Cradle of War (A Captain's Crucible Book 3)

by Isaac Hooke

  Too late, now.

  “It’s almost like our own Round Table,” Barrick said over the comm. “Except in reverse.”

  “What’s that?” Jonathan answered, roused from his thoughts.

  “The way they’re sitting,” Barrick answered. “It’s like our Round Table, except they’re seated back to back. Their minds are linked of course, so that when the captain wishes to issue a command, he need merely think it to the individual in question.”

  “How does he communicate with the AI?” Jonathan asked. “Assuming there is an AI...”

  “Oh there is,” Barrick replied. He nodded toward one of the indentations in the bulkhead. “See that sensor? They wear matching devices on their heads. I’m guessing that’s how they communicate with the AI.”

  Jonathan stared at the indentation and finally spotted a small, dark disk set against the lighter metal of the backdrop. He glanced at the symmetrical opposites of the indentation in the compartment, and noted two more such disks.

  “You’ll never guess how they eat,” Barrick said.

  Jonathan glanced at Barrick and stated, slightly deadpan: “How do they eat.”

  “You see those corrugated lines all along their bellies? I’ve figured out that’s their digestive tract. It’s completely external. Before they go to sleep, they slather their bodies with some kind of goo, which I think is their food. And most of it is absorbed by morning. They shake off the dried flakes that remain when they wake up. Their equivalent of taking a shit.”

  “Thanks for that,” Jonathan said. “I’ll be sure to share it with our scientists.”

  “I think they’ll appreciate it,” Barrick said.

  Because I sure don’t, Jonathan thought. He noticed something. “Wait. If they digest food externally, what’s the point of the probosces on their heads?”

  “Those are for sexual reproduction,” Barrick said.

  Jonathan gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you sure you’re not making all of this up?”

  “Maybe some of it,” Barrick admitted.

  Jonathan shook his head. “Damn it.”

  “I feel sorry for you, Captain,” Robert’s voice came over from the Callaway on a private line that excluded Barrick. “I’d hate to spend even a few minutes, let alone a few weeks, cooped up with that telepath.”

  Though the range to the Callaway wasn’t far, and the human comm nodes in the hangar bay boosted the signal, the commander’s voice suffered from severe digital warping—if the Talon’s bridge was anything like his own cruiser, there would be extra armor and radiation shielding around the compartment. Without HLEDs to retransmit the data via Li-Fi, the packet loss would be relatively high.

  “I’ll manage,” Jonathan replied to his first officer.

  He ran his gaze once more across the compartment. It was still hard to make the connection that he was actually on the bridge of a starship. The aliens manning the place didn’t help: he felt like he stood in some illegal menagerie, where he observed genetic freaks put together by academy scientists with too much time on their hands looking to justify the expense of their department’s DNA printers.

  Also, he was used to having a wealth of information overlaid onto his vision: the 3D tactical display showing the battle space immediately surrounding the starship, the external video feeds that provided images in the visual, thermal, and other radiation bands. He could still have them if he really wanted, lagged as the streams would be, but he had turned them off to preserve bandwidth for the live digital video transmission he was sending Robert.

  The commander’s voice came on the line again. “I’m still surprised they let you transmit video from their bridge. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “They’re going to have to share what their bridge looks like at some point,” Jonathan said over the private line, excluding Barrick. “When we assign them a real liaison officer, for example. That the Raakarr are doing it now shows me they’re somewhat serious about an alliance. How’s my video feed by the way? Still pixelating?”

  “As ever,” came the commander’s reply a few seconds later. “We tried compensating for it, but they certainly have some powerful shielding in place around that bridge. Though that armor makes me wonder... you claim they’re giving you permission to send video, and that it shows how serious they are about an alliance? Have you considered that maybe they thought we wouldn’t be able to punch through it at all?”

  “I’m sure their AI would have pointed that out to them by now,” Jonathan replied. “And they haven’t made me shut it off.”

