Waking the Sleeping Giant: The First Terran Interstellar War 2 (Founding of the Federation Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

  One such problem was a ghoulish one. In order for a part of the process to work effectively, they had to take the recently deceased brain, freeze it carefully, then slice it, scan each slice, then reassemble the pieces. There was a bit of error involved in the process, so much so that they had yet to get a perfect copy.

  “Are we still on for the next subject?” he asked.

  She grimaced and then nodded. They had no shortage of people volunteering to try the process. They only accepted terminally ill patients however and only those with no brain problems. So far they hadn't had a single success. It was disheartening to see each hopeful person go into the process … be cut up like so much meat, only for a randomized neural network to appear on the other end. Something was missing, that spark of consciousness.

  Or they just weren't making the right neural connections, Trevor mused. “Any ideas on getting a better scan resolution?” he asked.

  Cassie shook her head. “We're down to almost the molecular level, Doctor. In order to go further, we need nanotech, but it's been banned. The last four requests have been kicked back to us.”

  “Then we'll try a fifth request. Or hell, I'll do it anyway, and they can kiss my virtual ass,” Trevor grumbled as he wheeled himself into his office.

  (@)()(@)

  The media was constantly on the lookout for new fresh intrigue. A reporter received a series of tips about a black genetic engineering project on par with Lagroose Industry's Neo project. Pavilion Genetics was known for being secretive, so the investigative reporter pulled out all the stops to break into their black site and get a good hard look at what they were up to.

  The reporter got more than she bargained for with the company project. She managed to steal enough data and take enough images for her editor before she left the building. She narrowly got away with her story but not before the company police became involved. She went to the habitat's office of the CBI in order to get clear of the company cops.

  When she told the story, she began with the sensational bits about how the company cops had tried to catch or kill her. That plus some video footage of the cops chasing her on public roads lending credence to her story escalated the story to system-wide status overnight.

  Pavilion Genetics held its own news conference defending its actions and downplaying the action of the company cops as being in hot pursuit of someone who had violated their security. As the story grew however, they were forced to acknowledge some of the reporter's story. Within a day they were forced to come clear for the CBI agents dispatched by the CBI director. The company went on the record with the introduction of a new super-soldier concept, their Navy variant.

  That got the attention of Admiral Lewis and Doctor Irons and the navy since the navy hadn't ordered any such concept. At the news conference, a pair of public affairs representatives introduced tall gangly high elves, along with a new breed of selkie, along with a final heavy worlder variant. “Each of them are chimeras of course but built from their DNA up,” the woman said indicating the blue-skinned high elf. The elf easily towered over her. She had long pointed ears that nearly wrapped around her head. Her eyes were cat-like with slitted pupils. Her nose was slightly flattened. She had long delicate looking limbs and long fingers.

  “I'm having a hard time understanding why anyone would do that to another species let alone the human genome. And tall? Bird bones?” Doctor Irons murmured as he crossed his arms.

  “I'm wondering the same thing,” Admiral Lewis stated. His office was already being swamped by the media, CBI, and members of Congress demanding answers. He'd already put out a blunt statement denying the Navy had any knowledge or involvement in the program.

  It couldn't come at a worse time. They had the new appropriations on the billet. The super carrier, dreadnaught, and a new weapon design were all in the balance. Any sort of scandal would tie him up for weeks in hearings and such; a delay they didn't need. There was growing resistance to expanding the navy but nothing being made public. It was more along the lines of people complaining about the need to balance the budget and muttering darkly about deficit spending.

  He understood them in theory. But the last talks had delayed the beginning of construction of the first battle cruiser and battleship lines by months. The first prototypes of each class were still only half built.

  He wondered briefly if Pavilion had done it all intentionally but then set that thought aside.

  There was an immediate scandal brewing since the company had been denied authorization to create the new species but also because all of the breeds were wholly human in form.

  “Batten down the hatches,” Doctor Irons said as he noted a blinking icon on the wall screen.

  “It's the president,” Admiral Lewis said. “Something tells me I'd love to have that ansible here right about now,” he grumbled.

  “True,” Seanex replied as the president's image came on the view screen. “Mister President.”

  “Sir,” Admiral Lewis said, coming to attention.

  “Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” President Camp demanded. Both men winced. “I don't remember ever authorizing that, let alone reading a briefing about it.”

  Admiral Lewis waited until the president wound down before he started in. He knew it would take eight minutes for his message to get to the Neochimp commander in chief.

  “Well, sir, it's simply this. We didn't authorize or condone this. We had no knowledge or need. I don't know whose bright idea it is, but I'll go to the mat and prove I didn't sign off on it. I doubt Roman did either. Which means for whatever reason, Pavilion went off on their own. Why is a big question.”

  Sixteen minutes later the president's image grunted and then nodded. “Okay. Send me what you've got. We'll let the press know. Make sure you do the same, and before you say anything, make sure that our messages match.”

  “Yes, sir,” both men said in unison.

  “And find out if there are any other shenanigans going on. I don't want to be caught with my pants down again,” the president growled.

