Dreadnought s-4

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  “If the Starwolves really are behind this, that would be looking for more trouble than I could handle,” Tarrel reminded him.

  “Yes, I know that,” Lake agreed. “Those are the chances we have to take. If this situation is as desperate as I suspect— as you seem to suspect — I would even be willing to make an alliance with the Starwolves against this new threat.”

  “The Sector Families are not going to like that.”

  “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “And they will have to accept certain restrictions upon their ambitions, to appease the Starwolves. But, if they want to stay in business, they will just have to accept it. I know how to sell the idea to them, so no trouble there. I’m speaking to you this candidly now, so that you will understand my own plans enough to act as my agent when you leave here. You might well find yourself in the role of diplomat, either with these new attackers or the Starwolves, and the alliances you make could save or destroy the Union. I want you to feel free to do whatever it takes.”

  “You could go with me,” Tarrel pointed out.

  “I wish I could. The fact is, I’m about to do the Union itself a dirty trick, and you have to help me. If I try to go, Councilor Debray will want to know why, and end up replacing me with a professional diplomat. That person will be under direct orders to guard the Union’s dignity and commercial interests at any cost, not realizing that the cost would be those very things they want to protect. There’s more going on here than you know. Things are a lot more serious.”

  “What do you mean?” Tarrel asked plainly.

  “No mention was made of this during the council — most of those idiots don’t even know yet — but there have been five known attacks just like the one you saw, most of them worse,” Lake explained. “You just happen to be the first witness to survive. That’s why I can say with great certainty that the Starwolves probably are not behind this. Someone is systematically destroying all traffic, all the stations, even the satellites, every piece of hardware we have in space, system by system. If Starwolves were resorting to such dire tactics, they would be trying to force us to surrender before they destroy our spaceflight capabilities completely. And under those circumstances, they would want us to know that they were the ones doing this to us.” Tarrel frowned. “I don’t believe that you were going to tell me all this at first.”

  “I’m not supposed to. I just don’t see how you can do what I need for you to accomplish without knowing it. So, will you take the job?”

  Captain Tarrel looked profoundly surprised. “Oh, I suppose I just didn’t understand. I didn’t know that I had any options. I thought that this was an order. You know, the things that you senior officers tell underlings to do and you expect done no matter what.”

  “I know about orders. I just want to know that you are devoted to this mission. ”

  “And what if I say that I don’t want to volunteer?” she asked, but Lake was not inclined to humor her. She hurried on, “I’ll do it, of course. And you can trust me to do my best. That’s the only way to bring myself and my crew out of this alive.”

  “I’ll have your drones standing by within the next twelve hours. I’ve already sent crews aboard your ship to repair her damage and make some necessary modifications. Is there anything special you expect to need?”

  “Can I get Carthaginian painted before we go out?” “You’re likely to need it more when you get back.”

  “Then paint it again,” Tarrel insisted. “I don’t want to present my ship to Starwolves looking like a tramp.”

  Lake considered that briefly. “All right, you get your paint.

  Who knows what might impress Starwolves? They eat prodigiously, and they seem to like furry little animals and other cute things. People who have talked to them say that they are never what you would expect, that they can be intelligent, gentle and in many ways rather innocent. Other than that, I really don’t know what I can tell you.”

  “I’m really not worried about the Starwolves, as long as I can get their attention before they scorch my ship. It’s the things I can’t see that worry me more.”

  Captain Tarrel returned to her ship a couple of hours later, having argued with the refitting crew about the installation of external missile racks on Carthaginian’s hull. Getting that had taken some persuasion on her part, since the battleship already carried four dozen missiles in internal bays, and also because the crew chief had been reluctant to give additional ordnance to a ship on a diplomatic mission, and possibly also from reluctance to give weapons to a ship that was likely doomed anyway. But Tarrel wanted weapons that she could use without betraying her intentions by opening bays or powering up a system. Any trick that she might have up her sleeve would be a great help, considering the disadvantage she was at already.

  She found that her crew had shrunk considerably in one respect, and grown somewhat in others. She found herself with only three complete bridge crews, a basic maintenance crew and a handful of other necessary specialists. Lake, forever frugal, had left her with just enough to keep her ship running while risking the fewest lives possible. Her crew had expanded by one, a rather clever but harmless-looking young man, wearing the insignias of an executive officer, whom she found sitting in her chair. Since she already had a second-in-command, the rank of executive officer could mean just about anything from mission commander to special advisor or observer. She decided that he was going to be an observer, and he had better not observe anything from her chair ever again.

  “And just who are you?” she asked sharply as she checked the progress reports on the ship’s refitting.

  “Lieutenant Commander Walter Pesca, reporting as ordered,” he responded briskly, affording her a very snappy salute.

  Oh, the bright and eager type. “Why are you on board my ship, Mister?”

  “I was recommended as an advisor. I’m an alien contact specialist with extensive training in linguistics. If you find new aliens, I’m supposed to learn how to talk to them and try to guess whether they are telling the truth. If we end up talking to Starwolves, I’m supposed to try to figure out their language so that we can eavesdrop on them. Sector Commander Lake thought that you might find me useful.”