  “Maybe,” Robert said. “By the way, we finished the full sweep of the Callaway you requested earlier. And the remaining ships in the fleet have completed similar internal searches.”

  “And...?” Jonathan replied.

  “If the Phant is aboard any of our vessels, then the thing has found a way to evade our scans,” Robert responded a moment later. “There’s no sign of it anywhere. Should I be worried?”

  Jonathan glanced at the telepath. “No. It was a false alarm, I think.”

  Barrick spoke over the main comm a moment later. “Otter tells me the Talon is nearing the Slipstream.” Otter was the liaison officer that Valor had assigned to them so that the telepath wouldn’t have to “constantly pester Valor,” as Barrick put it. He had come up with the name on his own, because when Barrick asked the alien what he should call it, the creature apparently returned a point cloud that vaguely resembled an otter.

  “How long until we cross over into our own galaxy?” Jonathan asked the man.

  “They’re launching exploratory probes now,” Barrick said. “We’ll leave as soon as they get back.”

  Several minutes passed.

  Barrick spoke again. “Otter says the probes have returned. Apparently the space beyond definitely corresponds to Vega 951. However, there were two Raakarr comm node equivalents camped out beside the entrance. They have been disabled by an EMP from the probes, and the area is now clear.”

  Jonathan felt his brow crumple. “I thought you said the Talon launched ‘exploratory’ probes.”

  “Well, they are. An EMP is the only offensive measure the probes are capable of.”

  “Fine,” Jonathan said. “Are there any indications of other ships nearby? Raakarr or human?”

  “None.”

  Robert’s voice came over the comm. “The Raakarr have to be hiding somewhere in the system.”

  “I agree,” Jonathan said over the private line. “As I doubt they could have reached the farther Slipstream, 2-Vega, by now. I’m sure they’ll show themselves soon—when they realize their comm nodes have been disabled.”

  “Your arrival will probably catch them by surprise,” Robert added. “I highly doubt they were expecting any of us so soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  “The probes have docked,” Barrick announced. “The Talon is accelerating toward the Slipstream.”

  Jonathan felt his heart rate increase.

  “This is it, Robert,” he said through the lagging connection to the Callaway. “Anything you want to say before I jump a few million light years away?”

  “Only one thing, Captain,” Robert replied. “Give them hell.”

  Jonathan laughed softly. “I expect you to return my ship without a scratch on her.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Robert said. “Micro-meteor accumulations can cause quite a mess on the Whittle layer, as I’m sure you know.”

  Jonathan chuckled once more. “Micro-meteor accumulations are the least of my worries.” He blinked several times and added: “I leave the ship in good hands.”

  Robert replied a few seconds later. “Maxwell says he’ll burn some toast in your honor. I have no idea what that means.”

  “Tell Maxwell—”

  Robert’s connection indicator abruptly winked out.

  “We’re through,” Barrick said.

  Good-bye, Commander. And good luck.

  sixteen

  Jonathan listened to
his own breathing as he waited patiently for Barrick to update him. Each breath sounded relatively loud, thanks to the amplification induced by the confines of the helmet. A built-in noise canceler muted the sound somewhat; there were various settings to the canceler, and it could actually silence the noise entirely, but then he wouldn’t hear his own voice.

  After several moments Jonathan turned toward Barrick and said: “So, are we in Vega 951?”

  “Otter says we are most certainly in Vega 951,” Barrick told the captain. “But the Gate you built? It’s gone. There is, however, debris consistent with the structure in orbit around the wormhole.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. When the fleeing Raakarr passed this way, they decided to leave us a little parting gift by destroying the Gate.”

  NAVCENT would have to dispatch a Builder to the system as soon as possible, otherwise Robert and the rest of the fleet would have to spend another six months in Vega 951 to construct their own return Gate.

  “Any sign of the Raakarr yet?” Jonathan asked the telepath.

  “Otter says the system appears empty, so far,” Barrick replied.

