This bit Jeff remembered from his basic training. Snatching up a can of sealant, he pushed himself over to the hole and sprayed it in. The hole sealed up with a noisy gurgle.
“Are they chasing us?” asked Driscoll.
“One is holding position sir, the other is moving towards the gate, must be to raise the alarm.”
“No. No, it can do that with a transmission. It’s going to use the gate to jump out and it’s own drive to jump back in ahead of us. Watch for its distortion pattern,” Driscoll snapped back.
All three of the sensor operators watched their displays intently. Ten tense minutes later the Nameless ship passed through the gateway and disappeared.
“Got it!” Headey shouted back. “Distortion pattern bearing zero, zero, two dash zero, zero, zero.”
“Helm, take us right at him,” Driscoll called.
“Sir?” There was alarm in the helmsman’s voice.
“That’s an order! Cut engine and radar, countermeasures to standby.”
When the engine cut out, microgravity suddenly returned and Jeff was forced to abruptly steady himself again. Ahead the visual distortion was now so close Jeff could see it with his naked eye. It got steadily more violent as the Nameless ship forced its way back into real space, ghost-like at first, it became steadily more solid.
“Counter measures, full spread, pop the decoys!” Driscoll ordered.
From within recesses in the hull four cylinders the size of a diver’s air tank launched. Short lived but powerful rockets pushed them away from K7. Ten kilometres clear of the courier the cylinders activated. A tiny amount of air was all that was needed to instantly inflate a large foil balloon, one carefully tailored to match both the shape, size and radar profile of a K Class. Instead of the single fleeing ship it expected, the newly arrived Nameless found itself confronted by five separate contacts.
Jeff desperately wanted to explain what was happening, but his heart seemed to have jumped into his mouth and he found himself mumbling incoherently.
The escort spat missiles, ripping through two of the decoys, it still had two more missiles but the opportunity had gone. K7 flashed beneath the Nameless ship, her engines firing once again, leaving the alien floundering.
“Wherever it went sir, it didn’t pick up much velocity,” Headey reported. “It’s pretty much at rest relative to the planet. They’re never going to catch us.”
It took another ten minutes to prove it but Headey was right. K7 was now travelling at vastly greater velocity than the Nameless ships. Their missiles had a slight acceleration advantage over the courier, but chasing directly up K7’s wake, they exhausted their fuel and fell away long before they could reach her.
Another ninety minutes at full power and K7 crossed the Red Line and disappeared into the safety of jump space.
Driscoll let out a sigh of relief as he released the catch on his restraint harness and opened his helmet visor.
“Bridge to engineering. Have you got a damage report?”
“Port side of the hull between Frames B and D has more perforations than a good quality teabag. We’ve popped several welds and the number two fuel tank is riddled,” came the reply across the intercom. “We haven’t lost anything we can’t manage without though.”
“Thank you Engineering. We did good work today. We’re now a little less ignorant about the enemy.”
Jeff pushed his helmet visor back up. “And what’s more,” he added patting his camera fondly, “we’ve got one hell of a newscast here.”
Chapter Ten
Moment for Reflection
12th March 2067
“The exact location of the Nameless homeworld remains unknown, but based on the information provided by the Aèllr Confederacy, we can make a rough estimate that it was on the very end of the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way. This would make it an extremely isolated star system, which has had a profound effect on the Nameless themselves. The Aèllr believe that the Nameless were late to discover any means by which interstellar travel could be achieved. By that time they had consumed virtually every resource within their home system. Their homeworld’s environment was collapsing and their population in steady decline. They were in effect facing the slow extinction of their race. They launched a series of huge colony ships, some as slow boats, others with the new jump technology. Those ships that attempted to make the journey via jump had to do so far beyond safe distance. It would appear most of those jump ships were lost but at least one colony ship made the journey safely and found a world on which to establish a population.”
“Do we know how many?” President Clifton interrupted.
“The Aèllr believe it might have been as few as tens of thousands, just enough to re-establish their race,” Commodore Tsukioka replied, looking up from his notes. “Certainly it was only a tiny fraction of their population and going back for more was not an option.”
“Have they regained contact with their homeworld since then?”
“It would appear not. Certainly a small colony landed on a new planet with no prospect of resupply, would have to focus its efforts on short-term survival over all other considerations. The computer population models we use make a lot of assumptions but we think the period between landing and regaining the economic ability to construct interstellar vessels would be several centuries. In meantime the Nameless left on their homeworld presumably died out. Either way, even to this day the Nameless lack the ability to go back to find out.”
“Interesting as that might be,” Clifton said after a pause, “what immediate relevance does it have?”
“The Aèllr believe that having hovered on the cusp of extinction once has had a profound effect on how the Nameless look upon the universe. In particular, when they look upon the starless gulf between galaxies, they see a barrier, which can never be crossed. When this galaxy is… used up, they will have nowhere to go. That is where it becomes immediately relevant, Madam President. We, the Aèllr and the other races, are using resources. In doing so we are bringing forward the day when this galaxy is exhausted.”
“But… but, the Galaxy is huge,” said the President of Brazil. “There are millions of stars. We only occupy a handful of systems!”
“Yes sir,” Tsukioka replied calmly. “It would appear the Nameless believe in planning ahead and having looked extinction in the face once, wish to put off seeing it again for as long as possible, no matter the cost. Their war aim is quite simply our eradication. The Aèllr believe they bear us no malice as such. Their position is simply that in the long run, it’s us or them.”
