by Jay Allan
* * *
“Ana, we’ve got to turn back. We’ve been through each of these corridors half a dozen times. If they were anywhere around here, we’d have found them.” Frasier knew Cutter and the others were dead…or at least he couldn’t come up with any other possibility. Still, it was odd they hadn’t found more bodies. They’d evacuated the wounded and cataloged the dead. Cutter, Bruce, McCloud, and four of the others were unaccounted for. They had all just…disappeared. He’d have given his left arm for some working coms, but whatever weapon had destroyed their enemies had taken the Marine communications with them.
“We can’t give up on them, Duncan. They’re down here somewhere. Maybe lost…or hurt. They need us.” Her voice was desperate, bordering on distraught. He suspected she was beginning to think the same thing he was, though he knew she would fight the realization to the end.
He opened his mouth but quickly closed it again. He didn’t want to hurt her. He understood how hard she would take the loss of Cutter. Indeed, he knew losing the brilliant scientist would be a disaster for the entire fleet. They all owed their survival to two great pillars of strength—the tactical wizardry of Terrance Compton and the scientific genius of Hieronymus Cutter. But none of that changed the reality of the situation. They’d searched everywhere. Where could they be?
“We have to look again,” Ana insisted. “We have to.”
Frasier took in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds. Finally, he exhaled and said, “Ana, we have no idea what happened down here. We were caught, trapped, facing certain death. And now we can get our people out of here, try to get back to base camp. We don’t know how long we have…or if more enemy forces are on the way.”
She turned to face him, her expression blazing with defiance. “Then tell me what that was? The bots attacking us didn’t flee. They were destroyed. By something.” She paused, holding his gaze intently. “What?”
Frasier just returned her stare, silently at first. The truth was, he had no idea what had happened, what intervention had saved them all. It wasn’t anything they had, nothing Colonel Preston had done, certainly. It almost seemed like some force had intervened on their behalf…but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?
“See? You don’t know…any more than I do. Something helped us, or at least attacked the enemy. You can’t deny that. None of our people were killed, but the First Imperium bots were almost wiped out. Even if Hieronymus and the others weren’t out there, we’d still have to find out what was.”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting we have some kind of ally somewhere in these tunnels?” He shook his head. “No, more likely some kind of defense system malfunctioned, targeted them instead of us.”
“That was a weapon we’ve never seen before, Duncan. How many battles did your Marines fight against the First Imperium? Did you ever see anything like that?”
He paused, but then he finally answered. “No…but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves we need to explore here more. To get some answers.”
“And what if it was the enemy? What if they already got Hieronymus, Bruce, McCloud? What if they’re waiting down there for us to go deeper?
She stared at him, her face a mask of determination. “Then we die, Duncan. But I’m not running away, not while our friends and comrades are still down there. Not when there are questions we need answered.”
He watched her turn to the side and begin walking down the corridor. She took a dozen steps and stopped, turning around. “Are you coming,” she asked?
He felt a wave of defeat. He was ready to explore the passageways further, to seek out the answers they needed. But not with Ana. He wanted her safe, out of here. But he knew he’d lost the fight. Ana Zhukov wouldn’t be Ana Zhukov if she’d been willing to retreat and allow others to take risks she wouldn’t herself. And even though it was driving him crazy, he realized it was one of the things he most liked about her.
“Yes,” he said, his voice a mix of surrender and admiration. “I’m coming.”
* * *
“Ronnie?”
The voice was faint, distant. But Cutter knew what it was—who it was—in an instant.
“Ana!” he yelled back down the tunnel, quickening his pace as he did.
“Doctor, wait.” Kyle Bruce reached out, putting his armored hand on Cutter’s shoulder. “Let the pickets go forward first. “Fergus, Gwynn,” he shouted, “move down the corridor, see what’s coming.”
“It’s Ana Zhukov, Lieutenant. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.” Cutter looked off down the corridor. “Ana!” he shouted.
“Perhaps, Doctor. But anything is possible. It could be an imitation, a recording. She could be a prisoner. Maybe even…”
“Ronnie!” The voice was a bit closer, louder. And the tone was completely changed, one of relief.
Cutter tried to stifle a sigh. The Marines were a force to be reckoned with on a battlefield, but they could be a bit paranoid too, especially when assessing threats. He trotted forward, just as one of the scouts up ahead yelled back, “It’s Major Frasier, sir. And Dr. Zhukov.”
He was already on his way, and in a second he could see the shadowy figures up ahead…including one that had to be Ana, running down the tunnel followed by an armored Marine.
“Ronnie, I knew you were alive,” she yelled down the hall as she quickened her pace. She ran the rest of the way toward him, throwing open her arms and wrapping them around him.
“Ana, it is good to see you,” he said softly. She was a familiar presence, almost certainly the closest friend he’d ever had. They worked together almost every day. But now something seemed different. It wasn’t her, or their relationship. But Cutter was just beginning to comprehend how much had changed in the past twelve hours. And he was the only human being who knew the truth. He would have to spread the word, cautiously, at least at first.
