“OK,” said the superbeing, his own voice slightly agitated at being caught in a subterfuge. “Just talk. Since you have about four hours before you’ll be ready to engage the enemy again. So let us go over some history of space warfare. And just maybe you will see the wisdom of my suggestions.”
“I’m all ears,” said Pandi, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “Enlighten me.”
* * *
“What in the hell was that?” yelled Admiral Miklas Gerasi as the Orca bucked from hits from particle beams.
“Eat shit, you xenophobe motherfuckers,” came a voice over the grav wave receiver, following by a high pitched warbling yell.
There were shocked looking faces all over the large control room. It was impossible to attack a ship while it was in Alcubierre drive. Wasn’t it? But something sure had. It would take computer and targeting tech like they could only imagine to do what had been done to them. And so we didn’t get the best the station had to offer, thought the Admiral, shaking his head and determining that the Nation of Humanity needed that tech if they were to realize their plans of Galactic conquest. And of course they had used some kind of inertial bubble drive to catch his force, with accel and decel that also weren’t to be believed. How do they get rid of that heat? thought Gerasi, looking back at the main viewer. Wormholes? That’s got to be it.
“It was a ship of some kind,” called out the Tactical Officer, looking at his instruments, a look of shock still etched on his face.
“A warship?” asked Captain Lashan, his eyes wide as he looked first to the Tactical Officer, then to the Admiral.
“Too small for any kind of warship I’ve heard of,” said the Tactical Officer, looking at his holo screen.
“What did they do to the rest of the force?” asked the Captain in a panicked voice.
“Be kind of hard to tell what they did while moving in hyper,” said the Admiral, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his Flag Captain.
“But, if we drop back to normal space and they come back,” said the man, sweat breaking on his brow.
“Do you have a fix on that ship?” the Admiral asked the Tactical Officer.
“As best I can, given our pseudo-velocity,” said the man. “She moving away, decelerating at two thousand gravities, and curving her vector. Best guess is that she’s moving to attack the second task force when they come back to normal space.”
“There you have it, Captain,” said the Admiral, giving a man he now thought of as a coward a sneer. “Please drop out of Alcubierre, and give us a look at what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Captain, giving the order to the helm. Within moments the stars to front and rear returned to normal as the ship stopped dead in space.
“Send a signal on a tight beam to the other force,” ordered the admiral. “Hopefully they’ll get it when they come back to normal space.”
“If the enemy doesn’t hit them first,” said the Tactical Officer, shaking his head.
“We’ll just have to pray that doesn’t happen,” said the Admiral, “and adjust our plans as if it will.”
“And who in the hell was that on that ship?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking around the bridge. “The language sounded kind of familiar. And that yell at the end.”
“Feeding it into the translator now,” said the Com Officer, working his board. “OK, wait a second.”
“There is small particle debris behind us,” called out one of the sensor techs. The viewer switched to behind, where the tactical display showed a radar image of a cloud of fragments swiftly expanding.
“We also have two ships motionless in space behind us,” called out another tech, and the viewer switched from first a ship sitting lifeless against the mass of stars in backdrop, to one that was a swarm of people and robots frantically making repairs.
“I have a match on the language,” said the Com Officer, looking up from his board. “Colloquial English, circa 2100, old Earth.”
“No wonder it sounded so familiar,” said the Captain, nodding his head.
Yes¸ thought Gerasi, nodding. English had been the language of the Old Empire, the one that had fallen over five thousand years before. The Nation’s own language was based on it, though it had diverged quite a bit since the fall.
“Computer thinks the speaker originated in the Southern United States, as that Empire was called.”
“Amazing,” said the Admiral, looking at a viewer that was showing a picture of the enemy ship on closest approach. “And that yell she let out.”
“No references in the data banks,” said the com. “Frightening though, when coming from something streaking by at point seven light. And I’m receiving a transmission from Manta. She suffered superficial damage to the ship, but major to her drive. They are expediting repairs.”
“And what about the other ship?”
“Skate, sir,” said the tech, looking at the viewer, which was back with a view of the ship dead in space. “Major damage and casualties, but her Captain thinks he can get her moving again in a day or so.”
A day or so, thought the Admiral. “I’d hoped to be out of this area and back to the base in less time than that. So should I leave someone behind to protect her, or just take the crew off and scuttle?
“Where do you think she came from?” asked the Captain, interrupting the Admiral’s train of thought.
Valaris Midas would not have interrupted my thoughts. The Admiral shot a glare at the Flag Captain, while remembering that a good command team was like a marriage. And he couldn’t see this one ending in any other manner than divorce.
“She came from the Donut,” growled Gerasi at his subordinate, with a look that told the man his Admiral thought him an idiot. “Where the hell else do you think she came from, with that kind of tech?”
“Then maybe we should attack the station,” said the Captain, squaring his shoulders and trying to look brave.
Gerasi shook his head in disgust and turned away from the officer. He thought of the attack he had carried out on the huge station two years before. The thing was so large that he was sure he could do no critical damage to it. And it had weapons that could wipe out his fleet, if given a chance. He had barely been able to get in close and board using a ruse, to capture what he needed and go. Losing almost half his ships and over half his crew in the process.
