped. I’m going down to the planet.”
“Destination, ma’am? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“The alpha excavation site. I want to get up close and personal with one of those constructs.”
* * *
Merriwether Lewis sat fifty-five light hours from Big Bastard, just outside the hyper VI limit. A number of recon probes were deployed further in, watching the star, sending their telemetry at light speed to the cruiser. They were also in contact with the ship through grav pulse, not really transmitting all that much information, but letting the cruiser know almost instantaneously when there was a major change in the enormous fusion furnace that was the star.
And I still really don’t like this, thought Captain Walther Huang, sitting in his bridge command chair and staring at the holo that showed the bloated blue white body of the star, massive prominences rising and falling by the second.
The plan was for them to jump into hyper VI as soon as the star blew and head back to the star of Klassek, on a least time profile. It would take less than one day to get there, and they would send a grav pulse signal, as well as a com laser, as soon as they translated out at the hyper I barrier. That would give the Imperial force almost six months warning.
And everyone believes, based on the data, that it won’t blow or another nine and a half months. I should be comfortable with that estimate as well. But it’s different when you’re sitting next to the biggest time bomb in the Perseus Arm, hoping that the timer is set to the correct setting.
“I almost wish the show would start,” said Commander Stephanie Harrison, the Exec, standing by the Captain’s chair. She was off duty, but, like many of the other bridge crew, she was drawn here, where the commands would be given when Big Bastard blew.
“I don’t think the Admiral would like that,” said the Captain with a smile. “And I’m damn sure the Klassekians wouldn’t be too enthused by the idea of an earlier show time.”
“I was doing some research on supernovas, Captain,” said the Exec, who had advanced training in astrophysics, just below the doctoral level. “You know, these things release a shitload of gravitons when they blow.”
“So. I would expect as much, with the damned twenty-eight solar masses of material being blasted away from their point source out into the Universe.”
“The problem is, sir, that it effects hyperspace as well. We won’t be able to pick up any transit signals through any of the dimensions.”
“I don’t think that will be that big a problem, Exec. There aren’t a lot of ships running around here for us to track.”
“There’s also a theory that we might see some other effects,” said the Exec with a frown.
“Like what?”
“Problems entering and leaving hyper, for one.” The Exec smiled as she watched the expression on the Captain’s. “Of course, this is all theoretical. There is a lot of disagreement about the effects on hyper, as no one has tried to enter or leave hyper in the vicinity of a supernova before. In fact, the last known supernova in this arm was six hundred and thirty-two years ago, and it was over two hundred light years from civilization.”
“Then how do we know so much about them?” asked the Captain, a worried expression on his face.
“Long range observation. With grav lensing, we can see them almost like we’re there.”
“Thanks for telling me this, Exec,” said the Captain with a grimace. “I feel so much better about sitting here now.”
“My pleasure, sir,” said the other officer with a smile. “I figure if I have to sit around for the next nine months worrying about this, the guy who makes the decisions should have to worry as well.”
Chapter Nine
We tend to think that we have this space thing licked. The truth is, we are still relative newcomers to space, having only traversed it for less that twenty-five hundred years. We have evidence of species that had traveled space for a hundred thousand years, and they too had their limitations. I believe there are a lot more surprises out there than we think, and we shouldn’t grow so complacent.
Industrialist Yang Chung, the Year 754.
NOVEMBER 20TH, 1000. D-228.
Captain Mandy Albright had started off in the small craft pilot track before switching to the tactical track, then the series of others that were required for command of a starship. She still loved the feel of a shuttle or other small craft under her hand, though she didn’t have much chance to pilot anymore. So she took advantage of the opportunity to sit the pilot’s seat on this trip, relegating Ensign Nguyen Dat to the co-chair.
She was not surprised to discover that the young Ensign was a relative, distant, to the Admiral. Many families had a tradition in the Fleet. And some had that tradition in certain areas of the Fleet, like the Command.
“How am I doing, Dat?” she asked the Ensign as she cut into the atmosphere on manual, the only way a real pilot would fly the transition from vacuum to planetside.
“Fine, ma’am,” said the youngster, who was regarded as the hottest pilot on the Clark. “You still have the touch.”
Flatterer, thought the Captain with a silent chuckle. But she could feel how steady her own hand was on the stick, as the craft shook slightly from the turbulence of hypersonic travel.
I better slow it down, she thought as they penetrated into the denser atmosphere. She checked the scope, looking for those fighters that had been playing chicken with so many shuttle flights. There was nothing to be seen, and the best stealth the aliens had stood out like a flashing strobe to Imperial sensors. It only took the shuttle minutes to go from orbit to atmosphere, and, with full stealth systems engaged, the Honish had not had time to scramble their aircraft on an intercept.
But now that they were deep into the air, with the shuttle traveling at high Mach, they were producing prodigious amounts of friction generated heat, making them easy to spot.
“The site is just beyond these mountains,” said Nguyen, pointing to the high peaks ahead. The valley between was a favorite route to the site, due to the beauty of the scenery at this altitude.