  “You might be useful,” she agreed guardedly, “but you are not a command officer. And only command officers can sit in my chair.”

  “I won’t forget, Captain.”

  “Since you were sitting in my chair, do you know what happened to my first officer?” Tarrel asked.

  “Right behind you, Captain,” Chagin said, coming up behind her at that moment. “I was just down checking the installation of the missile racks you wanted.”

  “You know, those missile racks are not really a very good idea,” Pesca remarked brightly, pleased to be helpful.

  Tarrel glanced at him. “I found this person in my chair.” Pesca looked very nervous. “There didn’t seem to be a senior officer on the bridge.”

  “There doesn’t have to be a senior officer on the bridge when the ship is secure at station,” she told him. “And like I said, you’re not a command officer anyway. Have you ever been on board a ship before?”

  “Yes, of course!” he insisted in injured tones. “I’ve traveled on the couriers many times.”

  “Couriers? That’s like tourist class,” Tarrel exclaimed. “Did Commander Lake choose you for this mission personally?” “Yes, I believe so.”

  Tarrel shook her head slowly. “You know, I’ve just become aware of a plot to assassinate the Sector Commander. Assuming that I survive to come back for him. Chagin, has anyone sent down word about where they expect us to find this monstrosity?” “Captain, that information was given to me to relay to you,” Pesca offered hopefully, seeming more sure of himself once he was discussing business. “The Dreadnought has been following a predictable path along projected patterns that have been shunted down to your computers. Given the anticipated travel time for the convoy, we should be able to intercept the Dreadnought in the Standon System in eight days. Orders h
ave already been relayed ahead to have the local traffic cleared and the station abandoned.”

  “Dreadnought?” Tarrel asked.

  “It’s a very old word for the largest class of battleship.” “Yes, I know that. It just seems to suggest a very great certainty that the Starwolves are not behind this.”

  “That does seem to be the suspicion, although I suppose that you know more about that than I do,” Pesca said. “The term Dreadnought is one that is not used for any of our ships and it also differentiates this ship from the known Starwolf carriers. Assuming, of course, that it isn’t a modified carrier.”

  “That’s what they’re paying us to find out,” Tarrel commented. “Find yourself a cabin near the bridge where I can find you in a hurry.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Pesca said, and withdrew.

  “Well, what do you think of Wally?” she asked.

  “He seems competent enough, once his brain comes on-line,” Chagin remarked dubiously. “They have to paint portions of the hull before they can hang all the missile racks, but everything should be done in time.”

  “Good. I want those missiles rigged to fire without going through the main weapons computer or targeting scanners. We should be able to do that ourselves without upsetting the station crews.”

  “They find us strange enough already over the missile racks,” he agreed.

  “Good. Then tell them that I want every drone in the convoy rigged to explode from full generator overload on a signal from here.”

  Chagin looked vaguely impressed. “Would that really destroy this thing?”

  “No, I doubt that,” Tarrel said. “I was just thinking about something. When I was very young, I believed that little monsters danced in my room at night. I thought that if I could turn on the light quickly enough, then I might catch them by surprise before they could hide. I was thinking about doing something like that with our Dreadnought.”

  Chagin had to think about that for a moment before he realized what she had in mind.

  2

  Carthaginian led the convoy into the system, dropping abruptly out of starflight well out on the fringes and maintaining nearlight speed as they hurtled directly in. This was, as far as anyone could know, the best guess of where they could expect to find the Dreadnought. The Standon system, their original destination, had already been attacked while the convoy was in flight. The small commercial station and base for the System Fleet was gone, although every ship that could move or be moved had fled. They found this system in much the same condition, indicating that the mysterious enemy ship had been here, too. They could not know yet whether it had gone on again, seeking other prey.

  In spite of the best efforts of the computer grid to maintain the convoy in perfect formation, the ships running in that widely spaced configuration were of various sizes, types and stages of disrepair. Some were so decrepit that their engines and generators surged and faded, some constantly and others at unpredictable intervals. As far as Captain Tarrel was concerned, that was just as well. The Dreadnought appeared to respond to high-energy emissions, and this sad lot was making all manner of tempting noise.

  “Disperse the convoy to wide formation,” she ordered as soon as the group of ships had settled in from their transition from starflight. “Arm all self-destructs except our own. Wally, stand by with your communication.”

  Lt. Commander Pesca had learned to bear his nickname with good grace, assuming it to be a compliment or term of affection.

  He remained blissfully unaware that the Captain simply found it difficult to afford him the dignity of a military title.

  “Communication standing by,” he responded. “Do you still wish to send on the light-speed bands as well?”

  “Let’s not leave any stones unturned,” Tarrel answered. “Broadcast your communication now.”

  Pesca had put together a rather competent first-contact communication, repeated in every major language he knew, including some that were entirely mathematical in nature and transmitted on both achronic and standard radio bands, as many as the ship could handle. They did not expect an actual dialogue with the Dreadnought, but any response might give them a fix on its location and possibly reveal something about its nature. At least they would know where to look.

