Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  There was a single gas giant in the system and it had a half dozen moons, including one nearly the size of Earth. At one time astronomers had thought there was a second planet, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. The bump in the star’s motion was because there was a bump in the gas giant’s motion, caused by the earth-sized moon.

  Other than the gas giant though, there was not nearly as much debris as could be expected within six astronomical units -- roughly the distance from the Earth to the sun -- of Epsilon Eridani. Not only that, the gas giant was in a highly inclined orbit -- that is, it varied from the orbital plane of the star quite a bit. Astrodynamic buffs thought that the gas giant was an interloper who’d come into the system early in its development and scooped up the largest proto-planetary core, but that capture had changed the interloper’s orbit so that it was captured by Epsilon Eridani.

  Epsilon Eridani was thought be less than a billion years old; whatever its age the moons of the gas giant were terribly battered and the earth-sized moon’s surface glowed in the dark from both heat from the magma ocean on its surface and radiation-generated heat in its core from decaying radioactive aluminum.

  The result was while the gas giant had moons and a ring system, Epsilon Eridani didn’t have a typical debris ring, as the gas giant had swept up anything it didn’t eject from the system close to the star. Further out the dust ring was quite dense, and it was clear that the gas giant and its moons were subject to a continuing intense bombardment.

  The department heads and their senior assistants, including Commander Tshombe, had been consulted, as had Johnny about what the best course of action should be.

  It was, for Johnny, a very uncomfortable thing. He was the junior officer at the staff meeting and he had to speak his opinion first. He didn’t really bother to think about it; to him the answer was obvious.

  “We should put the sensor sat in orbit around the gas giant; there are bound to be a number of suitable rocks well away from the planet. There’s nothing else of consequence in the system until you get out to about beyond seven or eight AUs. Drop the sensor sat, and then do as we’ve done before.”

  Commander Tshombe and every other officer who spoke after Johnny said that their orders told them that the sensor sat should go into orbit around the primary and that they should bow to the wishes of the staff back in Hawaii.

  Willow spoke next to last, saying that it had to be at the gas giant, agreeing with Johnny that there wasn’t anything else in the inner system the could realistically be used as a base. Why guard what wasn’t there to be guarded, when the proximity would give those on the outpost a tiny warning if trouble showed up on their door?

  The outpost commander wanted to put the outpost on the earth-like planet and promptly found herself relieved one second later. Admiral Travers was brisk as he cast the woman’s career into the furnace. “The ambient at that moon’s surface looks good, about 450 K, but that’s because there’s a magma ocean about seven meters below the surface. Further, you’d take about a rad a day from AL-26 decay, and two or three more rads from the radiation belts. It’s virtually certain the radiation belt location varies widely as the star isn’t that stable. Did I mention that this period in the Eridani’s evolution matches that of the ‘Late Heavy Bombardment’ on Earth? You can expect at least one ten kilometer rock impacting that moon every decade.

  “Clearly you haven’t read your briefing materials. In this situation, that is culpable misfeasance. You’ll go home and at least face a Board of Inquiry.”

  There were spares, of course, and one of them got the nod instead. The sensor sat would go into orbit a light minute from the gas giant, eighteen million kilometers distant.

  The first ship dropped the sensor sat, then left at once. Six hours later a second ship dropped, but stayed longer than before, so it could get a full data dump on the local bodies, hoping to find one far enough out from the gas giant to be safe from radiation and the worst of the rocks passing through the inner system.

  A day later Warlock dropped with a consort and set about emplacing the outpost. Again Johnny wasn’t invited to see them off and was glad of it. Instead, he was on the bridge, running navigation calculations on every rock that they could detect that looked like it might even possibly intersect with the outpost. It was, of course, a fruitless task; there millions of rocks and determining the orbits of them would take months or years, as ones further out from the star moved in their orbits. Still, the idea was to give the outpost at least a two-year window where they didn’t have to worry.