Mandy checked the sensors and saw that the altitude of the valley between the two highest peaks was about four thousand meters, and she dropped the shuttle to forty-three hundred and slowed to just over Mach 2. The mountains towered thousands of meters higher to each side, and the pass was more than wide enough for safe flight through. She caught sight of several lower mountains behind the high range.
“Warning,” called out the craft’s computer. “We are being impacted by targeting systems.”
Nguyen looked down at his panel. “We’re being painted with targeting sensors.”
“Theirs?”
“No, ma’am. Ours.”
Albright engaged the craft’s defensive systems, which would have defeated any targeting systems the aliens possessed. But their own technology was made to defeat defensive systems like their own. Not one hundred percent, but close enough.
“Second source is locking on,” called out Nguyen.
“Locking missiles on sources,” said Albright, opening the ordnance doors and reaching for the trigger on the stick. “You all hang on back there,” she called over the intercom to her passengers, a pair of ratings and a Marine along for security.
“We have….”
Nguyen never had a chance to finish his statement that the missiles targeting them had launched. Those weapons left their launchers at eight thousand gravities acceleration, streaking the eight and ten kilometers from their respective launch sites and heading into the shuttle in less than a thousandth of a second.
One missile, the closest, was hit by an automatic defensive laser and broke apart. The warhead exploded five hundred meters from the shuttle, sending a wave of shrapnel into the left side of the craft. Most of it broke up on the tough armor, though some of the larger pieces penetrated, one to pass through the armo
red body of one of the ratings, pureeing her internal organs within her suit.
The second missile streaked in, a clean miss by the defensive laser, to strike the rear of the shuttle. The two hundred ton equivalent antimatter warhead detonated as the weapon penetrated through the armor and into the rear cargo compartment. The blast tossed the shuttle over and down, and it headed into the mountains at Mach 3.
The autoeject system worked perfectly, at least for those it worked for at all. Albright had an instant of awareness as her straps locked into place, and the armored panels that made up her escape capsule moved so quickly into place that they seemed to teleport. Foam injected into the capsule, filling up the spaces between the shell and her suit. An instant later the capsule was ejected from the craft, and the dazed officer realized she was going to survive.
The capsule headed for the nearest flat area, touching down gently, the metal panels falling away, the foam evaporating in an instant, leaving the Captain in her seat, enclosed in her battle armor. My people, was her first thought, and she checked her HUD to ascertain their locations. A red icon showed up down the valley, an indication of the homing beacon of one of the spacers whose life functions had terminated. She turned her head and saw two more beacons appear, Nguyen and the Marine. She breathed a sigh of relief as she noted that both icons were green.
Uh oh, she thought as she focused in on Nguyen, who was unmoving in his seat, and saw movement down the valley, working their way to the position of the Ensign. She zoomed in on the people, and saw that they were dressed in very good low tech cammo, weapons in hand. Including what looked like a stolen particle beam rifle.
We fell for their trap, sending shuttle after shuttle through this same spot, just asking for it. She pulled her pistol from its holster and pushed some studs on the receiver. The scope rose into place, while a wire stock extended from the back. She got into a prone position and took aim at the alien with the particle beam.
“What do you want me to do, ma’am,” asked the Marine, Private DeGeorgio, over the com.
“Do you see those people heading for Nguyen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When I fire at the one with the beam weapon, you take out the man to the rear, then switch to the point.”
“Can do, ma’am.”
Albright took aim, placing her cross hairs right on the chest of the alien with the beam weapon. It was a flat trajectory weapon, the protons traveling at such velocity that there would be no drop off, no deflection due to wind. Where the crosshairs were set the beam would strike.
Mandy squeezed the trigger, and the dark red beam, buzzing like a million angry bees, connected the barrel of her pistol with the chest of the alien.
With a spurt of red steam the torso of the alien disappeared, vaporized by the terrific heat generated by the transfer of kinetic energy. She moved the beam down a bit and hit the receiver of the rifle, vaporizing plastics, melting alloys, and basically rendering the weapon useless.
The beam from the Marine’s rifle hit the trailing guerilla at almost the same instant, with similar if even greater results. Just over a second later the point man, or the half of his mass that was left, hit the ground.
“I’m going for Nguyen,” she told the Marine over the com. “Cover me.”
“Maybe I should go, ma’am.”
“You’ve got the better weapon, so you cover,” she growled, jumping to her feet and flying down the slope on her grabbers.
Some rounds cracked by, one striking her helmet and bouncing away. She wasn’t worried about their personal weapons, not with her armor. She was concerned about any shoulder fired antitank weapons they might have, which could damage her suit, and possibly penetrate.
The Marine’s particle beam buzzed, twice. The second time, the loud crump of an explosion sounded, and Albright raised her eyes to see a cloud of smoke and dust where an alien had once been.
“That last one had one of their shoulder fired rocket launchers, ma’am. I was thinking that you really didn’t want to test your suit against that one.”