  “Understood, sir,” the admiral said as the channel cut. Apparently, the president hadn't waited for his response. He turned to Seanex.

  Seanex spread his hands in supplication. “Not my department?” he asked weakly. The admiral shook his head and then sighed.

  Chapter 20

  June 2239

  Hyperbridge exit near B-92c in the Rho sector.

  Dreamer wrapped up his latest project, the first Tauren plasma missile. He closed the access panel and then screwed the lid shut. He ran a hand coquettishly over the cylindrical device. He was quite proud of the herd's achievement. His contribution might make the difference in the long run.

  His engineers had taken the nuclear-shaped charge one step further he thought as he attached the winch and then stepped back to allow a weapons tech to lift the device out of the assembly jig and cradle and then on to a cart to move to the magazine. Finding material to make nuclear warheads had been difficult but not impossible. The hardest ingredient had been the explosives surprisingly enough. They had taken a lot from the security bull's armories and then reshaped them to their new purpose.

  He had been allowed one field test of the nuclear warhead, but not the shaped warhead. It had worked nicely, though not as efficient as those he had seen. No matter.

  One of the techs had hit upon the idea of putting a tank of used plasma in front of the warhead. The tank's content was under pressure in a tight cylinder with a coating of carbon-carbon to help keep it together for a brief period during detonation.

  The theory was that the nuclear wave front would force an injection of superheated plasma into the bowls of the enemy ship, gutting it.

  He was confident it would work, but the Alpha bull had refused to allow him a critical field test since he only had a few prototypes. That would change soon as the machine shops in some of the new arrivals switched to making their own warheads and missiles.

  One of the annoying things t
he Alpha bull had ordered was for his team to find out how the aliens, the Terrans, had defenders. It wasn't like they had enough to do as it was, but an order was an order. He had gone over the copy of the database from the captured colony ship several times before he'd realized a coding tech had compressed the historical record. The computers were running much faster and they had more room in memory, but he was still only allowed a small portion of the record to explore.

  He focused on the past eight of eight years. He found out some marvelous but extremely troubling things. For one, the Terrans seemed to love war. They had games of war, both electronic and in the field in various forms. They practiced war on the sea and land and seemed quite good at it. They were adapting to war in space, but apparently, they had simulated it many times over the past century.

  That didn't bode well for the herd.

  Most troubling of all was a mention of their last Great War less than four eights in the past. According to what he had translated, they had tampered with the forbidden and had unleashed a machine war on their own kind that had nearly exterminated them.

  When he had presented that to the Alpha bull, he had sparked consternation and shock in him and the other herd leaders. It had sparked a lot of conversations. It had also exposed Dreamer and the coders to cyber warfare, a concept they were still grappling with. That someone could send a malicious file to another computer and turn it against its own user was terrifying. The coders were hard at work finding ways to combat that scenario.

  More was to come; the Terrans had no contact with the Forerunners and were new to starflight. They had also done something to the colony worlds they occupied, something called terraforming, which the translation matrix he had created balked at translating properly. It was most vexing, but it was a side concern.

  (@)()(@)

  Vice Admiral Jan Kepler nodded as she listened to reports of the task force exiting hyperspace. She waited with baited breath as the navigators checked their calculations.

  “We're about two light days out, ma'am,” Ensign Lex interpreted from the cetacean navigator.

  “Excellent work,” she replied with a nod of approval.

  “Long-range sensors are still clearing, ma'am. It will be a few minutes before we get better returns. Nothing is on the scope at this time,” the A.I. reported.

  “Good,” Jan said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs before her. She knew it wouldn't last; the hyper wake pulse would be racing across the star system at light speed, far faster than her task force. It would give any waiting ships a warning of their arrival she knew. She had wanted to time it so a planet or star obstructed their arrival pulse, but there wasn't one conveniently nearby on the vector they had come in on. Pity about that.

  Still, the enemy's sensor resolution was reportedly poor at ranges beyond a light day. She might get away with sneaking in, though she couldn't take surprise for granted until they got into range and saw any reaction from the enemy force.

  Fingers crossed this works, she thought to herself.

  “Scopes are picking up signatures of Tauren ships, ma'am. They are there as of two days ago,” CIC reported.

  “So, they did lay in an ambush,” Commander Krenshaw murmured in appreciation. She stared at the screen, but the resolution was still poor to make out individual ships. That CIC had identified any at all so soon was a credit to them … and the people who had written the software they were using.

  “It looks like you called it on the money, ma'am,” Commander Oh agreed with a nod.

  “Glad you didn't bet in the pool, Willard?” Jan asked with a brief smile. The commander rolled his eyes in response. She shook her head. “Let's not pat ourselves on the back too hard,” Jan said. “This is just step one. We need to see if we can engage them or if they've been reinforced.”

  She privately hoped they hadn't but couldn't risk the task force without confirmation either way. She had almost the same force mix she'd had in the ambush two years ago, but now the tables were turned. The enemy might have wounded ships, but they'd had years to make good on what repairs they could.

  “I'm betting they bounced out the scout support ships. Where they went is a good question,” Willard said.

