Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Until further notice,” Commander Hoyt snapped angrily. The lieutenant grimaced and closed the circuit.

  “Just remember, we were ensigns once,” Bill Travers reminded him gently. “Not knowing and having to wait is hard enough when you’ve some experience. It’s hell when you have none.” That really meant that none of them was comfortable with their exposure, not even commanders and captains.

  Five hours. Everyone was looking at the clocks. Five and a half hours. Time slowed to less than a crawl. “Ship detected, coming off fans!” Sensors reported.

  Captain Travers checked the mission timer. Five hours, and fifty-one minutes. Close indeed!

  The sensor tech looked up Captain Travers. “Sir, the ship emerged at slightly over one light minute. They need a new navigator over there!”

  That was not only sloppy, but damn sloppy!

  The clock spun, and the screen lit with Commander Lestonte. “Waiting for Commander Dampier to join the link,” the frigate commander said without preamble.

  The man was, Captain Travers thought, ashen and shaken. Bill flashed a high sign to Jake, who nodded. Captain Travers had his finger poised on the console, two key-taps away from the High Fan transition. Less than a second.

  “Report, Commander Lestonte,” Commander Hoyt ordered.

  “Sir, with respect, when Commander Dampier is on the link. I only want to do this once.”

  A second later the screen cleared and the other frigate commander appeared.

  Commander Lestonte drew himself up and spoke in a dull, but formal voice, “The Agincourt system has been destroyed. When we arrived in the inner system, we were unable to detect any normal traffic. There were no ships detectable, nor any active emitters in the inner system. We broadcast broadband for ten minutes, and then moved closer to Agincourt. Even at several light minutes, it was obvious that the planet was -- damaged.”

  Earth-like planets are blue and green, flecked with white clouds and icecaps, with some tans and browns thrown in. Oceans and trees, clouds and hills. The picture that appeared on the screen now was gray-flecked with fiery red welts; like a pizza with seriously diseased pepperoni.

  “Agincourt appears to have received a saturation bombardment with nuclear weapons substantially larger than Fleet standard weapons,” Commander Lestonte said, his voice unnaturally flat.

  Someone on his bridge was crying, Bill thought. Someone that is, besides himself. Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the horror on the screen. He’d had plenty of time to study the system on the trip -- there had been two hundred million people there. And just as clearly, that no longer held true.

  Commander Lestonte went on, “I ordered a closer approach; in retrospect that was a mistake. There was no possibility of survivors. Confirming it has had a dreadful impact on my crew. My navigator killed herself right in front of me; she bit her tongue off and drowned in her own blood before we realized she’d done it. Two others are dead as well.”

  There were more pictures, taken from closer. One of the crew members was ill on the bridge of the Dream, and none of them were rational. Nearly two hundred million people! Gone! Most terribly, horribly gone!

  “I broke off the approach. I tried the listed habitats, orbital factories and the like. Everything we know about had been hit; actually, unless the object was substantial, we were unable to detect it. No orbital habitats remain; the two known asteroid mining operations show no trace, the gas giant fueling stations were also undetectable. Everything is gone.

  “Fifteen minutes before we were scheduled to depart, we were hit by a laser link, purporting to come from a tug that had been in transit between asteroids. They were transmitting in response to my original signal.” He looked at them, his eyes haunted. He visibly swallowed.

  “I determined that the Agincourt system had been attacked by unknowns, probably alien. That it would be reasonable to leave one or more ships behind to troll for latecomers and that was what we were listening to. I then gave the order to return to the formation, without responding to the hail.”

  He wiped his hands across his eyes. “My assistant navigator was rattled -- he thought I meant a course to the nav point; which was the last course the navigator had been working on before she died. I realized the mistake an instant before we went to High Fan and attempted to correct.” His smile was bleak. “By rights, we should be half way to Andromeda.”

  Attempting to correct a fan transition on the fly? As much chance of ending up space gas as going to Andromeda!

  Bill Travers looked at Commander Hoyt, who was obviously wrestling with the inscrutable. Captain Travers tapped a few keys, before looking up at Commander Hoyt who was still thinking. Captain Travers remained silent, but tapped more keys.