And we have to decipher this technology…and figure out how to reach this planet Almeerhan spoke of. How many First Imperium fleets lie between us and our destination? How many desperate battles? Can thirty thousand of us really follow through on a destiny that was planned for an entire race? What chance do we really have? Any at all?
“Did you hear me?” Ana’s voice penetrated his thoughts. She was standing in front of him—though he couldn’t remember her pulling from his embrace—and there was an insistent sound to her tone.
“Sorry, Ana,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t get what you said.”
“That’s because you zoned out on me. Totally.” There was a slight annoyance to her voice, but it vanished quickly, overwhelmed by her joy at seeing him alive.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “What did you say?”
“I asked where you all were. We’ve been looking for hours…and then all of a sudden, you’re here.”
“We found something, Ana.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “Is it what we came for? New technology?”
“It’s what we came for. And so much more. For good or bad, this will change everything.”
She looked at him with an odd expression. “What do you mean, Ronnie?
“It’s more than I can tell you now. We need time, more than we can waste here.” He held up the small storage unit. “This is a data storage device…we need to figure out how to activate it. It has instructions for us. And technology. But first we have to get out of here.” There was a lost, dreamy quality to his voice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull his mind fully from his long conversation with Almeerhan.
“Are you okay, Ronnie?” Concern crept into her tone, and she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He took a breath and looked up at her. “You just have to trust me for now, Ana. I found something incredible. Far more than any of us had imagined.” He paused. “I’m still not sure if it is good or bad…or some combination of the two. But nothing will be the same.”
He looked all around him. The Marines were gathered, sta
ring silently.
“Does anybody have working communications?” he finally asked.
“No, Hieronymus,” Frasier replied. “Whatever took out all the enemy bots fried our com gear too.”
Cutter nodded, as if that was the answer he’d expected. “Then we’ve got to get going. Now. We have to get to the surface, back to the camp. And hope somebody’s still there. With good com. Because we’ve got to get through to Colonel Preston.” There was an ominous sound to his voice now, and the Marines around him stiffened, moved their hands closer to their weapons.
“It’s a long way through those tunnels, Hieronymus.” Frasier stared off down the dim corridor. “It took days to get down this far.”
“Well, it can’t take us days to get back, so everybody check your supply of stims and get ready for a long walk.” He paused, staring first at Ana then at Frasier …and finally at the Marines in turn. Then he looked back one last time toward the hidden complex where Almeerhan had spent the last 500,000 years, waiting.
“Because things are about to go to hell, and I can damned well guarantee none of us want to be around here when the shit hits it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Regent
The plan is proceeding precisely as intended. The enemy is retreating in increasing disarray, back toward system 17411…where they will finally meet their destruction. The forces of Command Unit Gamma 9736 are en route to 17411 as well. As soon as the enemy transits all forces through the warp gate, the converging fleets will follow. The humans will be trapped, facing large armadas positioned at every escape point. Even their great skill at war will avail them nothing against such a massive concentration of power.
I have ordered the intensity of the harassing attacks to be increased. The enemy are biologics, they are unable to operate continuously without a severe degradation of ability. The small attack forces will be destroyed launching these attacks, but they will reduce the operational capacity of the entire human fleet. By the time the enemy reaches system 17411, they will be worn down, utterly vulnerable to the final attack. And once they are gone, and Command Unit Gamma 9736 is neutralized, all the resources of the Imperium will be at least be directed toward finding the human home worlds…and eliminating the threat they represent for all time.
AS Midway
X51 system approaching X49 warp gate
The Fleet: 116 ships, 28198 crew
“We’re going straight down its throat, Lieutenant. And I want Newfoundland and Tokugawa right on our flanks.” Kato was staring at the Leviathan on the display. The great enemy battleship had taken massive damage, and its hull was torn open in two dozen places. Massive plumes of gas and liquids blasted out from ruptured systems, freezing almost instantly as they hit the icy cold of space. Internal explosions wracked the vessel, and its fire had been reduced to one main laser battery and a handful of smaller guns. But it was still there, still in the fight, despite all that Fujin’s and Kato’s people had hurled at it.
“Yes, sir.” The tactical officer sounded as bloodthirsty as his captain. The entire bridge crew radiated rage, hostility. They had paid heavily in their fight against the First Imperium flagship, and they wanted their just due. They ached to see—to feel—the death of their enemy.
“Sir, we’ve got communications from Midway coming in. Orders from Admiral Compton.”
“What are they, Lieutenant?” Kato sounded distracted, annoyed. He didn’t need orders now. He needed to kill this horrific alien ship.
“Sir, we are ordered to withdraw at once from combat and to follow the fleet to the X49 warp gate at our best possible speed.”
Kato felt like someone had punched him in the gut. No! Not now! Not when we’re so close…
“Advise the admiral that we are close to destroying the Leviathan.”
“Sir, there is more coming in. We are expressly ordered to withdraw at once. We are not to continue combat, regardless of the condition of the Leviathan.”
