"Such as they would require us to rewrite the laws of physics." Lewis added. "Council members, we need an answer now, yes or no. If no, the Home Fleet will remain in upper orbit. When the time come we will fight to defend this planet, but in my opinion we will probably fail. If yes, we will move beyond the Red Line in preparation for a jump to Alpha Centauri."
"Admiral as I understand it, this plan hinges on the Starship Dauntless." Leyland asked.
"That is correct mister Prime Minister."
"A ship that is over thirty years old."
"That is also correct." Lewis confirmed. "But that ship is currently under the command of Rear Admiral Emily Brian, our foremost advocate of carrier warfare. It is her presence that will make the difference."
"Council members, what is your decision?" Wingate asked.
Clifton looked up and down the table.
"Members in favour?" She asked quietly.
Three came out against, five in favour.
"Admiral Lewis, you have a go, and God help us if you’re wrong." Clifton said.
Chapter Seven
The Geriatrics
26th July 2066
Chris was scared, really, really scared. The rest of the crew probably were as well, but at least they had jobs to do, all Chris had was his fear. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he should be home, with his wife, enjoying the comforts of both. Not in some arse-end of nowhere star system, smack in the path of an alien war fleet.
This wasn’t the job he had come out here to do, in fact he’d actually already done his job. He’d been sent out to mediate a small dispute between the Chinese and American colonies on Landfall. Chris, along with the H Class courier that was his transport, had been on the way back to Earth when the message came through. Baden had been destroyed and the fleet scattered. They were ordered to make their way to an FTL relay station and await instructions. The captain had been confident that the order to hold position was just an instinctive reaction by fleet headquarters, and they would soon be ordered to get to Earth as fast as possible.
It was a good theory, problem was someone back on Earth wanted to try the diplomatic option. So instead they’d been ordered into the path of the alien fleet, to make contact, to open a dialogue, to stretch out the hand of friendship, etc, etc.
These aliens were predictable if nothing else. For some reason they’d touched base at every system between Landfall and Earth. They’d also made realspace re-entry in the same position relative to the local star. So that made getting into roughly the right position easier. Okay, good, focus on the positive. The alien would drop into the system and he, Chris Byrne, would extend the hand of friendship. If he pulled this off it would definitely be promotion time; hell it would be Nobel Peace Prize time.
On the other hand it could all go horribly runny and he would be right in the middle of it. If he’d wanted to get shot at by aliens for a living, he’d have joined Battlefleet, not the diplomatic service!
"Contact!"
Chris jumped and in the zero gravity environment of the courier bounced off the ceiling.
"Oh crap! I’m reading dozens of contacts all dead ahead! Range about two and a-half light seconds."
"Any sign they’ve spotted us?" The captain sounded cool, calm and collected. Chris immediately started to hate him.
"No, I’m getting nothing skipper."
"Okay then, time to wake them up. Mister Byrne, you’re up."
"Show time." Chris muttered in a voice that sounded far calmer than he felt. He leaned over the communication console and typed in a set of commands. "Sending greeting message now."
The captain gave a terse nod before addressing the helmsman quietly.
"Frankie, if they ain’t feeling chatty we’re going to have to get our arse out of here sharpish." The couriers jump drive had been kept spun up as they waited. Bad for the drive but Chris wasn’t about to complain.
Time crawled as they waited for a reply - any reply as the alien fleet was moving slowly towards them. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, twenty-five, thirty. Chris checked the communications console that it was definitely sending.
"Range now crossing through the one and half light seconds." The sensor operator reported.
"We can’t go in much closer." The captain muttered. "Byrne, once we hit the one light second mark I’m going to fire the thrusters and hold range."
Chris nodded.
"Do I look as if I’m about to start arguing? Do what you think best to protect the ship, captain. How long do you think that will it be?"
"If they hold velocity, about fifteen min…"
"Captain, I’m reading two new contacts from the fleet, their small and they’re turning towards… Oh Jesus! We have incoming!"
"Hell’s teeth! Helm execute jump out manoeuvres." The captain bellowed.
"Two missiles inbound, three minutes to impact!" The sensor operator screamed.
Chris clung to a support beam as the courier started to swing round. Behind him the engines started to rumble, in the bows the whine of the jump drive climbed in pitch. Astern the engines slammed into life. They had to build up enough forward motion before they could open a jump conduit, otherwise the portal would fatally close on the stern of the courier.
"Thirty seconds to impact!"
There were no orders being given on the bridge of the courier. No point now, it was a race between the accelerating courier and the approaching missiles.
"Ten seconds!"
"Five!"
A light on the helmsman console lit.
"Jump!" The captain screamed even as the helmsman’s finger stabbed down.
A hole in the face of the universe opened, consumed the ship and vanished even as the missiles flashed through the space the courier had occupied.
On the bridge of the courier there were nervous laughs and much patting of backs. For his own part Chris let out his breath explosively and released his death grip on the support beam. After a couple of minutes the captain called the bridge to order.