“No,” he said, turning back to his Flag Captain. “We will not be attacking that thing while I am here. We will operate out here on the fringes.”
“And if they send more ships?”
“If they had them, or the crew to man them, I think we would have been swarmed under. Com,” he said, walking up behind the com tech. “Give Manta orders to stay with Skate. She is to escort her sister back to base when both are capable. Meanwhile,” he said, walking back to his chair, “get us underway and catch up to the fleet.”
The Helm looked back at the Captain, waiting for the order to come through the chain of command.
“You heard the man,” said the Captain, plopping down in his own chair. “Engage the drive.”
The helmsman nodded and turned back to his board. Ahead a hole of darkness grew as the drive swallowed up space before the photons riding on it could reach the ship. And behind a lesser darkness grew as Orca outran the pursuing photons.
Chapter Five
Nation of Humanity Directive 4655-1. Orders to the Fleet. You are directed to move your ships to the vicinity of Galactic Coordinates 00:00:00, and there to take control of all inhabitable worlds in the location known as the Supersystem. After taking control you are to eliminate all non-humans from all inhabitable worlds with dispatch. Said aliens may be used in construction projects and other work as deemed necessary, as long as the final result is their termination, that the worlds of the Supersystem may become fit habitations for humanity. Office of the Church of Humanity.
“Unknown ships appearing to starboard,” called out the Tactical Officer.
“What the hell,” cursed Fleet
Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, sitting up in his bed and jumping to the floor. He left his day cabin still in his casual uniform, boots left behind on the floor near the bed.
“Red alert,” called out the voice of the ship’s computer over the intercom.
“What do we have?” asked the Admiral, walking onto his flag bridge.
“Twelve ships just appeared out of nowhere,” said Lieutenant Commander Klish, the Flag Officer, gesturing toward the screen. “They appear to be Nation battleships. Range, twelve light seconds.”
They could have come in a lot closer, thought the Admiral, studying the twelve ships that were accelerating toward him in normal space. We couldn’t have seen them coming in with that damned drive of theirs.
Alcubierre drive was dangerous, and ships could not see what was in front of them while they were using it. It was especially hazardous when initiating combat, as a ship was likely to drop out of drive to find itself surrounded. The inertialess warp bubble drive the Kingdom of Surya used was a lot safer, and they could actually see what was around them while in the drive. Added to that was the fact that the warp bubble drive could get a ship up to a much greater velocity than the Alcubierre, though it took time to accelerate up to any kind of useful star travelling velocity. The Alcubierre could go from a standing stop to pseudo hyper-light in an instant.
“All ships report weapons hot and drives ready,” said the Com Officer from her station.
“Well, that’s a relief,” said the Admiral with a grin, knowing he would have the hide of any captain who had not been able to get his ship ready for combat. He studied the formation of the enemy ships, which had come in a wall formation, probably so none would endanger another when their space destroying drives were active. He had the same number of vessels, of approximately similar size and armaments. He could maneuver much quicker than they could, but they could, under the proper circumstances, escape using their hyper capabilities.
“Why did they come in from this angle?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking up from her board. “They could have made a straight vector attack from their base system, and we still wouldn’t have seen them coming.”
“I wonder,” said the Admiral, his eyes locked on the viewer. “Do you fanatics play some game, to catch me unawares? Then why turn off your drives at such a distance, when you sure could have come in closer.”
“They’re firing,” yelled the Tactical Officer. The lasers hit just before she spoke, the particle beams not long after, while the images of missiles leaving the enemy ships appeared among those vessels ten seconds later.
The Admiral had to admit that their fire control was very good if they could unleash all their weapons systems in such a short span. Then there was no time for admiration. “All ships, open fire,” he called out, watching as the missiles moved his way. The Danaus shook as she accelerated missiles from her tubes. Moments later the bright circles of fusion fire shown on the screen as the missiles sped toward the enemy.
“We have one hundred and twenty inbound,” called out the Tactical Officer. “Same number outbound. Wait. Two forty inbound. We’re firing another spread to match them.”
“Why did they commit to a slugging match,” said the Admiral under his breath. “It makes no sense.” The best strategy for an equally matched enemy would have been to take him on near their own station, where they would receive the support. Instead, the Suryan station would soon open fire, and the enemy would be outgunned by a slight margin. And a slight margin was all that was needed in space.
“We have more ships,” yelled out the Tactical Officer. “Coming in from astern at nine light seconds.”
“Dammit,” cursed the Admiral as the equation of battle flipped in his mind. Now he was significantly outnumbered, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it but fight and die. “Target those ships with missiles, and continue to concentrate on that first group with the lasers and particle beams.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Tactical Officer in a voice that held little hope.
What else can we do? thought the commander of the Surya task force. He wouldn’t surrender his people to those fanatics. That would be a fate worse than death. So death was the only choice.