Kato clenched his fists, shaking with rage. He ached to disobey, to remain and finish the fight. Just a few more minutes…
But these orders were from Terrance Compton. Anyone else, he might have disobeyed, even for a few minutes. But it wasn’t in him to defy Admiral Compton, the hero, the man who had saved them all. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.
Finally, he turned toward the tactical officer. “We have our orders, Lieutenant. Let’s follow them. All batteries cease fire. All power to the engines. Thrust at 4g toward the fleet…now.”
A few seconds passed, and then he felt the force of four times his weight slam into him. His ships were on their way…disengaging. Running.
He took one last longing look up at the Leviathan on the display. Then he forced his frustration aside. He had his orders…and one glance at the nav screen told him they were going to have to hurry if they didn’t want to be left behind.
“Prepare for high gee thrust, Lieutenant. I want everybody in the tanks in five minutes.”
* * *
Compton stared across the bridge, silent, trying but failing to keep the emotions from his face. He’d felt a surge of excitement when Cortez told him Wolverine had transited. He’d been worried, afraid the attack ship had been destroyed in X48. The instant the vessel appeared on Midway’s scanners it told Compton the expedition had not been found…at least not before Wolverine had left the system.
His satisfaction was short-lived, though, and it died the instant he listened to the communique. Max Harmon wasn’t onboard…indeed, he was almost certainly dead. And Wolverine had only escaped because of Harmon’s desperate order for it to flee, to find the fleet and report that an enemy warship had attacked it in orbit around X48 II.
Compton felt a crush of personal pain, and he fought back a rush of emotion for his lost aide. Max Harmon had been more than a dedicated and capable officer, more even than a companion of many battles. The young captain had been the son Compton never had…and he felt grief threatening to take control of him. And he felt even more alone than he had ever since the fateful day he and his people had been trapped in First Imperium space.
But there was more than simply the loss of Harmon bearing down on Compton. If the First Imperium had found the operation on X48 II, the expedition had almost certainly been destroyed. And that meant Sophie was dead too…and Hieronymus and Ana, all of them. He had lost his friends, most of the people who had still mattered to him, at least on a personal level. Worse, from the perspective of the fleet’s chances of survival, there would be no food supplies, no new tech…and the research programs would grind to a halt without the fleet’s best scientists. It was almost too much to take, pain too great to deal with…so he submerged it, forged a great wall in his mind, pouring all his tremendous discipline into sealing off the horror.
“I want Wolverine’s full report immediately. And Commander Montcliff is to get his people in the tanks now, and crank up to 35g or better. He’s got to get that ship lined up with the fleet before we make the jump, and there isn’t a minute to waste.”
Cortez acknowledged, and he turned back to his workstation to transmit the orders. “Commander Montcliff’s report is at your station, sir. He advises he will have everyone in the tanks in five minutes.” A pause…then Cortez continued, his voice heavier with concern. “Sir, the commander reports they have battle damage from their encounter with the enemy. He is not certain the ship can sustain acceleration at that level.”
Compton sighed. “Understood…but the orders are confirmed. They are to make their best effort to match the fleet’s course and speed.”
Because if they can’t, I’m going to have to leave them behind to die.
He hated the thought of abandoning Wolverine’s crew, especially after they had barely escaped at X48, but he was too old a veteran to lie to himself now. He couldn’t let the First Imperium forces catch the fleet…and he couldn’t evacuate Wolverine either. There was no way any shuttle could launch from the fleet and match vector and veloci
ty with the fast attack ship, not unless she was able to blast her own thrusters and realign.
He felt a pang as he briefly imagined giving the order to abandon Montcliff and his people, but it quickly faded. He was already numb from all he’d just learned, those who had already been lost. He was thinking and acting like a machine now, analyzing everything based on probabilities and numbers.
“And, Commander…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Advise Captain Kato that he is to evacuate Newfoundland and abandon her. Then Osaka and Tokugawa are to increase thrust to 30g.” Kato’s ships were following the fleet, but Newfoundland had taken engine damage, and the best she could manage was 5g. Kato had kept his flotilla together, and held the crews of all his ships out of the tanks. But Compton had run the numbers twice. They weren’t going to make it, at least they weren’t going to catch up before the fleet transited. And if they fell behind, he doubted they would ever leave X51.
The First Imperium ships had too much thrust. Their antimatter reactors provided them power Compton could only dream of, and the lack of biologic crews eliminated the difficulties associated with high gee maneuvers. The enemy ships could blast away at 70g without the slightest degradation in combat efficiency. The fastest human ships maxed out below 40g, and to get anywhere close to that they had to drug their people almost senseless and seal them in the tanks.
Cortez looked back at Compton. “Are you sure, sir? The damage reports suggest that…”
“That Newfoundland is reparable. Yes, I know. The problem is, with those scragged engines we can’t get her out of here fast enough to go somewhere and do those repairs. And if we slow other ships to stay back with her, we’re going to lose them too. No, we’d just be betting the lives of her crew…and the rest of Kato’s people. He is to evacuate the crew and destroy the ship. Then I want his people in the tanks on their way to the X49 gate.”