  Out of the blue, Willow spoke. “Action stations. No drill, hostile tracks detected.”

  Johnny’s eyes went at once to the sensor sat detectors and saw that six unknown ships were coming from further out, moving in the general direction of the gas giant on High Fan. He barely had time to blink and they were gone from the screen.

  The outpost had been placed on a rock that was significantly further out from the gas giant than the rocky planet the size of the Earth.

  “Commander Wolf,” Johnny said without hesitation. “They dropped from fan on the other side of the planet. They don’t know we can detect them on High Fan. They don’t know we know they’re there.”

  Willow bobbed her head, her eyes on the screens. Admiral Travers, his wife, and a dozen others thundered onto the bridge and assumed their positions.

  “Talk to me, Commander Wolf,” the admiral commanded as soon as the ship was ready.

  “There were six ships, sir. Lieutenant Montezuma believes, and I concur, that they don’t think we saw them and that they are now hiding on the other side of the planet.”

  “They’re not a threat there,” Admiral Travers said, musing aloud.

  “No, sir,” Willow told him. “Unless we do something really dumb -- or think we have no choice. I estimate we’ll see either twelve or eighteen more ships appear any second. This time they will be on low fan and appear at a light minute or so between us and in open space. They’ll be outside the fan limit. They hope to force us to flee around the planet, and into the arms of the first group of ships.”

  Admiral Travers looked at the screen.

  “Your recommendation?”

  “What I very much would like to see is two or more groups of six ships approaching from outside the fan limit, out of support range of each other. We would then send ourselves at one, Viking at the other group. If we can get within blue range, Admiral, it will be a very short battle. And if we can get outside the fan limit, it means they lose. Period.”

  One of the sensor officers spoke up, his voice audibly quavering. “Ships detected, three light minutes, coming off High Fan. They are outside of the fan well. Admiral, there are thirty-six of them in six groups of six, spread over the sky facing Earth.”

  Admiral Travers actually chortled. Johnny had heard the word described and defined; he’d never heard an actual chortle before. Once you’ve heard a real chortle, though, you’ll never forget it.

  “In case the math escapes some of you, the bad guys are coming at us in groups of six. We have eight blues. Say, there are about three quarters enough of them for us to raise a sweat. Commander Wolf, designate a strike order for Warlock and Viking.”

  He lifted his voice a bit and spoke to the captain of the Viking. “Captain Stone, prepare to receive engagement instructions from Commander Wolf.”

  “Roger that,” a voice spoke from a wall screen.

  “Engineering! Navigation! Mister Pilot! This is Admiral William Travis, commanding this formation! You will cede your control authority to Commander Wolf! Prepare for combat!”

  The problem with that, of course, is that two light minutes is 36 million kilometers and it takes a while on low fan to get there.

  The sensor officer reported a few moments later. “Sir, another formation of thirty-six alien ships just dropped from High Fan, slightly behind the first groups, but offset from them.”

  Johnny paused for a second, thinking about the ten poor souls on the ou
tpost. The odds were that in very short order, an elephant was going to trample them. It didn’t bear thinking about it.

  Willow Wolf suddenly said, “Hang tight!”

  Johnny had a hand on his console. He tightened his grip. The lights actually blinked on the bridge! The acceleration built quickly; three gravities, he thought. It was hard to hold himself in position, but he did.

  Willow’s voice was flat and cold. “Eight shots, six down, we’re cutting towards the group that no longer exists. Bill, Viking’s captain told me he didn’t recognize my authority to command his ship and tried to split their formations and fired on four ships in each group. Bill, they killed Viking.”

  Johnny swallowed. This was worse, far worse, than that bridge watchkeeping board's captain’s flat dismissal of one of those sitting the exam. That ensign had left on his own two feet and would have another shot in a year. Viking’s captain had killed himself and the three hundred and forty men and women of his crew -- while disobeying a direct order from his admiral.

  “Admiral, we’re firing counter-battery with lasers and missiles. The survivors didn’t fire a good spread; we got them all.” She paused. “And two minutes.”