  Jonathan recalled the planetoids that orbited in relatively close proximity to the Slipstream: the perfect spots for an enemy to wait in ambush. “Even so, we should proceed to Prius 3 as soon as possible. Some or all of those six enemy ships could easily be hiding—”

  Barrick raised a hushing hand. After a moment: “A Raakarr laser ship has emerged from behind the nearest planetoid. Two vessels are providing escort. I believe you call them ‘dart’ ships. They are currently four million, five hundred thousand kilometers away.” He paused, then glanced at Jonathan. “One of the ships is sending us a message.”

  After a minute, Barrick continued: “The three ships belong to the Elk faction, of course. Their commodore is calling for our surrender. He promises leniency if Valor gives up his human prisoners.”

  Jonathan studied the six aliens in the command pit. There was no physical indication that the Zarafe had received a message of any kind. The crew remained completely motionless; if they were debating the contents of the transmission, then they were doing so solely in their minds.

  “Valor has to refuse.” Jonathan turned to Barrick. “He’s going to refuse, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Barrick said.

  Jonathan glanced at the combat robots, then he tapped in Chief Galaal on a private line. “Chief, be ready to stage Operation Chaotic Breakout.”

  “We’re ready,” the chief returned. “Just give the word.”

  Jonathan waited several tense moments.

  “So what’s going on?” Jonathan asked.

  “Valor is deliberating with the bridge crew, as far as I can tell,” Barrick said.

  Jonathan tried to consider the situation from the alien captain’s viewpoint. It was essentially Valor’s last chance to renounce the path he had chosen. If he refused to surrender, and traveled through the Slipstream to Prius 3, there truly would be no going back for any of the aliens.

  Jonathan continued to wait. He was ready to trigger the last-resort operation that would see his party fight their way to the hangar bay, when the blue filaments in the bulkhead changed to red.

  “What’s happening?” Jonathan asked.

  “Otter says Valor has decided to refuse,” Barrick replied. The relief was evident in his voice.

  Past the point of no return, then. Good.

  “Chief, stand down,” Jonathan sent over the private connection.

  “Standing down,” the chief replied.

  “Valor has instructed his communications officer to play along,” Barrick said. “We are feigning surrender.”

  “Is it making a difference?” Jonathan asked.

  “Hard to tell, yet,” Barrick replied. “The enemy vessels are still on approach.” He paused. “Valor just ordered an advance probe through the Slipstream.”

  “Will the enemy Raakarr detect that?” Jonathan asked.

  “Probably.”

  Jonathan instinctively reached for his face, wanting to touch his lips in that nervous habit of his, but his fingers bounced off the helmet. He lowered the glove, feeling somewhat sheepish.

  Jonathan waited another minute, but then he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What’s going on now?” he asked, feeling powerless.

  “We’re still waiting for the probe to get back,” Barrick replied. “Meanwhile, the Elk have sensed our deception, and are accelerating toward our position.”

  Jonathan missed the tactical display. The Dragonfly could generate a workable one, but not while it was locked up in the hangar bay.

  He tried to envision the layout of the battle space in his mind: the Talon near the Slipstream; the three Raakarr vessels approaching from the planetoid.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way we can interface our aReals with their computer systems to get some sort of battle space display going?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you,” Barrick said. “That our systems are incompatible. And even if we could somehow interface, their data is represented in a manner that only a Raakarr mind could understand. A three dimensional point cloud.”

  “But you can understand it,” Jonathan said.

  “I am unique.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Well, it was a nice dream.”

  A minute later Barrick announced: “The probe just returned... Otter says the Slipstream definitely leads to Prius 3 and not the Elder galaxy. There was no Gate there either, nor at the Slipstream to the next system. And once again there were two Raakarr comm node equivalents loitering by the entrance. Those have been taken care of. The probe also launched EMP pulses toward the farther Slipstream, to eliminate two more in orbit there.”

