“I don’t think so, sir,” Jackson said. “A warning would indicate a desire to communicate on some level, something the Phage have never shown any indication of.”
“What are you thinking, Captain?” Pitt asked.
“Since we can agree that there was no strategic or symbolic reason to destroy Xi’an, the only other thing that makes any sense is that this was a weapons test,” Jackson held up his hand as both his superiors attempted to argue the point. “I know that there were two other rocky planets in the Zulu System, so what we don’t know is: why drag three Charlies all the way to Xi’an for a live fire exercise.”
“That’s quite a lot of unknowns, Captain,” Pitt said sourly. “Let’s put the conjecture aside for a moment until the rest of the science team gets here. What we need to do immediately is determine what our answer will be.”
“Admiral, perhaps I’m not the person most qualified to be in on discussions of—”
“Wolfe, your modesty might be a big hit with the review boards, but right now, I need you to shut up and get to work,” Pitt growled. The man was not known for his subtlety.
“Yes, Admiral,” Jackson said. “Can we get a clear view of the Charlies after the debris cloud had dispersed a bit more?”
“At once, Captain,” the specialist working the terminal said. “The drone stopped recording and sent it to Haven soon after the attack, so it won’t be much.”
“Just give me what you have.” Jackson leaned in on the table.
The best he could get from the truncated sensor feed was a few thermal stills, but it showed him that what he suspected about the Charlies was true. It also showed that Xi’an wasn’t completely destroyed. While greatly reduced in mass, the thermal images clearly showed a cooling, irregular ball of molten iron and nickel that had been under the miles of crust and upper mantle before the Phage ships had blasted them away. Jackson switched through the images rapidly, going back and forth to verify his suspicions.
“Captain!” Pitt snapped.
“Sorry, Admiral.” Jackson straightened up. “Two things. The first is that while Xi’an is no longer a viable planet for habitation, they weren’t able to completely destroy it. Second, the effort completely expended all three Charlies. They’re now adrift near what’s left of the planet.”
“Show me.” Marcum stepped around to where Jackson was standing.
Over the next few minutes Jackson showed his superiors that once the Phage ships had stopped firing, their thermal signatures began to reduce significantly, and they appeared to be flung out from the planet, no longer able to maintain their high velocity, low altitude orbit.
“If you’ll notice, sir, the Charlie units seem incapable of controlled flight after firing their primary weapon,” Jackson said when he looked over and saw Marcum was having trouble picking the details out of the grainy, washed out thermal stills. “My initial assessment would be that these are actually expendable weapons or that once they’ve fired, they need to be recharged.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Marcum said absently. “Orderly! Go fetch Dr. Allrest. He’ll be cooling his heels in the main briefing room.”
“At once, sir!” The young enlisted spacer near the door spun and walked briskly from the room.
“Allrest was supposed to be part of this evening’s entertainment,” Marcum explained. “He’s been heading up the discovery project that was analyzing the pieces of the Alpha you first encountered. I wanted you to be briefed in a more comprehensive manner on the things we’ve learned about the Phage… but that will have to wait while we handle the immediate crisis.”
“Sir, even at the high-warp flight sustainable by com drones, this data is weeks old,” Jackson said. “No matter how quickly we decide on a course of action, and act here today, it will likely be too late to stop whatever the Phage has planned.”
“You’re suggesting that we just let them have their fun in the Xi’an System, Captain Wolfe?” Pitt glared at him from across the table.
Jackson took a deep breath before answering. “No, sir. My only point is that anything we were going to do should have been done a year ago. Starfleet should have already had a regular rotation in place for a blockade on the Frontier along the known incursion points used by the Phage.”
“There are some… complications with that notion, Captain.” Marcum raised a hand to silence Pitt. “That was going to be another part of your briefing. We’ll fill you in later, but suffice it to say that if the current political climate doesn’t change, CENTCOM won’t have the units to establish a blockade.”
Jackson let the last remark go without further comment, despite his burning curiosity about what the Chief of Staff had meant. Starfleet was a military organization with civilian oversight, something that was necessary and appropriate, but he had assumed once the Confederate Senate had recognized the threat and authorized CENTCOM to prepare their defenses that the political wrangling would have ceased.
While they waited for the civilian scientist, Jackson played around with the different angles they had of the encounter that resulted in the virtual destruction of an entire planet. The more he looked at it, the more he was convinced that the Phage had picked this as a test run.
There was one factor that kept punching holes in that theory, however, and that was the fact that the X-ray System had a planet of similar composition that the Phage would have bypassed to destroy Xi’an. But, they were aliens. His human logic and though processes had thus far given him almost no insight as to the motivations or desires of the Phage, other than that they seemed to enjoy wiping out human colonies.
“Ah, doctor,” Marcum said, causing Jackson to look up. “Welcome.”
Dr. Eugene Allrest was a thin man who projected a calm confidence that Jackson found appealing. Here was a man that looked like he had some answers.
“Captain Wolfe.” Allrest smiled warmly and walked over to shake Jackson’s hand. “It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you in person. I must confess after watching all the logs from the Blue Jacket multiple times, I feel like I’ve known you for some time. So, what do we have here?” He indicated toward the repeating clip from the intel drone.
