by Rob Buckman
“I don’t care! We lost all of our new fighters and experimental combat ships when the base was destroyed, that’s what I care about!”
The Admiral blanched, seeing foam collected at the corner of the Prince’s mouth as he screamed, and his eye wild. There was no reasoning with him. The Prince was passed that. The two black uniformed men behind his chair leaned forward slightly, expectantly, waiting for the Prince’s command.
“You are a fool, Admiral, a liar and a coward to boot!” He snarled, his lips curling back. “Kill him, and make it painful.” With a snap of his finger the two men behind the Admiral quickly grabbed the pleading man. The two behind the Prince’s chair, walked around the desk cheeks twisting into a grimace as they pulled the knives out of their sleeves. Their blue eye became pinpoint, and madness lurked behind them.
“Get that piece of shit out of here!” The Prince yelled, “And find the other senior officer in that fleet and dispose of them as well.” The Admiral screamed as they dragged him out of the room, a wet spot spreading around his crotch, and seeing it the Prince giggled.
He walked the short distance between the interrogation and the conference room feeling somewhat better, now he’d disposed of what he perceived the author of the destruction of his Star base. He shook his head slightly, wondering at the audacity of the man to claim an invisible Battleship had slipped into and out of the Empire’s territory. Two ever present, black clad guards walked soft footedly behind him, ever vigilant. Ever ready to do their Master's bidding, not matter what he asked.
“Good day, gentlemen. How are we today?” It was a rhetorical question, as no matter what kind of day it was for them, when the Prince asked, it was a great day. He sat at the end of the long conference table and carefully adjusted the lace cuffs of his shirt, fluffing them over the Royal blue velvet jacket cuffs.
“Shall we begin?” He looked around the table, seeing the bright smiling face of his Admirals and Generals.
“Yes, your Highness. By all means. What would you like to discuss first?” His uncle, Admiral of the Red Sir Frances Clement asked for all of them. Even he felt a little nervous around his nephew, protected by family and blood, but there was no telling what the little twit would do next.
“How is the salvage of our lost warships proceeding.”
“We have recovered 83.6% of both ships, your Majesty, and a third of their crews.”
“I don’t give a damn about their smelly crews, how much of the Ag material have you recovered?” He snarled.
“Most of it, sir.”
“What it most, you sniveling idiot?”
“Half, sir.”
“Then that’s not most of it, is it, you fool.”
“That was my last report, your Majesty, and I expect by this time they will have recovered even more.” The Prince recovered himself, and let it pass.
“Very well, have them return the moment they have recovered as many of the Ag plates as they can.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“I want that material to the building yards as soon as possible. With Star base three out of commission, our ship construction schedule is falling behind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How’s our purchasing of cargo ship coming?” He asked another, the first breathing a soft sigh of relief that he was out of the line of fire.
“Not good, your Majesty. It is getting steadily harder and harder to buy ships now.”
“I see. Would increasing our purchase price help?”
“Only a little, sir. We’ve picked up all the old freighters and immigrant ship on the market, so that only leave us the newer ship.” It was an honest, straightforward answer, with no apologies in it, something the Prince liked, on occasions. This was one of them.
“Crashed ship?”
“We have all that we can find within our scope of influence, or just outside it.” The Prince nodded.
“I think it’s time that we started impounding ships, for safety reason?” He looked around the table.
“I suggest we tread softly around some of the ships, your grace.”
“How so?”
“The Voss for one would react if we impounded one of their ships.”
“What about those so-called Avalon Free Traders, they have a lot of Ag material aboard one of those ships.”
“True, sir, but the cost of capturing one would be prohibitive. We did lose one Heavy Cruiser, and two other badly damaged the last time we tried to interfere with their passage.”
“Yes, I know,” a look of distaste crossed his pale face, and he took his monocle out and tapped it on the table top, a sure sign of displeasure, "but in port?”
“Possibly, sir, if we want to suffer the consequences.”
“What consequences? It’s not as if Avalon has a Navy worth speaking of.”
“No, your Highness, but, we do rely on them for much needed non-military items.”
“True.” He looked pensive, as if weighing the pros and cons of capturing a Free Trader ship.
“I might add, your Majesty, that we’d probably only get one ship, possibly two at the most. They’d broadcast that damn death signal of theirs the moment we boarded them.”
“Damn it! Haven’t we found a way to jam that yet?”
“No, your Highness, not with present tachyon technology.” That was a two edged sword. On one hand, it meant instant communication across the vast reaches of space. On the other, like the old Morse code, wireless signal, it could be picked up by anyone, and was in the case of a Free Trader death knell. The moment one of their ships was captured or destroyed, every Free Trader knew it, and the ‘where’ and the ‘who’.