  The bridge lights blinked again. “And now, Admiral, our sky is clear for the moment, and we’re five minutes from the fan limit.”

  The acceleration had, if anything grown. His seat reached out and gripped him firmly. The controlled voice in his head spoke, “Sorry, Lieutenant. Heavy acceleration warning. Ten seconds.”

  Johnny laughed. And this was what? Four gravities without so much as a safety= belt? Well, he had a belt now! Two minutes later, the bridge lights blinked again.

  Admiral Travers laughed. “I think we need to get that short fixed, Naomi. Take a note.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral. You never said -- am I your flag captain or just still your mistress?”

  “Oh, you know how much I like having you under me,” he jested. “But that’s something Fleet has to do. Consider yourself recommended.”

  There were gasps from around the room -- what chuckles sounded like at five gravities. Abruptly they went to High Fan, and almost at once were off Fan. At five gravities it was like having the entire defensive line of the Steelers hit you at once. The lights blinked.

  They went to High Fan again, and this time the pressure of acceleration eased and they didn’t drop back out.

  “Nantucket Sleigh Ride!” The chortle was back in the admiral’s voice.

  Johnny stared at the detectors. Twelve alien ships were chasing them. Suddenly, the navigator in him realized what Willow had done. The savage acceleration they’d experienced had been skew to the courses of the two alien formations. They had been closest to each other when Warlock had gone to High Fan -- now, each second, they drew further apart. Well, one of them did.

  They stayed on High Fan this time for two minutes before they dropped back into normal space. The closest six ships dropped within two light seconds and the bridge lights blinked. This time they accelerated for just a few seconds and went to High Fan again.

  Again the duration on High Fan was two minutes. Johnny watched the second group alien ships chasing them sail past them in normal space, too far apart for either side to shoot. The aliens stayed in normal space for a time, accelerated for three minutes at a little more than three gravities, before the alien ships went to High Fan once again intending to intercept Warlock. Except a second later, Warlock dropped from High Fan. The bridge lights dimmed again and another half dozen alien cruisers were expanding clouds of plasma when they returned to normal space to attack Warlock.

  “Admiral,” Willow said. “Two of the groups of six held back. I’m not sure what they’ve done, but perhaps one of them is a pocket carrier. They have launched a half dozen objects that are tracking us. I rate them likely manned, Admiral.”

  “A half dozen? Not a problem!”

  “Well, they’re running on High Fan, sir.” There was a pause before Willow spoke again. “This isn’t good.”

  Again, they were on High Fan, and stayed there for a minute, came off and were again under five gravities. Johnny fought to remain conscious. At least half of the bridge crew had succumbed to the acceleration and shock of the transitions. How Willow stood it while remaining unflappable, he had no idea. He couldn’t have stood and been able to do much more than scratch at that point.

  They went to High Fan again, and Johnny tried to see what it was she was watching. The answer was that the six traces following them went off High Fan, accelerated in the new direction and resumed High Fan.

  My God! he thought. Those are target-seeking, High Fan-capable missiles! Warlock came off High Fan, twisted painfully and accelerated again. The bridge lights blinked.

  Willow couldn’t hide the glee in her voice. “But six isn’t enough!”

  She spoke again as they went to High Fan. It was weird. Johnny would never have imagined High Fan being a respite for anything.

  “Admiral, the two remaining groups of six haven’t tried to close the gap between them. In a moment I’ll drop from High Fan and take a course back towards the moon. It’ll pass a light second from one of the groups. Say goodnight, Gracie!”

  The admiral was pale. “Whatever you say, Willow.”

  They came off High Fan again and it was just barely possible for Johnny to stay conscious. He couldn’t have moved to save his life.

  They were on High Fan again a few seconds later. Willow Wolf reported, even if she seemed about the only person aware enough to understand, “The last group of six appear to have broken off, Admiral, and are departing galactic north on High Fan. The ones behind the moon don’t appear to have moved. There are a lot of missiles flying around out here at the moment, but we’ve killed the six High Fan-capable homers. The outpost is still there.”