  “Paul Revere would seem to be in order, Commander Hoyt,” Captain Travers suggested finally, breaking the silence.

  Commander Hoyt nodded slowly. “It would seem so; I don’t see any alternative.” He turned to the other captains, “Have your people begin calculating a course for Gandalf.”

  “No,” Bill Travers said firmly. “One of us, certainly, but not all of us. Certainly not all of us.”

  “The closest Class II base is on Gandalf,” Commander Hoyt said, a little petulantly. “We must report this at once!”

  “Paul Revere, Commander. Each ship takes its own course. The computer will have a list, staged by priority depending on the Paul Revere option we choose.”

  “I can’t split the formation at your behest, Captain! No matter what! Those are my orders.”

  “Paul Revere, Commander, has a higher priority than your orders. It has a higher priority than my orders. I am willing to surrender operational control of Starfarer’s Dream to you, sir, so long as we are properly operating under the Paul Revere command set,” Captain Travers stated firmly.

  Commander Hoyt shook his head. “I was told that no matter what, under no circumstance, was I to allow the formation to be split except as I authorize! I was told that any suggestion to do so, from you or any member of your crew, is a reportable offense.”

  Bill Travers waved down towards the star that Agincourt circled. “That order did not take into account nearly two hundred million dead, Commander. Commander, we have a higher duty: to warn as many people as possible, as quickly as possible. We have to warn Earth. One ship, fast path to Earth; one to stop at the nearest Class II base, and then not stopping closer than half way home and not many times after that. Another ship tasked to local warnings. Sir, those are Fleet standard orders for Paul Revere. And they have a far higher priority than any weapons and logistics shipment.”

  “I have my orders, Captain Travers. I am placing you on report, sir, for suggesting breaking the formation.”

  Captain Travers saw stunned disbelief on Commander Lestonte’s face, incredulity on Commander Dampier’s.

  “Before anyone says anything further -- something that might be regretted later, please listen for a moment.” Captain Travers turned slightly, meeting his wife’s eyes. Naomi wasn’t going to be happy about this -- but what could he do?

  “Fleet command override. Authorization X-Ray Delta One Nine, Victor Poppa India Mike. William Travers. Day code is One Seven Golf.

  “Paul Revere, authorization Bravo Whiskey Juliet, Golf Tango Romeo. Day code is Fox Two.”

  The computer’s voice spoke a moment later. “Fleet command overrides accepted. Captain Travers, William H., recalled to active duty, Fleet Rank of Captain, date of rank 12-3-35. Captain Travers, William H. is appointed command, Fleet Group Golf Sixty-two, vessel Charlie One. Paul Revere command set accepted. For Paul Revere command set, designate Sierra One, Sierra Two and Sierra Three. Sierra Three is the return to Fleet World and then Earth, and the recommendation of this AI is that the ship should be Starfarer’s Dream; Sierra Two is the local area warning vessel and Sierra One is tasked to the nearest Class II base at Gandalf and then other Class II bases on a route to Earth.”

  Bill Travers spoke to the computer, ignor
ing everyone else. “Sierra Three is Fleet Ship Sword Bearer to Fleet World and then Earth. Execute.

  “Sierra Two is Fleet Ship Sword Dancer, local warning pattern. Execute.”

  He hesitated and then finished with, “Sierra One is Fleet auxiliary vessel Starfarer’s Dream. Gandalf, Tannenbaum, New Helgoland and Earth.”

  Travers nodded to the two ship commanders on the screens. “Gentlemen, I wish you good luck and God speed! For Heaven’s sake, watch your heinies!”

  Both frigate captains saluted formally, then the screens went blank. Under the covers, Starfarer’s Dream’s AI had been sending coded signals to the computers of the other vessels and those vessels now were going to High Fan according to pre-set courses.

  Military planning had grown more and more sophisticated as technology progressed. Computers, particularly the half-aware computers used by the Federation, were able to do things that military planners in earlier eras could only dream of.