“So,” he said at last, “let’s concentrate on other vessels. I have to have the Ag material for the fleet!” He tapped the table sharply with his monocle, seeing more than one of the men and at the table flinch. His eye swiveled to an older man on his right. “Unless R&D has something to contribute?”
“No, no your Highness. We lost a second lab trying to learn how it’s made.” He gulped carefully.
“And no progress on producing our own, I take it?”
“No, sir.” He said it softly, as if it might help. Sweat beaded his upper lips. The Prince turned towards a pale featured man, with what looked like a dead mouse under his nose.
“And our operative in Earth?” He started to ask, seeing the man shake his head before he’d even completed his question.
“We managed to penetrate just about all levels of Earth’s Government and Military establishments, but to date we just haven’t been able to get anyone inside the main complex at Gravatronics corporate headquarters where the vault is.”
“Then put more pressure on that fool of a representative!”
“We did, sir, but he has no authority to get inside that complex, only the crown.”
It was a sore point with the Prince that after all their carefully laid plans to infiltrate Earth’s Government infrastructure, the one place he wanted to get into, he couldn’t. Gravatronics was off limits to everyone, including most of the Royal family for that matter. His intelligence teams spent vast amounts of money bribing people to learn the secret of Ag to no avail. The one person whom they knew had the secret was out of their reach, Captain Enright, as he was dead and buried. Who knew the secret now, no one knew, and even torture hadn’t helped them get a step closer to the secret. It was as if no one knew the secret any more yet Gravatronics kept churning out massive amounts of Ag plates of all shapes and sizes imaginable. The plant ran night and day, twenty-four hour, seven days a week.
“One of these days, I’m going to walk in there myself and take the secret off the shelf!” The Prince snapped angrily. No one disputed him, but that would mean they'd have to take on the combine strength of the Royal Navy, destroy it and then invade Earth herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY: HOMECOMING
The remainder of the journey home was uneventful, which Mike was thankful for. It gave them time to clean and tidy the ship and get some rest. It
also gave the engineering staff a chance to do some additional work on the damaged forward battery. Not that there was any shortage of general work left unfinished by the dockyard crew. When other work was completed, he set the crew identifying and labeling every pipe, line, tube, and junction boxes, plus a multitude of other components on the ship. Everywhere he went, someone was painting something. Mike took the time to update his log, this time careful to phrase it in correct naval terms. He glossed over a few of the less lawful aspects of the mission, but didn’t fail to mention the outstanding performance of all the crew. He made a special note for Gable, Adam, Pete, CPO Blake, and the Marine detachment.
As required by Naval Regulation, he downloaded a complete video log of the missions, including his use of ordinance again the two picket ships, the Destroyers and the destruction of the Cruiser. As not officially at war with the Sirriens yet, there might be a few questions asked as to why he thought it necessary for his XO to shoot. He doubted the Admiralty would say anything, but it was better to air on the side of caution. As Captain, he took full responsibility for his XO actions, as he should, shielding him from any repercussions. Once he'd completed that, he updated his personal log. The days rolled by, and it was only later that Mike realized he’d reached a turning point it was in his life. He’d completed a difficult mission on his own initiative, and not because he was thrust into the situation by chance. He felt proud of the way his ship and crew performed, and justly proud of his own performance.
“Coming up on warp point to ‘Solar North’, Skipper.” The intercom sounded above his head.
“Thank you, Number One, I’ll be on the Bridge in two minutes.”
“Aye-aye, sir, we should be coming over the hyper wall in less than an hour, sir.”
The hyper wall, a highly technical name sounding term for a point in space where there was absolutely nothing to see except as a graphic representation on a screen. It looked something like a drain hole, and was nothing more than the dent that Sol put in the fabric of space/time. At the bottom, it narrowed to a point, representing the event horizon where matter couldn’t escape the pull of Earth Sun. Mike thought about what had possessed Captain Enright to engage his primitive warp drive at such a point in the first place. At the time, he had no idea that what he’d invented, nor what it would do. If anything. He anticipated measure the degree of gravitational flux he and other had noted out beyond the Oort cloud, nothing more. He must have thought he’d blown his ship up with what happened next. The universe turning itself inside out was an apt description, as that’s what it felt like to human senses. One second everything was normal, and the next complete disorientation and the feeling that time had stopped. This wasn’t the warp point Enright had used, that was on the far side of the Solar system near the Heliopause, and now off limits to all shipping. According to the official log, that jump took you to a binary star system and dropped you out in between two stars, one a red giant, the other a black hole. The gravity sheer was tremendous, and it was only blind luck that Enright’s ship wasn’t sucked in. It was a wonder that Enright or any of his crew survived at all, let alone able to make it back to Earth in the wreck of his ship. Earth could only thank fate for letting him live, and come back to report what he found, otherwise, the human race would still be stuck paddling around in the solar system. One of the main problems for a fleet transfer of a warp point was the scattering effect, and as yet, no one had been able to discover a way to keep a group of ship together in formation. You could enter a thousand yards behind the ship you started in with, and no predictability of where you’d end up in relation to the other ships of the fleet when you came out. In fact, you could end up coming out ahead of the ship you were following. With single ship transfer that was not problem, as you didn’t really care where you ended up, as long as it wasn’t in the center of a star, or an asteroid belt. That had happened a few times, but it was rare. Standard Navy regulation said that a Captain had to launch a scout torpedo before entering any unmapped WP. At least that way he’d have some idea of what was on the other side.