* * *
“We have them,” called out Captain Dimi Lashan when the task force came out of Alcubierre drive. The image of the enemy force, and the friendly force beyond them, was centered on the screen. The enemy space station was to the left side of the viewer, just above the rounded outline of the world it orbited.
“It would seem so,” said Admiral Gerasi, standing in front of the view with his hands behind his back. He was in full battle armor, as were all the members of the crew, but his helmet was still on the attachment of his seat back. He saw no use in being uncomfortable during the approach, but now they were about to enter combat, and the Admiral hurried back to his seat, which was configuring itself into an acceleration couch.
“Attack plan Delta,” he ordered as he lay back on the couch and readied himself for something he didn’t like.
“Attack plan Delta, aye,” called out the Tactical Officer and Helmsman at the same time.
The acceleration cut in, first a gee, then several, then building up. The Nation’s inertial compensators were still primitive, though much more advanced than prior to the looting of the Donut. Only able at this point to handle about twenty gravities, the excess weight still piled up, and the Admiral found himself gasping for air as the force of eight gravities pushed him back in the chair. The enemy could pull many more with their inertialess drive, but not enough to get away from his already high velocity ships. So he was confident enough in the capabilities of his force.
“Missiles firing,” croaked the Tactical Officer through lungs that barely functioned. “It’s back,” called out the Tactical Officer a moment later, and Gerasi pulled himself up enough to look at the screen, where the vector arrow of their recent visitor was showing, pointing right at his other task force.
* * *
“What the hell is that,” yelled out the Tactical Officer of the Danaus, pointing at the viewer. A vector arrow just appeared on the screen, about three hundred thousand kilometers from the Nation task force to their front. More vector arrows appeared on the screen, a quartet, all accelerating at impossible rates toward the enemy. One hit a ship dead center, and the large battleship broke up in the massive explosion. The other three were intercepted before striking their targets, computers and lasers able to compensate for the swift motion of the incoming weapons. One detonated close enough to one of the Nation warships to cause considerable damage. One more Nation ship flared in several places and started a tumble in space away from its companions, hit by light amp or particle beam weapons. Within six seconds the space ship had passed the Nation task force and was accelerating away.
“She’s traveling over fifty thousand KPS,” called out the Tactical Officer in a disbelieving voice. The incoming laser and particle beam fire from the Nation ships had ceased as they tried to hit the darting, weaving enemy that was heading away from them. “And decelerating at three thousand gravities.”
“Three thousand gravities,” yelled out the Helm, her voice rising. “That’s impossible.”
“Not for the Ancestors,” said the Admiral. “How long till she kills her velocity and comes back?”
“Twenty seven minutes to kill her velocity,” said the Navigator, fingers flying over his board. “Another twenty seven to return.”
“So they’re out of the fight for the next hour or so,” said the Admiral, looking at the enemy ships. “And we’re still in it.”
* * *
“The damned thing disappeared,” yelled the Tactical Officer on board the flagship Dolphin.
“How?’ yelled back Commodore Valaris Midas, who was now the task force commander with the complete destruction of the battleship Eel with all hands. And one of the ships in his own division was drifting in space after the near miss by another weapon.
“I have no idea,
Commodore,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders. “They have some incredible stealth for us to have missed them coming in. But we had a good track and lock on her leaving. We should still be seeing her.”
And that was what the Admiral was trying to warn us about, thought the Commodore, remembering the garbled grav wave message that had appeared on their com system as soon as they came out of Alcubierre. Of course the warning didn’t really match the reality.
“Another message coming in from the Admiral,” called out the Com Tech, and then Gerasi’s face was back on the screen.
“That ship is extremely dangerous,” said the Admiral, his eyes blazing out of the screen. “Take all caution, and use all resources to destroy it.”
“Acknowledged,” said Midas, knowing that his words would take twenty seconds to reach the Admiral. “We…”
“She’s back,” yelled the Tactical Officer, and Midas looked over to the side viewer to see that the red vector arrow had reappeared. And another four smaller arrows had separated and were moving toward his force.
“How in the Hells did she do that?” yelled Midas, watching as vector arrows left his task force and crawled toward the enemy with pitiful velocity numbers beneath them. The incoming missiles had numbers that were anything but pitiful, moving at fifty thousand kilometers a second while pulling thirty thousand gravities of acceleration.
“All ships,” he yelled, hoping that his order would actually mean something. “All weapons fire at those missiles.”
Fast they might be, but the battleships could still track them, and lasers could still intersect them. Those beams struck out at light speed, and missed as the missiles started moving in evasive patterns, while strong jamming blanked the tracking systems.
“What the Hells,” yelled Midas, seeing the tactical screen turn to a mass of static, with the red vector arrows of missiles jumping all over the place.
By chance one of the lasers still struck a missile, and it turned into an expanding pinpoint of eye hurting brilliance. Another missile got struck in the blast and detonated as well. That left two still heading for a target, and fortunately for the Nation task force they both picked on the same ship. Either warhead would have demolished that battleship. Two doubly demolished it, which meant naught to the men who died. They really didn’t care if they were blown to molecules or to atoms. The effect to them was the same.
To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well) Page 5
