by Nick Webb
“Excellent, Mr. President.” She glanced at her armrest display, and, sure enough, a small fleet of mining ships was approaching the Independence from the direction of one of the commercial stations in a higher orbit. “Have your staff divvy them out to the three ships. The Independence will have to take most of them, of course. And the anti-matter bombs?”
“Stored in a supposedly abandoned supply depot orbiting one of Calais’s minor moons. It of course is under heavy IDF guard, but from outward appearances it’s a derelict with a quarantine beacon warning people of Havlonian plague. Hasn’t been disturbed in thirty years.”
She was impressed. He’d come through. In a big way. “Congratulations, Mr. President, I detest your party, but you’ve won my vote in the next election. Assuming there is a next election. Are the bombs on their way?”
“Should be here in minutes.”
“Send them to the Defiance. Captain Granger and I will run ahead and get to Penumbra first, so that the bombs can be detonated to summon the Swarm from Earth, and everywhere else.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god. I forgot.” She glanced this way and that across the bridge, searching the crew. Her eyes rested on Whitehorse who was coordinating with her tactical crew the delivery of the interdictors from Wellington. “Ms. Whitehorse. I’ve completely forgotten. I need a captain for the Independence.”
She blushed, but then stood ramrod straight and saluted. “I am honored, ma’am. Thank you.” But she also looked confused. “But … what about Captain Volz?”
“He is flying the Sword of Justice. Liu’s ship. We need all the ships planting interdictors that we can fly, because we may lose a few. Ballsy is best suited for that particular job. And you are best suited for this one. Take your post, captain.”
Jerusha Whitehorse walked forward, amazed. There was a slow clap building among the bridge crew and their staff and she threw a few grins their way. But when she reached the captain’s chair, she was all business. “As you were,” she said, in a commanding voice that pleasantly surprised Proctor. “And thank you, everyone.” She turned to Proctor. “And you, admiral. Thank you for trusting me. You’re an inspiration to us all. You’ve made me believe, against all the horrors that we’ve witnessed, that we may just be able to win this thing yet.”
“Ma’am,” said Lieutenant Qwerty. “Meta-space transmission coming in from Earth. Wide band. It’s Admiral Oppenheimer. Addressed particularly to you.”
Proctor leaned over to her armrest and brought the message up.
And her heart sunk.
Things are even worse than we thought. —O
“Qwerty,” she said as she walked over to comms, pulling Whitehorse with her. She lowered her voice so only the two of them could hear. “Meta-space message back to Oppenheimer. As follows. “Christian, spill it. It doesn’t matter who knows now. We’re planning something, and we need all the cards on the table. Or we all die. Proctor.”
Qwerty tapped it out. “Done, ma’am. They should be picking this up in a few minutes.”
She could only guess what could be worse than five Swarm ships nearing Earth, each wielding artificial singularity weapons that could turn Earth into a black hole. Or, if they preferred, they could just slag it to ashes with their energy weapons. So many choices.
The only thing to do was continue finalizing the preparations. “Commander Mumford. Are the meta-space shunts all assembled?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And have we determined an optimal elevation above the black hole to q-jump into?”
He walked over holding a data pad. It projected a map up into the air of the Penumbra system. “Here,” he said, pointing to a spot just a few million kilometers above the event horizon. And we’ll have roughly two point five million kilometers of free-fall to get the job done, since we can’t actually survive near the event horizon. Rather, this point here,” he tapped a point in space just a hundred thousand kilometers above the event horizon, “is our red line, before the tidal forces are enough to tear our largest ships apart. And, assuming full upward thrust from the Swarm ships, that gives us about half an hour of free fall before we cross the line.”
“Half an hour,” she repeated. “Half an hour to fight the largest, most consequential battle in human history.” She waved the map away. “Very well. Thank you, Mr. Mumford.” She tapped the comm button on Qwerty’s station. “Ballsy, this is Proctor. You there?”
“Shelby?”
“What’s your status? And what’s the plan on your end?”
She heard him talking to someone nearby, wrapping up a conversation before beginning again. “We’re nearly done with the Transformation. All that’s left is the bridge. I’ll be there momentarily, and I’ll explain the plan in person. Ballsy out.”
Ok. Was that everything? This was easily the most complex battle plan she’d ever made. So many moving parts. So many people with tasks that, if they failed, would sink the whole operation. There was no room for error. “What are we missing?” she asked Whitehorse. “We’re forgetting something. And if we don’t remember it, we’re all dead. Think, captain.”
Whitehorse closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said after a moment. “Nothing’s coming to mind. But I’ll keep thinking, admiral.”
“Good,” she said, just as Qwerty turned to her.
“Adm’ral,” he said. “We’ve got your reply.”
She bent down to his station to read it.
And the pit in her stomach hardened.
Huntsman was Russian agent, thirty years ago. Was in the Family. He wants back in. And may have the means to do it. Be wary. Also, we need all assistance at Earth in the next twenty minutes. —O
She stood up straight. “This could change everything.”