  Jonathan found himself momentarily speechless. Those should have been human comm nodes, not Raakarr. And the Gates should have been intact.

  “What?” was all he could manage.

  Apparently Barrick mistook his surprise for something else, because the telepath further explained: “I know what you’re thinking. The EMP is going to miss, because the positional information of the farther comm nodes is out of date. But trust me, even though the visual information from those two is more than twenty minutes old, Otter tells me their orbit is highly regular and predictable. The EMP pulse will hit them, a mere moment after the probe becomes apparent to their sensors.”

  “No no, the targeting isn’t my concern at all,” Jonathan said. Was Barrick simply pretending to misunderstand, so that Jonathan would believe the psi-shielding worked? “Those should have been human comm nodes there. And the Gates... they can’t be destroyed. Are you sure the probe wasn’t mistaken?”

  Barrick frowned behind his faceplate. “The probe has been programmed to differentiate between the heat signatures of human comm nodes and Raakarr, based on previous encounters, and data shared between the rest of the Raakarr fleet while the Talon was still with them. So the odds of the probe being mistaken are fairly slim.”

  “But if that’s true, that means...” Jonathan swallowed. “Tell me the colony on the second planet in orbit around the third sun is intact.”

  Prius 3 was a tertiary star system, with two suns in close proximity, and a third orbiting an average distance of nine hundred million kilometers from the other two. The satellites in orbit around the third sun were pseudo planets more than anything else. The United Systems had raised a dome colony on the second such planet, Prius 3A, which was a barren, atmosphereless world akin to Mercury, replete with light and dark sides.

  “The colony world is on the dark side, is it not?” Barrick asked.

  “Yes it is.”

  “Well,” Barrick continued. “The dark side is facing us. And according to Otter, the probe detected no indications of a surviving colony, at least not from the Slipstream opening.”

  “The probe has to be wrong,” Jonathan said flatly. That colony had once been home to more than two hundred thousand people. He ho
ped they had evacuated in time. Then again, if they had no warning...

  “Otter tells me there is debris in orbit,” Barrick replied.

  “Debris?”

  “Yes. The material is consistent with a United Systems vessel. Or two.”

  That would be the corvettes assigned to Prius 3A.

  “I don’t believe it.” Jonathan slumped slightly. He was counting on those corvettes to escort them deeper into United Systems space. “When we pass through, I want to launch our own telemetry drone immediately. I need to confirm the readings for myself.”

  “That will be difficult,” Barrick said.

  “Why?” Jonathan was growing more suspicious by the moment. “Valor is going to refuse?”

  “No,” Barrick replied. “There are mines outside the Slipstream endpoint.”

  “Mines?” Jonathan asked. “Of human make?”

  “No. Raakarr. Wait... I take that back. I had Otter clarify. They aren’t mines, but Raakarr fighters. Immune to the EMP weapon in the probe.”

  Jonathan still wasn’t sure he believed Barrick, but he supposed he had no other choice at the moment. “Valor can’t just launch a few disposable probes to clear a path on the other side, like we’ve seen the Raakarr do before?”

  “Not against fighters,” Barrick said. “But if they really were mines, then yes.”

  Jonathan regarded the telepath uncertainly. “This ship doesn’t carry any fighters?”

  “That is correct,” Barrick said.

  “The prison ship T300 was in control of several fighters when we first encountered it in the Elder galaxy,” Jonathan told him. “I don’t suppose the Talon can assume control of the waiting fighters?”

  “Apparently the probe already tried to do so,” Barrick said. “But the Elk changed something—I’m guessing the Raakarr equivalent of human authorization codes.”

  “Too bad. So how is Valor going to handle those fighters then?” If they’re real.

  “The particle cannon is charging as we speak,” Barrick explained. “Valor plans to fire the conical beam the instant we emerge on the other side. With luck we’ll take down most of the waiting fighters, assuming they haven’t moved too far from their previous positions, as recorded by the probe.”