  Instead of just a few minutes, they spent nearly a half hour on High Fan, before returning to normal space. Johnny idly noted that they were galactic south of Epsilon, about seven and a half light days from the star system. Medical personnel appeared and started dealing with the worst of the injured.

  Still, Johnny was well enough to listen to the admiral and Willow talk. “We went thirty-six of sixty?” Admiral Travers asked. Johnny blinked. Thirty-six enemy ships destroyed? This was the largest victory to date for the Federation!

  “So far,” Willow told him. “I didn’t return to the meet point for our consorts because if the aliens are following behind us beyond the range of our detectors, the consorts would be in big trouble. What I’d like to do, sir, is return to that moon, and see if the six who thought we didn’t see them are still hiding.”

  “I wouldn’t be,” Admiral Travers said.

  The Exec shivered. “I’d have cut and run long ago. You are hell on wheels, girl!”

  “I know who suggested how to detect ships on High Fan, Admiral -- Bethany Booth,” Willow stated.

  The name was vaguely familiar to Johnny, but he couldn’t place it. What that had to do with this, he wasn’t sure. Then Willow told them.

  “She also wrote an enemy-intentions analysis paper where she posited that the aliens react worse than we do to fan transitions and they are out of it for more than two minutes afterwards, coming or going. I’d noticed that myself, but I couldn’t be sure if it was an artifact of the data. Still, I insisted that the blue reload time had to be less than two minutes. I think I have confirmed Bethany’s observation, Admiral, with transition times on both sides of two minutes. Those hunter-killers, though, could come and go without delay, so evidently it means it’s a physiological problem and not an engineering problem.”

  “And this has what to do with those waiting at the moon?” the admiral asked. “They’ve had a lot more than two minutes to recover.”

  “Sir, they are suckers for what is it called? The pump-fake? You look like you’re going one way, swerve and head at your target and they are helpless. We can head back to the outpost to make sure they’re okay, passing close to the planet. At the last secon
d -- well, we’ll be in easy blue range. They could still be hoping we don’t know they’re there and that they can sneak up on us and pounce.”

  Admiral Travers broke the word to the crew that they were going back into combat. There were a few stifled groans on the bridge, but there had been groans for some time by then.

  Commander Tshombe was in the sick bay, the next senior ranking navigator, besides Johnny, was an ensign. He knew Willow was plotting their course, but he did it himself anyway. The real risk was that they’d have to abort and continue on High Fan if they detected more enemies than they expected. Dropping from High Fan inside the fan well was asking for trouble.

  It turned out to be a simple task. The aliens were probably waiting for them to return to the outpost, so that they could kill them both at once. Instead, the shoe was on the other foot.

  After that, for the next three weeks the six remaining ships scoured the outer system for an alien base, but never found it. The seventh ship had headed back to Earth to report and alert the Fleet. When a dozen more cruisers arrived, Warlock headed for home.

  The most memorable thing about that journey, at least for Johnny, was that Willow finally got her oft-postponed grafts repaired and he did indeed get to hold her hand, both before and after the surgery.

  The most amusing thing was back at home. Willow was credited with destroying thirty-six alien ships, which, on top of her four previous, brought her up to forty. Fleet Aloft never had a chance to decide how they wanted to signify the number. Instead, the Fleet Marines handed Willow a special silver lozenge for her Death Star, with the number “40” on it -- with three leading zeros.

  311

  Starfarer’s Dream

  Chapter 15 -- New Cairo

  David Zinder tried to keep his face expressionless as the watch commander on duty aboard Ramses II tried to deal with someone David’s age trying to board the ship. Clearly the lieutenant was having difficulty accepting someone like David had orders like David had. All David could do was tell the woman that Commodore Cross had been alerted to his arrival and would be expecting him.