  “True, but it can wait,” Jan said, eyes on the enemy fleet. The resolution was improving as CIC overlaid the various passive sensors readings to pick out individual ships. They were still a blob, but from the thermal image scan, they could make out some of the larger ships.

  Whether they were the ships that she'd chased out of Altair or not was another question, Jan thought. Did they have the reserve to leave their least wounded behind with and then send their cripples back to their nearest shipyard for repairs? She wasn't certain.

  She had a small force; somewhat pathetic in comparison to the ships she was stalking. Her flagship carrier Lexington had been joined by her sister ships Ark Royal, and Concord as well as one of the new escort carriers, Shinyo.

  The cruisers Republic, Allegiance, Apollo, and Maya were her largest conventional warships. Their force was surrounded by a flotilla of sixteen destroyers. At the rear, she had four support ships, one of which was a mobile shipyard, as well as six small but fast dispatch ships.

  She was tempted to leave the fleet train behind, but didn't want to divide her forces. No, she decided to stay together as the fleet crept inward.

  It had taken a lot of effort to get Walter and the administration to sign off on her mission. Technically, she wasn't suppose to engage forces above her own weight, but that would have meant not engaging anyone. She had no intention of running away every time she saw the enemy. They were in the sector to throw a monkey wrench into the enemy's plans and push them back. Fear was a great motivator, and no one could out bluff her at the poker table. The Taurens knew they could be beaten and were running scared. Pushing them back might look tough, but she intended to do that very thing.

  (@)()(@)

  Lieutenant Roger Daringer was nervous and excited by the upcoming engagement, but he did his best not to radiate it to the crew. Not that he was fooling anyone, least of all the skipper. She was radiating calm and serenity as she sipped at her tea and pursued the latest round of reports and logs.

  Which was what he should be doing, Roger thought guiltily as he pulled up the relevant files. He was the XO after all, Galahad needed a steady hand. Besides, burying himself in work would help him get over some of the jitters and set the example to the crew.

  At least, he hoped so at any rate.

  (@)()(@)

  Lieutenant Commander turned ship's Captain Jody Gomez sipped at her tea as she watched the officers in the wardroom with hooded eyes. Technically, she didn't need to be there; she had an office. But she liked to put herself out there for the crew from time to time, and she needed the occasional change of scenery. Besides, Galahad's captain's office was a closet. Whoever in BUSHIPS who had thought that the closet-sized room was the right size should be locked in the room for a couple of days in order to rethink its dimensions carefully. Not that there was a lot of room to spare in the destroyer. Every millimeter was used for something or in some cases several somethings.

  She'd harbored her doubts about her new XO; he was young—very damn young. It had been hard for some of the older crew to take him seriously initially. But he'd settled in, and he knew when and when not to throw his weight around. He knew the tactical side forwards and backwards, which had impressed her and the crew. He might not like the paperwork side, only a masochist or a yeoman did, but he was a hard worker. He still needed a bit of seasoning though; she could tell he had the jitters. That was odd. She had missed the battle of Sol but he'd participated in it.

  (@)()(@)

  Commander Adrienne Hatfield was in something of a pickle. She was the senior CAG in the task force, but apparently, some parties didn't know or care. She was also the CAG on the flagship … which was being used against her. The other CAGS had started to whine about whose wing would get first crack within hours of their exit
from hyperspace.

  That was tough for them. Her wing had the most veterans in it. Granted, they were limited to six of the crews, most of which were her and the squadron commanders, but that was enough in her book. Let the noobs watch and learn from the experts she thought.

  “Okay people. We've got a couple more sims to run,” she said, looking out at her pilots. There wasn't a groan or sound in the compartment. That was good; they knew better. “CIC is feeding us the data they've cleaned up as they get it, so it will be in the sim package along with any surprises Commander Krenshaw or the admiral decide to throw our way.”

  That little statement did earn a collective groan. She smiled ever so briefly before her face returned to an impassive mask. “Can it. You know it's good for you, so take your medicine. We need to get this off right, not come in fat dumb and happy and get our asses shot off. Kapeesh?” she growled.

  Heads bobbed in a series of nods.

  She scanned the group and then nodded once herself. “Good. We're going to be running the sim in concert with the other wings. Lex is setting up the Wi-Fi through the ship's whisker lasers now.”

  “Already done,” Ensign Lex stated from the overhead.

  Adrienne looked up to the overhead and pursed her lips hard to fight a frown from appearing. “Okay, it's done, so let's get this briefing done so we can kick some virtual butt. The wing with the most averaged points gets the gold star of the day, and I intend it to be us,” she said, tapping the podium meaningfully. “If it's not there will be hell to pay.”

  She waited a long moment to make sure that sunk in. Finally, she nodded. “Okay then. Here is how it is going to go down …”

  (@)()(@)

  Lieutenant Kenneth Lewis was happy to be where he was at, on Concord and not stuck back in Sol in some training billet. He had lucked out; his sister had been stuck behind in home fleet. He didn't envy her. They both knew their father was to blame for her assignment.