Inferno Sphere (Obsidiar Fleet Book 2)

by Anthony James

  Blake quickly realised he’d misjudged them.

  “I’m not complaining, sir,” said Hawkins. “It’s just that you’ve removed the last tiny element of doubt that everyone in the Corps has been clinging to. I joined up to fight, but I damned well prefer peace.”

  “You’ve confirmed the beginning of war, sir,” said Quinn. “And when did any bunch of aliens want to do something other than kill as many of us as possible?”

  “That’s what they’re here for again,” said Pointer. “The Vraxar expand or they become extinct.”

  “Is it true what they say?” asked Hawkins. “Do they make you into some kind of metal-flesh soldier?”

  Blake sighed. “The ones we fought were exactly that. I have no idea if we saw a representative sample.”

  The questions came and Blake did his best to answer them. There’d been no specific order regarding secrecy, so he couldn’t see the harm in telling what he knew. Everyone in the Confederation was going to find out soon enough, assuming they didn’t already know.

  Eventually, the words dried up, leaving Blake to the task of acquainting himself with the specifics of the ES Blackbird. The interfaces to pilot Space Corps vessels were mostly identical across the entire fleet, but there were usually differences in the armaments and other capabilities. Every captain was trained to fly every ship with minimal issues. Naturally a fresh-faced rookie wouldn’t be put onto a battleship, but in theory it wouldn’t be a problem for such a captain to fly the vessel.

  “Sixteen Obsidiar processing cores, two Shatterer tubes, two Shimmer launchers, half a dozen cut-down Lambda clusters, a few heavy repeaters and a stealth mode,” said Blake after a short time checking his console. “Along with a fall-back energy shield.”

  “The stealth modules are probably different to the ones you’re used to,” said Quinn. “These ones are designed to be a little more robust.”

  “Well, we’re not going to start shooting anything,” said Blake. “It makes sense if we can hide.” He frowned. “What’s this predictive flight modelling option on the engines panel?”

  “New calculation routines,” said Quinn proudly. “The theory has been in place for a couple of decades, we’ve just lacked the ability to put it into practice.”

  “Yes, yes, but what does it do, Lieutenant?”

  “In a nutshell – if our sensors get a good enough look at a departing spaceship, this new software tries to predict where they’ll end up based on their energy expenditure, vector and numerous other factors.”

  “Does it work?”

  “In testing it works great on fleet vessels. Against anything else, nobody knows. It’s not quick either, sir. It’ll eat up as many processing cycles as we can throw at it and might still take hours.”

  “I like it,” said Blake. “Anything new is to be applauded. There’s something else here – on the weapons panel.”

  Hawkins stepped over to look. “I don’t have that option, sir. What is it?”

  Blake tried to access the unknown weapon’s subsystem. “You don’t have clearance to see it and I don’t have clearance to use it or to find out what it is.”

  He wasn’t a man determined to subvert authority just for the sake of it, but he liked a challenge. He attempted to access the weapon by a different means.

  “Still blocked.” He looked closely. “I can see the date stamp for when it was installed – four days ago. One day after our monitoring station detected activity at Cheops-A.”

  “We only came onboard three days ago,” said Hawkins.

  “I don’t like secrets,” said Blake. “Come out of lightspeed, I want to speak to someone.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Quinn. “Switching from fission drive to gravity engines.”

  Blake was so accustomed to smooth lightspeed transitions he’d already forgotten how different the ES Blackbird was. It was too late to belay his order and the spaceship dropped shudderingly into local space, leaving Blake and Pointer retching.

  “You sort of get used to it,” said Hawkins. “Or better at pretending you can ignore it, even when you still feel like crap.” There was a note of accusation in her voice.

  Blake coughed violently. “Get me through to Fleet Admiral Duggan,” he managed.

  Pointer had recovered enough to look embarrassed. “Shouldn’t I go for a common-or-garden Admiral first, sir?”

  “Normally I would agree. On this mission, Fleet Admiral Duggan is our direct contact.”