“Captain on the Bridge.” The OX called, informing everyone present of the change in command.
“Thank you, Number One - helm, any time you are ready.”
“Aye-aye, Skipper." Cindy Loftland answered her voice firm. The warp transfer alarm sounded throughout the ship, and everyone stopped what they were doing and sat or lay down.
The cooks switched off the stoves and anyone working with dangerous equipment switched it off as a safety precaution. “Transfer in five - four - three - two - one.” As the ship retracted the hyper sails, the ghostly images around him performed their usual dance, but if their actions were the same as his, he had no way of telling. The universe also did its dance and suddenly they were several thousand light years from where they had been, and Sol blazed before them.
“Transfer complete, Skipper.”
“Set course for Mercury Station, helm, most direct route, cruising speed.”
“Aye-aye, Skipper, the most direct route and cruising speed it is.”
“Have all division submit their final reports to me within the next twenty-four hours, Number One.”
“Aye, sir, I’ll have damage and supply reports ready for you at the same time.”
He could make a faster transit, but the Admiralty took a dim view of ship’s Captain that charged about the Solar System at flank speed, or three quarters the speed of light. In a way, it was all relative. With most ships now able to achieve speeds up to half the speed of light or better, it was more a question of not bumping into each other. The only other factors to watch was deceleration, but the super computer and the inertia sump handle all the that without anyone thinking about it. The inertia-damping field took care of effects of acceleration and de-acceleration. Without it, the human body wouldn’t last the first trip. It seemed inevitable that once a space faring civilization discovered warp point, they also discovered the necessary technology to travel the vast distances involved with easy. Usually some form of gravity drive system that could push them near the speed of light, the universal speed limit. Earth wasn’t the only one to have Ag technology, and every race they encountered with warp transfer capabilities, also invented an inertia-dampening field.
As they drew closer to the orbit of Mercury, Mike ordered a stop at the refueling station. Not that they were empty, the hydrogen scoop did a great job, but he erred on the side of caution and refilled his fuel, water and air tanks. During the last few days, the crew straightened up the ship, and made it look like a naval vessel again. It was sad in a way to see the colorful clothing vanish from the Bridge, as everyone had become use wearing it by now, even Gable. Leaving the fueling dock, Mike sent a coded message to Admiral Rawlings, informing him, they’d returned, and he wasn’t surprised when he was ordered to take up the same coordinates as before.
“Charlotte, you’d better set up a double watch on sensors, we don’t want anyone bumping into us while we’re here.”
“No, sir,” she chuckled, “we wouldn’t want that.”
They switched off the shielding when they docked with the fuel station, but as a precaution, he’d ordered it back on.
“I was just thinking, Pete. What if we had a fleet of ships like this? We could sneak into any enemy anchorage, launch all our torp and missiles and be gone before the enemy knew we were even here.”
“It’s a thought, Mike.”
“Yes, it is.” Mike murmured a germ of an idea blossoming in his mind.
“It also brings up the question of how WE see a ship coated like this.” Pete turned slightly to look at Gable.
“Hmm, true, there’s no telling how long we can keep this a secret, sir.”
“That’s another problem you will have to work on, Gable.” Instead of looking glum at the prospect of more work, Gable looked happy.
He had something to worry about, a technical problem to work on, and he was like a duck in water, his usual mournful face pulled into a smile. It still
took an hour before he was able to take his gig and transfer to the Flagship, and even longer before he could get in to see the Admiral. At last he came to attention in front of his desk.
“Leftenant Mike Gray, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”
“At easy, Leftenant. From what we hear through the jungle telegraph, you cause a bit of a stir on your little trip, or so I’m told.”
“Yes, sir, we did have to get a little creative to accomplish our mission. He smiled, handing his report over.
“I doubt that I can read this in a few moments, but I take it you destroyed those fighters?”
“No, sir.” Mike answered, looking mournful.
“No?” The Admiral face clouded up.
“No, sir, we had to go into Sirrien space, so after taking all that trouble, I decided it was just as easy to bring them back instead, and the pilots.”