"Alright everyone settle down, helm, make best speed, communications, the second we make real space re-entry signal the relay station ‘Have make contact, peace proposals have not, repeat not, been reciprocated, send instructions.’" The captain turned to Chris. "Do you have any objections Mister Byrne?"
"No captain. I think diplomatic channels have been exhausted."
___________________________
"Is Commander Faith Willis in here?"
Willis looked up from the book she was failing to read. A petty officer was leaning in the hatch looking around the tiny compartment. She poked her head out from under the bunk above.
"PO, down here."
"Ma’am," The petty officer squatted down beside her floor level bunk, "a signal from headquarters has come up. You’re to report to Admiral Clarence on the StarForge III platform."
"When?"
"Right now ma’am. We’re prepping a shuttle to get you over there."
Willis rolled out of the bunk pulled on her jacket and picked up her pack.
"Alright, I’m ready."
The Crimson Star was a civilian transport chartered to carry personnel between Earth, Landfall and Baden. They had arrived at Earth only a few hours after the FTL transmission from Baden. Willis had already been roused from Deep Sleep and had been on Crimson Star’s bridge when they made realspace re-entry. Almost instantly they were pinged by radar. Even looking over someone’s shoulder, Willis recognised the profile of a type twenty three radar array. The targeting radar of a Myth Class heavy cruiser, locking onto them. She could only hold her breath waiting for the crash of plasma bolts striking the hull. But nothing happen, thousands of kilometres away someone realised the blip on their screen wasn’t a threat and held their fire. The civilian crew of Crimson Star remained oblivious to the near miss as the ship trundled into Earth orbit.
Only once in orbit did they finally hear what had happened at Baden. Crimson Star was ordered to take up an orbit out of the way, awake al
l the personnel from Deep Sleep and wait. With all the confusion down below, Headquarters wasn’t willing to bring people down that it might then decide it wanted in orbit. Now it would appear after a full day of cooling their heels the fleet was finally starting to get its act together. Not that she was really looking forward to the next posting. The most she hoped for was a distraction. Harbinger had been her first failure. Before that it had been an unbroken series of successes leaving her unaccustomed to anything else. The period in Deep Sleep had merely delayed a lot of brooding.
StarForge III was an early construction platform. Its small size rendered it obsolete for ship building decades ago, but it now served as an orbital administrative centre. When her shuttle docked at the platform a staff lieutenant and a rating were waiting for her.
"Commander if you want to follow me. Gemayel take the Commander’s belongings." The staff officer looked back to Willis. "There is a Luna shuttle waiting for you once you’re done with the admiral. If you’d like to follow me ma’am he’s waiting for you."
Willis passed her pack over and followed the officer without comment. A number of other officers were already waiting outside the admirals office but Willis was led straight in.
"Ah, Commander Willis, you’re here." Vice Admiral Clarence waved her towards a chair. "No, no, don’t bother with the saluting crap, just park yourself."
The admiral fiddled with his computer. Clarence was one of the fleets more distinctive flag officers. With a huge ginger moustache and an upper class English accent, the Vice Admiral looked and sounded like an escapee from the nineteen forties.
"Ah! Here we are." He declared pulling out a computer pad from the middle of the pile. "Right this is going to have to be quick since I’m up to my eyeballs trying to juggle crewing list. Headquarters, in its infinite wisdom and mercy, has ordered that we activate anything that even resembles a warship and make them combat worthy yesterday. Naturally that leaves yours truly trying to find crews to put in them. You’re getting command of the Hood." Clarence tossed the pad across the desk to land in her lap. Willis started to open the file then her brain caught up with her ears.
"I’m sorry, sir, did you say the Hood."
"Yes I did."
"Are you serious… sir?"
"Yes I am and yes I know. There’s a few hands already aboard trying to get her started but at this point I honestly don’t know what kind of shape she’s in." Replied Clarence with a shrug. "All the Red ships are to be recommissioned. We’re currently hunting around for tech manuals and spare parts but frankly don’t hold your breath waiting for either. I’m sorry I have to rush you, but look on the bright side Commander. Your first command, it’s always a big step forward. Just get it moving in some shape or form. Although I advise you to make sure the escape capsules are working. We’re not asking for miracles, just near miracles. So if there is nothing else?"
For a moment Willis considered taking here leave but the impulse to speak was too strong.
"Sir, my last captain didn’t feel I was ready for command." She wasn’t even sure herself why she raised the point. Was she honestly pointing out something her superiors had perhaps missed, trying to avoid an undesirable posting or did she no longer feel she was capable. In all honesty she didn’t know.
"Yes, I noticed that. I know Captain Flores personally, he’s usually pretty restrained in his report writing. You must have seriously made a balls of things out there. My problem Commander is with so much of the fleet out on the summer manoeuvres, there aren’t many line officers with enough experience kicking around. So even if Marko had said you were a blithering idiot, you’d still be getting this posting. There is a shuttle standing by to take you out to her. Now unless you have something really interesting to say, you’re dismissed Commander."
"Yes, sir." Willis moved to leave but as she reached the hatch the Admiral spoke again.