  “I don’t think I’ve spoken to an Admiral before,” said Quinn. “Let alone the top man himself.”

  “Got him,” said Pointer.

  Blake put a finger over his lips to tell the others it was time for quiet. He plugged in his earpiece.

  “Captain Blake,” said Duggan. “What can I do for you?”

  “There’s a weapon onboard, sir. I’m denied access to it.”

  Duggan’s laughter was unexpected. “Secrets, eh? I used to hate them myself, but as I get older I find they have their uses.”

  “Will this secret weapon improve our chances of success?”

  “If you stick to the guidelines of the mission there should be no need for you to use any weaponry.”

  It was obvious which way the conversation was going. “Is there any point in me keeping you on the comms, sir?”

  More laughter. “I won’t change my mind quite yet. I can remote-activate your access if it ever becomes necessary. If you handle things correctly, I won’t need to.”

  Blake was disappointed, though he had no right to be. “I understand, sir. We’re nineteen hours out from Cheops-A. I’ll update you when we get there.”

  “You absolutely cannot allow the Vraxar to detect you. We don’t know what the result will be – they might have rules of war which are completely at odds with anything we understand.”

  “If the Blackbird is as good as the spec sheets, we’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not just about the spec sheets, damnit! It’s about what you do as a captain – how hard you can push things to get a result. You’ve got to know when to back off and when take a chance. None of this comes up in the design manuals!”

  “I know that, sir. I’m not here to piss about.”

  “Good. Return to lightspeed and keep me informed when you arrive.”

  “He’s gone, sir,” said Pointer helpfully.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Blake gritted his teeth. “Sorry, folks, it’s time for us to be on our way again. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  A few seconds later, he was once again regretting his decision to initiate what had turned out to be a fruitless conversation with Fleet Admiral Duggan. His body was starting to adapt to the violent launches to lightspeed – if he tensed his muscles just right and kept his head lowered, it wasn’t quite so bad, though not something to be experienced any more than strictly necessary.

  The journey was a comparatively short one in terms of duration. Nevertheless, there was sufficient time for the crew to get enough sleep to ensure they’d be in good shape to manage whatever there was to come. Blake spoke to Quinn and Hawkins – it was no surprise to find they were amongst the most experienced officers in the Space Corps. Pointer was something of the exception and her inclusion spoke volumes about how much Duggan valued personnel with first-hand knowledge of combat. The short time on the ES Lucid had pushed her to the front of the queue and ahead of comms personnel who’d served for fifteen or twenty years.

  “What happened to Sergeant McKinney?” asked Pointer, cutting into his reverie. “I haven’t been able to find out.”

  “Lieutenant McKinney, you mean? I don’t know exactly what happened to him other than the fact he got promoted. It was well-deserved.”

  “And that nice Lieutenant Cruz? Where’s she?”

  Blake thought himself a good judge of character. “She’d have hated to be called nice. I bet she’s been plagued by that label her whole life.”

  “Some people are just nice, sir. That’s who they are.”

  “To
answer your question, Lieutenant Cruz is still on the Juniper – she’s been excused from duty while her ankle is reconstructed and fused. Her file didn’t go into greater detail on her health. She put in a request for a transfer onto a warship. If she gets accepted, it’ll be another year of additional training.”

  “Shame,” said Pointer. “I liked her.”

  “She was one of those people. If she toughens up, there’s a good chance she’ll go far. If humanity isn’t annihilated first.”

  “Aren’t senior officers meant to put a positive swing on things, no matter the circumstances?” said Hawkins. “I’m sure I read that somewhere.”

  “The Space Corps values its personnel, however they choose to interpret the guidelines,” Blake replied.

  Hawkins laughed. “If I may be permitted to speak my mind, I think I’m going to enjoy serving on your ship a lot better than the last one.”

  “Which ship were you on last time?”

  “You might remember it, sir. The Galactic class New Beginning.”

  Blake started. “You weren’t in Response Fleet Alpha, else you’d have known about the Vraxar.”