“Thanks,” she told the Marine, stopping her suit and settling to the ground next to Nguyen. She checked the vitals of the Ensign, sighing again as his signs showed that though he was unconscious, he was not in any danger. At least until those fanatics get a hold of him and make him a hostage. Or an example of how to take a head off. She unstrapped the Ensign, ran a wire from her suit to his, and took to the air, his suit now slaved to hers.
She landed the both of them next to the Marine. “Set your suit to full stealth. I want us well out of this area. Have you tried to contact the ship?”
“I have, ma’am. But something is jamming us.”
The damned launchers, she thought. They had the functionality to jam the defensive systems of targeted craft, giving the missile a much better chance of penetrating the defensive envelope. But with a little tweaking, they could also jam com. And obviously the aliens had figured out how to tweak it. Probably thanks to the damned holo manuals that were built into them. Each launcher had four ready rounds in it. They had to have used two launchers to fire at her shuttle, based on how closely spaced the launches were. So, they have six more shots, and the hope of luring more of our aircraft into range. And we’ve got to give them something else to think about.
“How are you at guerilla warfare, Private DeGeorgio?”
* * *
“We’re picking up radiation consistent with plutonium, Lt,” said the Corporal in charge of the perimeter patrol. “I think it’s coming from that vehicle parked on the roadside.”
“Check it out, Gallager,” ordered Lt. Dietz, the officer in charge of the excavation site security. “But be careful. These people do have nuclear capabilities.”
No shit, thought the Corporal, who had some coursework in physics through the Command Education Program. Plutonium’s not something they’re just going to find lying around.
The van like conveyance had a couple of aliens around it, both looking with what appeared to be nervous expressions at the advancing Marines in their ton of armor. A couple of kilometers up the road was a moderate sized town of about twenty thousand, so there was always traffic. And people stopping to gawk at the humans. In fact, this vehicle, being a hundred meters outside the perimeter, would not have attracted much attention except for the fact that it was emitting rads.
“Hey,” yelled the Corporal over the speaker of his heavy battle armor, the translation program translating their speech into the local lingo. “What are you doing out here?”
“We’re having engine trouble,” said the smaller of the pair. “We were just about to walk into town and arrange for a tow.”
“We’re picking up some strange readings from your vehicle,” said Gallager, motioning for one of his men to keep the pair covered with his particle beam. “I have to ask you to open the vehicle so we can check it out.”
“What gives you the right to stop us and search us like common criminals,” said the larger of the aliens.
“Stand where you are,” ordered the Corporal, pointing at the two aliens, then walking up to the van and grabbing the door handle. He pulled and discovered that it was locked, then looked over at the aliens. “Would you mind unlocking this door.”
“I refuse,” said the smallest alien, while the larger’s nervous eyes kept moving from Marine to Marine.
“Suit yourself,” said Gallager, gripping the handle tightly, then ripping the door open, the strength of his suit tearing through the metal. The door slid open, revealing a large cylinder sitting in the cargo compartment. It would be the last thing the Corporal would ever see.
The device was a twenty megaton warhead, a city killer. It was much larger than a comparable Imperial weapon, if they had even used fission/fusion warheads anymore. The van was being monitored from afar, taking the triggering of the device out of the hands of the beings that had driven it there. They might not have the nerve to push the button while they were in the blast range. Instead, they we
re spared from making that decision when the triggering signal was sent from scores of kilometers away.
The fireball reached out to over four kilometers in each direction, encompassing the excavation site and the ancient arch, as well as the nearby town. The blast radius, over six kilometers, exerted pressures of up to eighteen thousand kilograms per square meter, destroying steel reinforced concrete buildings as if they were made of cardboard. Out to thirteen kilometers that blast wave was strong enough to destroy anything made of wood or plastic. The heat was fierce out to forty kilometers, and any life forms within that range suffered third degree burns.
Heavy combat suits were tough, and even a nuclear blast with a zero point less than a meter away was not enough to destroy the Marines’ armor. Even the radiation, enough to kill any life form instantly, could only push through a dose that would prove fatal in a short time, but no more. The suits were lifted into the air by the blast effect, and the concussive effect of the explosion killed the Marines within their armor before they knew what was happening.
The town first flashed with heat that set everything flammable aflame, then blew out the flames as it leveled every building in sight. Any survivors of the blast and heat waves would have died quickly from the overdose of rads. But there was no one left to die from radiation sickness. The death toll was total.
* * *
“Under cover,” was the command shouted over the com circuit as the flash of the detonation flared across faceplates throughout the excavation site.
Lt. Helen Moyahan looked up in time to see the wave of dirt and dust rolling toward her, as her suit registered the first of the heat and radiation. She looked for cover, someplace she could fly her suit in a moment, and saw no place close enough. Her suit was tough, like all medium battle armor, but only possessed a quarter of the heat and radiation protection of one of the heavy suits. She might survive a blast less than two kilometers away, but the odds were not good.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 1: Supernova. Page 11