Over the next thirty minutes, Dr. Allrest quickly absorbed the data from the drone with a clinical dispassion that Jackson envied. While the scientist completely shut out all the activity around him, the two senior Fleet officers were becoming impatient and agitated.
“It’s too bad the drone stopped recording so soon after the event,” Allrest said finally. “The behavior afterward would have been helpful to plug into the predictive models. By the way, Captain, the data the Ares collected in the Zulu System was invaluable.”
“Doctor.” Pitt let loose the reins on his exasperation. “Your opinion on the Xi’an incident, if you please.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Allrest said. “This was almost certainly a simple weapons test. We’ve seen them take similar action when we were first introduced to the Bravo constructs.”
“Can you take a guess as to why they traveled all the way from Zulu to Xi’an?” Jackson asked.
“I’d rather not,” Allrest shook his head. “I have no idea why that particular planet was picked as their test site.”
“Well this was all fairly useless,” Pitt growled, walking to the back of the room where the coffee urns and sandwiches were.
“Sir, we need to deploy a network of drones along the Frontier immediately,” Jackson said. “Specifically the warp lanes along the AU/Alliance corridor. We have to assume they’ll follow along the same path as that first Alpha, which will put them quickly over still-populated planets like Podere and Nuovo Patria.”
“We have the drones ready but no way to quickly deploy them.” Pitt walked back with a glass of water. “They aren’t capable of high-warp flight themselves, and all the Prowlers are otherwise engaged.”
“The Ares can get out there faster than the Prowlers, sir,” Jackson said. “We can take the first load, and then the Ninth can finish the job once
the CO situation is settled.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Captain,” Pitt said. “Let’s get him up to speed on what’s happening in the Senate, and then we can task the Ninth Squadron with deploying the intel drones.”
“With all due respect, Admiral… the Phage have just deployed and tested a new super weapon,” Jackson said. “I urge you to reconsider—”
“Stow it, Wolfe,” Pitt said. “You need to be made aware of the situation here on Haven. It’s just as crucial we solve this as it is that we respond to the latest move by the Phage, and I can’t afford to have you flying off half-cocked every time these aliens do something unexpected.”
“Of course, Admiral.”
The remainder of the evening, Jackson was briefed by the technical and research staff about all the developments that had been made concerning the Phage. He even managed to grab a few sandwiches in between presenters. The technical portion was impressive. Tsuyo and CENTCOM scientists had made great strides in understanding the physical makeup of Phage constructs and how to defeat them. The new Shrike penetrating nuke, as effective as it was, wasn’t the only thing they were working on.
What concerned Jackson the most, however, was the obvious lack of anything remotely close to discovering who the Phage were and why they were wiping out human colonies. He was shocked to learn that they’d captured individual Bravo units alive in an incredibly daring operation by CIS, but it was to no avail. None of the units were responsive once they were brought back and interrogated in every conceivable manner.
The Bravo would just sit motionless in the holding pen. In the end, all four captured units were destroyed and studied. There was one vital breakthrough, however, and it was independently verified by the data the Ares had brought back from the Brooklands as well as recorded first hand in the Zulu System: the Phage had a hive mind.
Data from past engagements had shown that as Bravo units were eliminated from a battle, the Phage tactics would become erratic and ineffective. While this had been documented, its significance wasn’t fully realized until the Brooklands observed the broken Phage attack in Xi’an coalesce once again the moment more units appeared.
It seemed they established a local, aggregate processing apparatus wherever they were when within range of each other. The larger the group, the more complex the behavior. When the Ares recorded the actions of the hundreds of constructs in the Zulu System, CENTCOM Research and Science Division was able to say unequivocally that the Phage were utilizing a shared “consciousness,” for lack of a better term.
There was still some argument about what was the perfect number of Phage units that could be in such a group before it became unwieldy and unresponsive, but Jackson had begun to tune out at that point in the briefing. The horror of having to devise tactics against an enemy that, literally, shared the same mind was making his head swim. How could you hope to defend against that, much less mount an effective counteroffensive?
Even if the enemy tactics were flawed, the fact that they could execute them simultaneously and without debate or delay would always give them an advantage over Terran fleets with individual intellects and egos commanding each ship, to say nothing of the significant com delays created by distance.
The briefings mercifully ended with the technical staff promising to try and determine the range and, if possible, the method for the apparent telepathy employed by the Phage. Jackson was taken back to guest quarters that were on the grounds of the Chief of Staff’s residence, eventually falling into a restless sleep that was plagued by nightmares. In his mind’s eye, he saw hundreds of Phage Alphas, all of them thinking and acting as one, crossed the expanse of space, slowly erasing humanity planet by planet.
Chapter 9
Jackson was already awake the next morning when a soft, single knock at his door let him know his uniform had been dropped off. He’d given it to the orderly last night to have cleaned and pressed when he discovered he wouldn’t be returning to his ship but rather accompanying Chief of Staff Marcum to a hearing in the Senate regarding the trouble in New America and Britannia.