  “Lieutenant Quinn and I were both on leave. We weren’t close enough to be recalled.”

  “Captain Kang was a coward,” said Blake simply. “He caused many deaths.”

  “I’m not surprised, sir,” said Hawkins. “The man was a complete bastard.”

  “I’m glad they kicked him out,” said Quinn.

  “It’s hard to keep things quiet for long in the Corps,” said Blake. “Anyway, let’s not talk about him any longer. Just the mention of his name pisses me off.” He took a deep breath. “When do we reach Cheops-A?”

  “Two hours and five minutes.”

  Blake spent the remaining time studying the known data on the Cheops-A solar system. It was a rarity in that it had been visited by the Space Corps’ scouts and prospectors on several occasions. Most planets in Confederation Space were treated to a perfunctory scan if a prospector vessel’s captain thought there was a chance of unearthing valuable minerals. That was generally as far as it went – the Confederation had an abundance of everything it needed apart from Obsidiar and, to a much lesser degree, Gallenium.

  “A massive red star, with twelve orbiting planets and a total of ninety-eight moons.”

  “I assume the monitoring station was able to narrow it down?” said Pointer. “You mentioned it was a fleeting glimpse, but they must have analysed it to death.”

  “They did analyse it and the results show a 99% likelihood of the target planet being the fifth one out. It’s called Ranver.”

  “After the mathematician?”

  “I have no idea. Anyway, we’re going to exit lightspeed as close to Ranver as possible. Usually, we’d need to be a few hours away to reduce the chance of our fission signature being detected. Luckily, the Blackbird is fitted with…” he looked at Lieutenant Quinn. “What did you call it?”

  “Fission suppression, sir. It’s like a net that pulls in the stray particles and throws them out the back. Sort of how an old exhaust system worked, only completely different. In theory, it should allow us to safely arrive within ten minutes gravity drive travel from our destination, though the recommendation is to push that out to thirty.”

  “And this requires Obsidiar to work, I assume?” asked Pointer.

  “It’s the way forward, Lieutenant,” said Quinn. “If we ever find a way to make enough of this Obsidiar stuff, you can be sure that one day it’ll be powering your toothbrush.”

  “Let’s concentrate on the mission,” said Blake. “When we enter local space, I want the stealth modules online immediately and I need a comprehensive in-depth scan of the area. Sixteen Obsidiar processing units should be fast enough to keep the sensor feeds clean. On top of that, provide status updates to the Juniper at regular intervals. If anything goes wrong, I want there to be a record of what we found.”

  The crew didn’t need telling twice and they got on with the final preparations. It was beginning to sink in that this wasn’t one of the Space Corps’ training exercises – this was a vital reconnaissance mission and whatever they found here could well determine the path of the war.

  With five minutes to go, Lieutenant Quinn began a countdown. When he announced ten seconds remaining, Blake braced himself for the intense discomfort of the ES Blackbird’s entry into the Cheops-A system. When it came, it was bad, but no worse than the others.

  “Status update,” he grunted through the pain.

  “Stealth modules active,” said Quinn.

  “Beginning local area scan,” said Pointer.

  It didn’t take long to discover the news.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ADMIRAL HENRY TALLEY’S destination was a few kilometres outside Roban’s planetary capital city of Miklon. The building he’d seen on the sensors was in a walled compound and protected by covert surveillance, along with an array of automated lethal and non-lethal systems to repulse unwanted guests. Andrews paused to check in with Miklon’s main civilian airfield. Once he was certain they had clearance to land he brought the shuttle onto the compound’s dedicated pad, which was a raised concrete slab set a hundred metres away from the place Talley was expected.

  “They’ve sent a welcome party, sir,” said Andrews.

  Talley watched a group of five dressed in red uniforms as they walked smartly along a wide path which led from the main building to the landing pad.

  “Unarmed?” he said, squinting at the feed.

  “Looks like. They’re security men, though, except that one at the front. I know the type.”