  “We already have a response,” Pesca announced only a few seconds after the transition began. “One brief message on a single achronic band. Less powerful than a Starwolf achronic carrier, but more distinct.”

  “What about the message?” Tarrel asked impatiently.

  “The computer can’t identify anything familiar about it.” “Any guesses?”

  Pesca considered that briefly. “It is a machine code and very brief. I suspect that we have just been hailed with a recognition code. If we respond properly, we get to talk. If not, we get blown away. That suggests to me that the Dreadnought is entirely machine-driven.”

  “Clever boy,” Tarrel remarked to herself, thinking that Wally might just win back his rank at this rate. “Do you have a direction on that signal?”

  “I’m putting it up on the navigational grid now, Captain.” Tarrel glanced at the navigational monitor, a large screen between the helm and navigator’s stations just before her. To her alarm, the source Of that signal was nearly directly behind and slightly above their own flight path. It was probably moving in to intercept. Carthaginian was following the convoy. At this point, they were the most tempting target.

  “Move us quickly up through the convoy until we are leading,” she ordered frantically. “I want a safe lead on those ships as quickly as we can get it. Stand by the self-destructs.”

  “We can’t detonate those ships while we’re anywhere within the convoy,” Chagin reminded her.

  “Yes, I know that. I just hope that we can get through before that thing takes out too many of our ships.”

  She did not add that, with the Carthaginian accelerating quickly through the convoy, her powerful main drives would be giving out some very appealing emissions. She considered the risk to be worthwhile. Indeed, they were almost through the convoy before the first of the ships suddenly exploded.

  “Are we clear?” she asked.

  “Give me thirty seconds more and we should be able to ride out the shock wave without damage,” Chagin reported.

  “Make that forty seconds more,” the surveillance officer added. “We might not get a reading if we’re too close, and we need the lead time to make a good identification.”

  “I’ll give you every second I can. Just stand ready.”

  A second ship was taken out before the minimum time to safely detonate the convoy. Captain Tarrel counted the seconds to herself, but the loss of a third ship just short of the surveillance officer’s mark convinced her that it was time to go. The delay in executing the order would take care of the rest, with some to spare. If she lost too many ships, the plan would not work.

  Every ship in the convoy exploded its generators from a forced overload at the same moment, the combined blast enough to destroy a planet but spread over a fairly large area of space. And the leading edge of that blast was coming right up Carthaginian’s tail. Fortunately the battleship was already traveling nearly fast enough to outrun even the flash, and she had begun moving to the very edge of transition threshold since the order to detonate. She needed every second she could get to stay ahead of the shock wave, which would be just as deadly to her systems as the Dreadnought’s high-energy weapon unless it had some time to dissipate.

  “I have it!” the surveillance officer announced. “Positive contact!”

  “Blessed be!” Tarrel declared. “Take us on into transition. We might be lucky enough to avoid the shock wave completely. ”

  As soon as Carthaginian was safely into starflight, she joined Chagin and Pesca at the surveillance station for a look at what the scanner had been able to detect. Even Carthaginian’s most accurate and powerful active scanners had been unable to identify any trace of the Dreadnought. But the explosion of the convoy
and the tremendous energy involved had acted like a powerful flash or strobe, briefly illuminating the mysterious ship, and the passive scanners had been aimed past the flash to capture the reflection from the Dreadnought. The information collected had not amounted to much, the most intriguing item being the visual representation of achronic scattering of tachyons emitted by the blast. To their frustration, all it showed was a featureless gray cylinder with rounded ends.

  “Is that the ship?” Pesca asked.

  Chagin shook his head. “That’s just the reflection from her hull shields, if I had to guess. I don’t like guessing anything about the monster, but I have seen that often enough to be certain.”

  “That’s it,” the surveillance officer agreed.

  “Do we have a size on that?” Tarrel asked.

  “I can give accuracy to within ten percent. We have a length of twelve kilometers by just under three across. No indication of just how large the ship inside that shield might be, unfortunately. The Dreadnought’s visual and electronic invisibility is probably some function of the shield, which must be extremely powerful. Otherwise we should have had some reflection from the ship itself.”

  “Perhaps five times the length of a Starwolf carrier, but wider and much thicker,” Chagin mused. “Probably several times the mass.”

  “I really don’t believe that it could be Starwolves,” Tarrel said. “Well, we know a lot more than we did, but not enough.”

  “What do you think, Captain?” Pesca asked.

  “We obviously can’t handle this ourselves. Let’s get our information to a courier, and then we’ll go find ourselves a Starwolf. ”

  The first problem in finding a Starwolf was knowing just where to look. The Union knew only that there was at least one carrier to every sector, and that each carrier ran a regular patrol through that sector. The actual course of that patrol varied according to need, and the patrol changed regularly so that the presence or absence of a carrier could not be anticipated. There had always been some suspicion that the Starwolves employed drones or reconnaissance flights of smaller ships, and that they kept surveillance devices in some of the more important systems, but that had never been proven. All that could be said for certain was that the Starwolves were well aware of just about everything that went on in Union space, while their own habits remained very obscure and their comings and goings were largely unpredictable.