Ballsy strode onto the bridge. “Shelby,” he began. “Are you ready?”
The pit in her stomach remained intact. Huntsman used to be Swarm. And he wants back in. And he has the means to do it, which could only mean he has access to Swarm matter, which he may even be able to control, given what happened to Ballsy earlier.
“Shelby?” he repeated.
“First, what’s the plan?”
He nodded. “Ok. The entire crew has been transformed, and, to tell the truth, I’m beginning to feel them in my mind, through the proto-ligature that our friends are building. We have around ninety capital ships at Earth, and another few hundred smaller frigates and such. I’ve got two hundred crew members on the flight deck, waiting to board the shuttles that are due to arrive. When we get to Earth, each shuttle will go to a different ship, and begin the transformation process there. You’ll need to broadcast when we get there and explain, though I don’t envy you—that’s a lot to explain in such a little amount of time. People are going to have to trust you.”
Whitehorse inclined her head. “They’ll trust her.” She motioned her head in the direction of a wall. “They trust Granger, too.”
“Me too.” Proctor drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Ok. I’m ready.” She held out her arm and rolled the sleeve up. “Huntsman’s a wild card. But, frankly, there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Let’s get this show on the road. I’ll signal you from the Defiance when Tim and I are ready.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Bridge
ISS Defiance
Gas giant Calais
Britannia system
When the door to Defiance’s bridge opened, Proctor saw Granger hunched over the tactical console. “Shelby, I’ve only been gone thirty years, but from looking at this console layout it’s like I was gone thirteen billion. Everything’s changed. Where the hell is the damn fire button?”
She reached down and pointed to an area that wasn’t even illuminated. “Here. It’s inactive now, and won’t even light up as an option until systems are online and the commanding officer gives weapons clear.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “That’s crazy. What happens if the commanding officer is incapacitated and can’t give the order
?”
“Then, if it’s a health status issue, the computer detects that and unlocks the button. If it’s another reason then the tactical officer has to enter in an emergency code. It’s to prevent accidents from happening like at Dresden Prime a few years back—we almost lost a ship when someone showed up to duty higher than a kite and thought the fire button looked like a pretty bug. But … that was after your time.”
“Well,” he said, with a shrug, “I guess that’s prudent.” He sat down at the tactical station and leaned back. “Good Lord, Shelby, I knew this would be weird. But this is weird. It’s like my mind is playing tricks on me. Things that should be familiar are not, things that the old Granger didn’t know about are as clear as day to me. And my memory, oh God, my memory. It’s like a big soup of images and places and concepts and people, most of which I’m not even sure if they were my memories from before I fell into the black hole or after. I … I created entire races, Shelby. The Findiri … oh God, the Findiri. I made them to fight the Swarm. But it was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. And if we end up beating the Swarm, then they’ll come for us. And soon. And the Quiassi? Even worse.”
“Tim,” she began, and sat down next to him, “you say you intentionally came back without any idea of what we’d do so that the Swarm would never know what our final plan was. Because you worried that if you knew, then they’d know. Well now you know. Does that mean that they know too?”
“No. This body, because it was made and locked in that chamber for so long, was complete untouched by the Swarm, or by the Valarisi. That at least I planned. It took a few hundred thousand years to come to fruition, but it looks like it worked. The Swarm have no influence on me, can’t read me, don’t even know I’m back in this form. We’re safe.”
“And….” She shook her head in disbelief, “you had that much faith in us, in me, that you planned the tools we’d use in this operation for billions of years, without knowing if my team and I would even be able to come up with a viable plan? What if … what if I’d had a cold today and my head was so stuffy that I could hardly think? What if I just … couldn’t think of anything? What if Lieutenant Zivic hadn’t come up with this whole scheme? What if I’m not supposed to use his plan, but come up with my own? What if—”
He held up his hands to cut her off. “Shelby, Shelby, stop. The answer to your question is, I don’t know. Sometimes there just are no set answers. Or no good answers. But, at the end of the day, I trusted that Shelby Proctor would come up with a plan every bit as good as I could have come up with in a billion years, and probably even a little better.” He considered for a moment. “I can’t remember if I ever told you this, Shelby—I honestly can’t—but back in the day, I had a secret weapon.”
“What?” She cocked her head in confusion. “What was it? Stimulants?”
“It was you, Shelby.” He started chuckling for a few seconds. “You never slept. You hardly ate. You worked twenty hours a day for, what was it, two months? Four months? You were my XO, my science officer, my Swarm researcher, my ideas person when we needed a new tactic … and you were my friend. What the hell do you think would have happened if you weren’t there with me?”
She looked down. “You would have found a way.”
“I’m not so sure about that. But thankfully we’ll never know. And the more I’ve watched you the past few hours, the more convinced I am that I made the right choice about all this.”
She glanced at the clock. There was hardly any time left. Earth was about to be destroyed. “Well … I guess we’re about to find out whether your trust in me—in us—was well placed.” She stood up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Tim.” Once back at the captain’s chair and command console, she added, “how’s the proto-ligature doing? Can you communicate with the Granger moons yet?”