  A ship’s computer kept track of the ship’s current location, all sensor data, and any other data inputs. One standard option was to compute courses to all known Federation systems. There were, literally, thousands of pre-packaged plans that the computers chewed on, decided what had to be done, given the current location and allocation of forces, and choosing courses of prospective action, depending on a scenario. Most of these options were available only if you asked and only if the user had access.

  However, in the certain knowledge that no computer would ever successfully predict the weather for tomorrow except by accident, planners had built in large number of “worst case scenarios.” Paul Revere was the single, worst case scenario of all.

  “Commander Hoyt.” The Fleet officer, still nearly frozen in a mixture of rage and shock, looked at Bill when he was spoken to.

  “I am logging this as my assuming my original rank, and then superseding you. Think carefully, Commander, on anything you might say or officially report about this. You have not been relieved, Commander -- merely superseded. That is a legitimate action of a senior officer in a situation where a junior has nominal command, but an available senior with due authority steps in to handle an emergency.”

  Commander Hoyt looked enormously unhappy, as well he might: being relieved was beyond bad, being superseded, even if it was for “being in over your head,” was only marginally more palatable.

  Captain Travers contemplated this and that for a long minute; everyone’s eyes were on him. “Commander Hoyt, as I said before, I will surrender opcon of Dream to you, so long as you follow the Paul Revere command set. You are still in command of the Marines, in any case.

  “Dream, evaluate the in-system contact. Was that hostile?”

  The ship’s AI came back immediately. “If the contact had been a hostile warship Sword Bearer would have been ambushed and destroyed. Almost certainly we would have come under attack. A stay-behind’s intent would be to stop a warning from being passed; certainly the stay-behind would have been outside the fan limit. Since no attacks were made, since the contact was from inside the fan limit, the contact is virtually certain to be survivors.”

  The captain nodded, still trying to think the matter through. “Commander Hoyt, I ask your prior consideration of a deviation from the Paul Revere command set. To wit, I wish to take Starfarer’s Dream to fifteen light minutes of Agincourt and then launch our pinnace in an attempt to contact, and then rescue, the possible survivors.”

  “The risk is unacceptable!” Commander Hoyt gargled.

  “Quite. On the other hand, leaving people behind in a situation like this is unthinkable. We will exercise due caution. We’ll approach the inner system, drop the pinnace, and then immediately transition to High Fan, headed elsewhere. We’ll crisscross the system every five or six minutes. If anything drops from fans close to us, we’ll bug out. I will not allow Dream to be captured, no matter what.”

  The two sets of eyes locked and held. “Captain, you have my permission to follow your plan. It is essential that we do not risk the ship.”

  “Quite,” Jake repeated from a few feet away, mocking his captain.

  “Count on it,” Naomi added. “And I myself will have a few words for my husband on the subject of the importance of full and complete crew briefs in regards to mission planning.”

  Bill Travers shrugged, hating what he had to say next. “Commander Hoyt, I asked for your opinion, not your permission.”

  Hoyt blinked and then looked away. “That, too.”

  It took nearly three nerve-racking hours. They dropped the pinnace, with Naomi and two Marines aboard. More than an hour later Naomi reported, confirming that they had found survivors. There followed another hour of maneuvering so that they would be close to the right vector, then a final, committed vector, followed by ten minutes as they maneuvered to close with the pinnace.

  Finally they went to High Fan for their first Paul Revere destination, the Fleet Base at Gandalf, four days away.

  Captain Travers was on hand when the pinnace docked. He already knew the cargo it carried: a man, a woman and their two daughters.

  He greeted the master of the ship, “Captain Wolf, welcome aboard. I’m Bill Travers, Captain of the Starfarer’s Dream.”

  “I’m Joachim Wolf; this is my wife Alma, my daughters Wilhelmina and Dee Dee. We cannot begin to express our gratitude for what you have done, for what you have risked to rescue us.”

  “Captain Wolf, I understand. Now, I have to return to the bridge; we need to get out of here.”