He would have been more enthusiastic about fighting the Phage in an EVA suit and a pocket knife, but it was made perfectly clear to him that his attendance was not optional.
“Good, you’re ready,” Admiral Pitt said as Jackson strode into the foyer of the main building. “The shuttle will be here within the hour. I’d advise you to grab something to eat since these things tend to run over by quite a bit.”
In a little under an , they were all climbing onto the military shuttle, a large, four engine affair that was purpose-built to ferry dignitaries around Haven in comfort, though none of the men and women in Fleet dress uniforms looked particularly happy. Jackson was just thankful he was going as an observer this time. Even after his exoneration by Marcum and the President himself, he had still been dragged before countless Senate committee hearings and made to dance so that the politicians could be seen taking the Phage threat seriously on the news broadcasts back home.
As the shuttle approached the Capital Jackson craned his head to get a look at the enormous domed structure of the Senate, the word given to both the building and the body it housed. It was loosely modeled after the Roman Pantheon as it was the only historical structure the original government on Haven could seem to agree on. The thought was to be inclusive of everyone by not copying the existing seats of power on Earth like the Capitol in Washington, D.C. or the Kremlin. Jackson always welcomed the sight of the Senate, since it was one of the few buildings left on Haven originally built by settlers from Earth.
“We’ll be in the gallery on the main floor,” Marcum warned them as the shuttle began its descent. “Please remember that you’ll have a news camera on you at all times. Let’s act like professionals. No eye rolling, no laughing, and for God’s sake no picking in your nose or ears.”
The last comment elicited a handful of polite chuckles.
“We’ve all been through these before.” Marcum continued. “Let the politicians put on their show, and then the real power brokers will make deals behind closed doors. There are two enclaves making all the noise, and hopefully today, we’ll figure out what concessions they’re trying to wring out of Haven.”
Jackson was only half listening since this was, almost verbatim, the exact briefing they’d gotten before the shuttle had landed to pick them up. Was Marcum so nervous because of what he knew and wasn’t telling them, or because of what he didn’t know?
Once they’d been ushered in through the security checkpoint and shown to the section they’d be sitting in, it didn’t take long before the delegates from the five enclaves began filing in, as well as the representatives from Haven and, surprisingly, two observers from Earth. The birthplace of humanity had refused entry into the Confederacy so long ago, a choice that they were continually punished for since, as Haven made sure they never forgot their place.
Just as Jackson was about to ask if it was normal for his home planet to even have representatives on Haven, the swelling score of the official anthem of the Terran Confederacy started, and everyone solemnly stood and faced the banner hanging at the back of the immense hall. As the last notes died out, there was one final surprise for everyone as President Caleb McKellar, decked out in the crimson robes of his office, climbed the steps near the dais and took his seat. A sitting president very rarely attended a full assembly of the Senate during their tenure, if ever.
“Please remain standing as we welcome the President of the Terran Confederacy… the honorable Caleb Sasha McKellar!” the Sergeant at Arms boomed from the back of the hall.
President McKellar stood, bowed, and waved that everyone be seated. Once the crowd had settled in their seats and the murmurs had ceased, a wispy man in the traditional black robes worn by the Senate came to the podium.
“The floor recognizes the honorable Jespen Wilcox from the planet Columbiana, New America enclave.” He set down a small gavel and tottered off the dais. He was replaced by a rotun
d, flushed-faced senator who marched up to the podium and slapped his tile down loudly, eyeing the assembly in what was unmistakably open aggression.
“This should be fucking good,” Admiral Pitt muttered beside Jackson, his lips not moving.
“Thank you, Speaker Graves,” Wilcox said. “Honorable delegates, esteemed guests… much of our deliberations today are to be geared toward discovery—and to pull the cloak of secrecy from the events we are being told threaten our very existence. I will not draw this out any longer than I need to. The Chair would like to call Dr. Eugene Allrest to the floor.”
Dr. Allrest, not seeming surprised by the summons, walked onto the floor from a side chamber. He was dressed in an expensive, if slightly archaic, suit and looked completely at ease as he sat at the table facing the dais.
“Thank you for coming, Doctor,” Wilcox said as if the summons he had issued left Allrest any choice. “I’ve asked you here to give your expert testimony in regards to what many are calling a war with the first intelligent species we’ve met besides ourselves.”
“That’s technically incorrect, Senator—”
“The first that has shown any indication that it wishes to interact with us.” Wilcox corrected himself quickly, waving off Allrest’s protest. “As the project leader of what the military has dubbed the Phage Discovery Project, a fairly innocuous name, you have been privy to an overview of not only the effort Starfleet has put into destroying these aliens but what we’ve been able to discover about them so far. Is this a fair assessment?”
“Yes, Senator.”
“Very well, then.” Wilcox clasped his hands behind his back. “Could you enlighten this assembly as to how your efforts have fared in making contact with the civilization we’ve colloquially been calling the Phage?”
“Senator, we have not captured a significant enough number of Phage constructs—”
“No, Doctor.” Wilcox leaned forward suddenly and grabbed the podium. “I’m asking about the effort to send an envoy to the aliens and attempt direct communication. You have made an attempt to simply talk to them, have you not?”
Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) Page 12