“It’s coming along beautifully. The Valarasi are among the most elegant, beautiful races I’ve ever seen in all my eons of life. And they’ve worked hard the past few hours. I think I can summon all of them. But for now, at Earth, we’ll stick with two, just so we don’t tip our hand to the Swarm in any way. You know, if there were, say, only ten Swarm ships instead of fifty, we’d have a fighting chance just smacking them around with my moons and the Skiohra super dreadnoughts—I built those things to take a punch. But for now, Tal Rishi and Ampera Raya will do nicely.”
“Good. Let me send off a quick message to Oppenheimer, and make sure the fleet is ready, and then we’re off. I should get the President over here too, so we can present a united front to Oppenheimer—we can’t afford any bullshit and time -wasting. By the way, for Oppenheimer and anyone else, I’m pinning this whole crazy thing on you. At this point, you’re the only one who could convince them it has any chance of working.”
He’d fallen silent for nearly half a minute while she worked, but finally added, “I don’t want to get your hopes up, Shelby. This has a high chance of failure. Don’t let my pep talk go to your head and make you overconfident. Honestly, the chances of this working perfectly are near zero, and the chance of even partial success is … well, let’s just say I’d be safer on the other side of the universe.”
“Then why are you here, Tim?”
He smiled. “Because there is no place I’d rather be.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Bridge
ISS Resolute
Near Earth
Admiral Oppenheimer read her message as it scrolled past.
We’ll be there momentarily. Standby. And when I arrive, I’ll tell you the plan. The battle is not at Earth. The big man is here with me, and boy does he have a story to tell. —P
“Well I’ll be. She did it. She brought him back. Unbelievable.” He stood up and watched the countdown timer on the viewscreen. Forty minutes. He scanned the schematics of the firing vectors and battle group positions, and all the preparations they’d made for the battle. And here was Proctor telling him it could all be for naught. “But … the nerve of that woman. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I give up Earth.”
He dictated a message back.
The day I give up Earth will be the day after I’m dead. Your orders are to assist in the defense of Earth, no matter what ghost you’ve brought along for the ride. —O
He fired it off.
More preparations. Starships that needed last minute ordnance restocking. Senators down on Earth who were demanding to know where the President was, if he was even alive at all. The national governments trying to get a hold of him for reassurances that Earth would be protected, to which he sent the blanket message, We’ll do our best, as always.
Finally, a reply.
Christian. Something you should know. I believe you. You told me you fear what the Findiri and Quiassi could potentially do to us, and I blew you off. I was wrong. I apologize. After this is all over I’ll help you begin building defenses against them. But right now, believe me. The Bricklayer is here. And he’s got one last crazy scheme that just may save us all. Five minutes. —P
Wow. He did not expect that. A repentant Admiral Shelby Proctor. He never thought he’d see the day.
“Message to the fleet. Stand by for additional instructions. Tell them to be ready. Things may change on a dime.”
And on the viewscreen, the telescopic image of the Swarm ships on approach was replaced by a non magnified image. There they were. Tiny dots now, but growing steadily. He could just make out their shapes. Grotesque, with spires jutting out at odd angles.
“You better have brought a miracle with you, Shelby. Or this will be the shortest space battle in history.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Bridge
ISS Defiance
Near Earth
The final T-jump was executed, and Earth snapped into place, just where she’d left it, weeks ago.
Arrays of dots on the screen showed where the fleet was assembled. And in the other direction, the steadily approaching Swarm.
“Open an encrypted video channel to the
Resolute.” She glanced to her left and gave a curt nod to Granger. She glanced to her right and did likewise for President Sepulveda who’d arrived on the Defiance just minute before the jump. She was going to need all the powers of persuasion available to her, including using two of United Earth’s icons: its President, and its Hero.
Admiral Oppenheimer appeared on the screen. His jaw fell two inches.
“Christian. It’s good to see you,” she said, sincerely. “President Sepulveda I’m sure you know. And this gentleman,” she held up a hand to her left, “I believe is an old acquaintance of yours.”
“Oh … my … god.” His jaw still hung slack. “Tim? Is that really you?”
Granger smiled. “Who do you think I am, lieutenant? Though I see you’ve earned your admiral’s bars in the time since I last saw you. Congratulations. You’ve made quite a name for yourself.”
“Mr. President,” Oppenheimer continued, apparently accepting Tim as Tim. “Good to see you alive. We weren’t entirely sure, after Britannia.”
“Good to be alive, Christian.” Sepulveda thumbed to his left. “We’re out of time. Listen. And do exactly what she says. Or we’re all dead.”
Oppenheimer grit his teeth. It was clear he wasn’t exactly happy about that, given that he’d made so many preparations for this battle. But he relented. “Ok. What’s the plan, Shelby?”
Oh thank god. He saw reason.
“Open a joint channel with the three of us here, so all the captains see a united front. There’s no time to do any convincing. You’ll hear the plan the same time as everyone else.”