"Oh Commander, good luck."
The shuttle was already half full of junior officers, petty officers and ratings. A staff officer was waiting at the airlock with a clipboard. He ticked her off his list as she showed him her orders.
"Are any of these mine?" Willis asked waving her hand toward the shuttle seating.
"No," he shook his head, "we put the first lot onto Hood this morning. I think the old man is still trying to figure out the rest of your roster. Unfortunately, the Amber ships have swallowed most of the available reservists, you’re going to be getting basically whatever’s left."
"Thank you. I really needed to hear that." She replied sourly.
"Sorry. You’ll be getting underway in a minute, we’re just waiting for someone else who’s just received a surprise posting so you’d better take a seat."
Willis took a seat near the front where she could see into the cockpit and out through its view port. Astern there was a clatter from the airlock as someone scrambled through and the hatch was closed behind them.
"Faith?"
Willis looked up, into a familiar face.
"Vincent? Where did you come from?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Move up."
She pulled herself into the next seat. Commander Vincent Espey was an improbable looking officer. With his dyed blond hair and permanent tan he looked more like a surfer dude than anything else.
"Last I heard, you were still on Harbinger." He said as he clipped in.
"I left." Willis replied shortly. "I wasn’t expecting to see you either."
"Two days ago I was working on my tan on a Florida beach. Next thing I’m being lobbed onto a shuttle and told that I’m the new C.O. of the fusion powered antique Hurricane!"
"The Hood." Willis replied.
"Ouch." Vincent said. "Gone from one of the newest ships to damn near the oldest."
"Thanks for the reminder, Vince." She replied sourly.
Unnoticed the shuttle had pushed itself with thrusters far enough from StarForge III to fire the main engines. The passenger seating all rolled through ninety degrees to make the G forces more comfortable.
Their conversation continued but every time it strayed towards her most recent posting, Willis changed the subject. Most people wouldn’t have noticed but there weren’t many people who knew her better than Vincent. They had entered the fleet in the same academy intake, and with similar interests found themselves in a lot of the same classes. Slowly they became friends, and later, a couple. They made for a odd partnership, the socially uncomfortable Willis and Vincent, the life and soul of the party. Their first ship postings though had brought it to an end. They found themselves on ships going in opposite directions. They tried to keep the relationship going, but finally Willis sat down and worked out that in two years they had spent less than a full week in the same solar system together. By mutual consent they ended it but Willis always looked forward to the occasions when their paths crossed.
"Faithie, why are you avoiding talking about Harbinger?" He said eventually.
Willis gave a half laugh.
"I’m not avoiding it, just not a lot to say."
"Not a lot to say?" Vincent looked sceptical. "Faithie, you were there when they found a depopulated planet. The biggest story in, what? Ten years? And you’re trying to tell me there isn’t a lot to say? What happened really?"
Willis stared fixedly in front of her.
"I got given the boot Vince." She said quietly. "I blew it, I really blew it out there."
"How?"
"According to the skipper I was the cause of friction." She gave a short bitter laugh. "For all he knows he saved my life. I’ve been recommended as not yet suitable for command status. Yet here I am about to take command of a ship. At least they’re not wasting a good one on me." She finished bitterly. She glanced sideways. Vincent was watching her with a worried expression.
"Faithie…"
"I honestly thought… I thought… I thought I was doing a good job. Well I obviously thought wrong."
"Faith, don’t do this to yourself." Vincent asked gently.
"Faith, I’m talking to you as a friend here." He said. "You’ve never been that good with people for as long as I’ve known you. You’re always a bit too sharp. If people aren’t doing things your way then they’re doing it wrong. The tech stuff, the tactical stuff, they came to you pretty easy but people you’re gonna have to work on. It’s a bummer but that’s life. Hood might be a relic, hell Hood is a relic, but it’s a chance to show you can handle the big seat. So chin up, just remember, think, don’t snap."
"You’ve always been a good shoulder to cry on." She said eventually.
"Uniform cut from special absorbent material, it gives me the edge for shoulder duties." He replied his face returning to its usual grin. "Now if you want to talk sob stories we can talk about our commands. I know sure as hell I’m not getting aboard Hurricane without my survival suit on."
The ships of the fleet were divided into three status categories. Green ships were those vessels commissioned and active. Amber ships were decommissioned but still manned by small maintenance crews. Finally there were the Red ships, decommissioned, pushed into lunar orbit and basically left to gather dust. Given that the fleet was barely thirty years old there wasn’t much in the Red fleet and currently its ranks were made up exclusively of first generation ships.
Those ships had been built at a time when humanity could barely construct starships at all. With the underlying science simply not understood, they were obliged to blindly copy most of the key systems from the Aèllr ship that force landed in Ireland. The resulting ships had been inefficient, unreliable and clumsy. But it had been enough.
Hood was the oldest of the Red ships, an Admiral class cruiser and the only one of that class to survive the Contact War. The design had been something of a failure even back then, but now, thirty years on, the small elderly cruiser might be about to reclaim her place in the battleline.
The Nameless War Page 17