  “I agree,” said Talley. “Nothing to be alarmed about, I’m sure.”

  He left the cockpit and entered the passenger bay, to find his escort already at attention.

  “Sir, I recommend we accompany you,” said Richards.

  “That’s fine. Open the door,” said Talley.

  The man closest to the side iris activated the door. It spun open and a set of concertinaed metal steps extended to the ground. Talley looked out. The group of five were standing twenty metres away, with the lead man tall and impassive. This man had an additional insignia on his chest which the others lacked.

  “You four, follow me,” said Talley, indicating three of the soldiers and Lieutenant Richards. “That’s Councillor Edmonds at the front.”

  Talley descended the steps. It was early evening on Roban and the sky was pure blue. It was warm, though not excessively so – the sort of day to be savoured in other circumstances. There was a faint breeze, cool and welcome. Trees of a type local to the planet rustled quietly.

  When he reached the bottom of the steps, Talley strode over to Edmonds with his hand extended. Edmonds was lean and with a neutral face which indicated the man was good at keeping his cards hidden.

  “Councillor Zachary Edmonds,” Talley greeted him.

  Edmonds took the hand in a firm grip and nodded once. “Admiral Henry Talley.”

  “We have much to discuss, Councillor.”

  “Straight to the point, I see, Admiral.”

  “Always.”

  Edmonds looked at the accompanying soldiers, as though seeing them for the first time. “Firearms are not permitted within the building.”

  Talley hesitated – his rank meant he was permitted an armed guard wherever he went. It wasn’t the time for stubbornness.

  “Leave the guns here,” he said.

  Richards looked as though he wanted to protest. Instead, he put his plasma repeater on the ground and unslung his rifle which he also laid down. The others did the same.

  With that, Talley and Edmonds turned and walked towards the main building. The two groups of four escorts fell in behind, eyeing each other suspiciously.

  The building had been designed to look like a large house, with wood-framed windows and a sloping, tiled roof with three chimneys. Talley wasn’t fooled by the homely appearance – vital business would be conducted within the walls of this place.
/>   The grounds were magnificently manicured, reminding him of gardens he’d seen only in pictures. A variety of delicate scents reached his nostrils from the colourful flowers and shrubs, most of which he didn’t recognize. The Space Corps’ aesthetics were non-existent and the military bases on which Talley spent most of his time were enormously drab. There was beauty in the lines of its spacecraft, though not of a type directly comparable to the exquisiteness of carefully-tended nature.

  As he walked, Talley noticed how much thought had gone into the design of the gardens, such that it was nearly impossible to see the perimeter walls as he walked. Movement caught his eye and he saw a distant shuttle trace a line across the sky, its silver hull spoiling the illusion of the party’s isolation from technology.

  Talley wasn’t forced to endure small talk for long. The party ascended a wide set of white stone steps to a pair of hard wood doors, which were already open to reveal a marble-floored hallway within. There were two robot attendants – old models which were little more than floating cylinders with arms and a screen showing an androgynous face.

  “Look after these men,” instructed Edmonds.

  “Sir?” asked Richards, looking for confirmation he was to follow the robots.

  “It’s fine,” said Talley.

  Richards didn’t look happy but did as he was asked.

  Once his escort was gone, Talley followed Edmonds into the house. It was cool within and when his eyes adjusted, Talley was able to pick out details which indicated how much this place had cost to build. There was a stone staircase leading up, with carved wooden bannisters, a magnificent chandelier and a series of paintings along the walls. Talley could appreciate the workmanship, though part of him couldn’t get past the idea that it was wasteful – a notion he admitted was absurd given the cost of building even a single, small warship.

  “This way,” said Edmonds, indicating an open doorway a few metres along.

  Talley glanced left and right as he went and saw that the side rooms were packed with screens and expensive consoles. There was evidently more to this place than met the eye. He was directed into a waiting room, which was carpeted and with several leather chairs. It was as though there was a concerted effort to divide the house such that there was either no technology present at all, or the best the ruling council could obtain.