  “I understand, Captain Travers. Willow,” Joachim waved at his oldest daughter who produced an HDD case and handed it to Captain Travers. “My daughter, Captain, produced a data disk of our observations during the attack. You should review it at the earliest possible moment.”

  Bill took the disk. “I promise, Captain Wolf, that I will. Now let my Exec and some of our Marines help you to your quarters. We will talk later, I promise.”

  83

  Starfarer’s Dream

  Chapter 5 -- New Texas

  Ten days after the accident Terry sat down on his bunk after one of his physical therapy sessions trying to let the weariness seep out of his body. Larry was the only other of his roommates in the compartment. Larry, as Terry had seen him every other time, was lying on his bunk, his comp in hand. Larry looked up and gestured at one of the bunks. “Candace was beached -- she was relieved for cause; you can change bunks if you want.”

  “No thanks,” Terry said simply. The other simply nodded and turned back to his comp.

  Much later Rosa came in, passed through without a word and went in the shower; later she came out, sitting wearily on her bunk as well. She’d nodded to Terry on her first passage through, now she looked at him. “You were a good influence; they took all of the pax and gave us clean-up assignments. At least I’m keeping my hands dirty. It’s a challenge.”

  Terry didn’t have a clue what to say -- so, as usual, he opted for saying nothing. That night he slept better than he’d had since the accident. For a change he didn’t dream at all. In the morning he was first into the shower.

  He grinned as the water sluiced over his body. The last time he’d skipped showers like he’d done this week was when he was six. His mother had readjusted his attitude very quickly. Sponge baths weren’t nearly the same thing as a tepid shower; warm being more than his more sensitive-than-ever hands could take.

  He was rinsing off when Rosa appeared, handing him his phone, while he stood under the still running shower head. “Terry, it’s Chief Douglas.”

  Surprised, he took it.

  “Lieutenant Morrison, this is Chief Douglas. Report to the bridge, forthwith.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Terry responded automatically.

  Terry handed the phone back to Rosa and didn’t bother with a towel, just his shipsuit, which he fastened as he went through the compartment. Outside, he found he had enough wind to hustle. Forthwith was the word used when you were to report earlier today, if not yesterday.


  Terry had nearly reached the bridge when the Guam’s intercom popped. “This is the Captain! All hands to maneuver stations! Prepare to depart orbit! This is not a drill! This is not a drill! Now set the maneuver watch!”

  Terry arrived a few moments ahead of others; everyone, including him, charging. Chief Douglas flagged him down. “You will, Lieutenant, report to Engineering Alternate. There you will take command of our still very sick nuclear genie. Oh, and you are now Guam’s Fourth Engineer -- Captain Gong logged it a few moments ago. We need to get the reactor up and running ASAP.” He saluted formally and Terry returned it.

  Then, regardless of anything else, Terry hustled for the alternate command center for Engineering.

  Bring the power plant up? It needed a rebuild! It hadn’t blown up, but a whole lot of the systems had been stressed to the max and beyond. He’d looked at the engineering reports: the CE was right; there was nothing critically wrong with their reactor. But gosh! Starting it up without a complete overhaul was a huge risk!

  A dozen enlisted technicians crowded Engineering Alternate plus another engineering lieutenant was present as well, someone that Terry hadn’t seen before.

  The other lieutenant was the Second Engineer and he had overall charge of the alternate command center. He simply waved at the power board and Terry changed direction without words.

  Master Chief Harrison, the senior engineering petty officer, looked up from the power plant board as Terry moved to stand to one side. “I’ve started the prelims, Lieutenant.” Terry quickly reviewed what he’d done.

  The PA went off again and again it was Captain Gong. “The cruiser Kosovo dropped from High Fan sixteen minutes ago. They report that Gandalf was attacked by unknowns, thought to be alien.” Silence filled the compartment. “There is no palatable way to say this. Four Fleet ships fought their way off planet; there were nearly a hundred attacking ships. The surviving Fleet ships did what they could and then they fled. Gandalf was destroyed by massive bombardment by heavy thermonuclear weapons.