“I see… How sure can we be of this information from the Aèllr?” President Clifton asked after a long silence.
“Not very,” Wingate replied seriously. “By that I don’t imply that the Aèllr are making any kind of attempt to deceive or mislead us Council Members. What I mean is there are so many holes in our knowledge of the Nameless and our intelligence sources are so limited, we simply can’t substantiate most of it. What we can back up is the technical data. Some of what we do know goes beyond what the Aèllr have.”
“It would have greatly helped if they had provided information on how they obtained this data,” the French President growled.
“Without question, yes,” Lewis said with a shrug. “But that was never going to happen. It was probably that big reconnaissance cruiser we know they have. The one they’ve never publicly admitted exists.”
“Do you believe this information, Admiral?” asked Prime Minister Layland.
“Yes sir, I do.” Lewis replied. “In January one of their fleets moved out past the Confederacies frontier to positions beyond the right edge of the Junction Line. One of our scouts was dispatched to investigate. Before it was intercepted and escorted out of the system, it observed signs of fighting. The Aèllr, are for the time being, effectively bracing our right flank. Which is just as well, because the Junction Line is coming under pressure.”
“We’ll come back to that Admiral,” Clifton said. “Commo
dore, do we or the Aèllr know how strong the Nameless are economically?”
“The Aèllr believe the Nameless’s relative economic strength is at the very least equal to that of the Confederacy. Supporting a fleet at least fifty percent stronger in numbers than the Aèllr’s.”
“Holy Christ!” someone muttered.
“How have we not simply been swarmed over?” Clifton asked with practised calm.
“Distance,” Tsukioka said. “They are operating at the end of a very long and tenuous supply line. The Nameless have to transport all of the supplies needed by their fleets across vast distance. That offsets much of their economic advantage. As we saw in August, once their supply ships were destroyed, they were left with no choice but to retreat. Which brings us to the gates. These were first observed by the cruisers Phantom and Spectre, which have been performing deep reconnaissance since August. We didn’t however know what they were until the scout ship K7 observed one in operation.”
“Does this offer any insight into how their jump technology works?” Secretary Callahan asked.
“Combined with the intelligence from our own observations and the Aèllr, we have come to the conclusion that their technology is not a superior version of ours but is instead a completely different system. As such it is subject to a totally different set of capabilities and limitations. Quite how it works in pure speculation but it appears that the Nameless can only make the transition in and out of their jump space within the gravitational influence of a solar system. For in-system jumps this is of little importance but across interstellar distance, it brings problems. In essence we believe that when a Nameless ship makes a jump for another star system, it is committed. If it attempts to jump too large a gap, it can’t make real space re-entry. Think of it like jumping a gorge. Once they make the jump, they can’t stop or change direction and if there is nothing to land on at the end of their jump…” he shrugged. “Quite what happens to a ship in a failed jump is impossible to say. The strategic effects however are more discernable.”
Tsukioka pressed a button on the control panel in front of him and the desk’s hologram projector came on. It displayed a very simplified star chart, along which a jagged red line that went down the middle, top to bottom, from one dot to another. “This is a display of the Nameless’s route in July from Baden to Alpha Centauri. As you can see, that route was far from direct. But what we in intelligence find most interesting is here.” Tsukioka pointed to the icon for a star, about two thirds of the way down. The red line doglegged around it.
“What system is that?” Lewis asked.
“Alpha two, three, seven dash two, five, five. It’s a Type Four star orbited by three wholly unremarkable planets. The system’s only noteworthy feature is that it occupies an unusually barren patch of the galaxy. Its closest neighbour is seven and a half light years away.”
“And the Nameless didn’t pass through this system? We’re sure of that?” Secretary Callahan asked.
“Yes. There is a sentry satellite in the system. One of our scouts checked its records, so we can say with absolute certainty that the Nameless did not enter the system. By our estimates, the detour added thirty hours to their journey.”
“What is the furthest we’ve observed them jumping?” Lewis asked.
“Approximately four point seven light years, sir,” Tsukioka replied, before pressing another button. A smattering of red dots appeared on the display, some on the red line and others flanking it. “Here are the locations of the space gates we have so far detected. Each of these is within four and a half light years of another. Their FTL drives seem to have a very significant speed advantage over ours, but much of that advantage is wiped away by the fact that they are limited in terms of what routes they can take. That puts some systems, such as this one,” he pointed into the holo, “beyond their reach. This supports the background data provided by the Aèllr.”
“So this system might serve as a secure base,” Wingate said half to himself.
Lewis asked: “is there any hope of replicating their drives?”
“Unless we recover a working or near working example, no.”
“Why even build these gates?” Prime Minister Layland asked. “As I understand it the Nameless ship are best suited to fighting at long range. But if forced to defend a fixed point, our ships can get close enough to shoot back. So they have to either lose equipment or lose ships. If they can put a jump drive into a ship, why build these gates at all?”
“We believe economics is the answer to that question, sir,” Tsukioka replied. “While our calculations are based on estimates, we can make certain extrapolations. Our jump drives are expensive capital items. Even on the largest bulk transport ships they represent approximately a quarter of the cost of the entire vessel. We speculate that the Nameless’s drives are similarly expensive. Therefore these space gates would offer a lower cost alternative to putting a drive in every ship.”
“Can’t they do as we do,” Callahan asked. “Have a ship in front and another behind one or more vessels lacking their own jump drive holding the portal open long enough for them to enter?”
“We have never seen them do that, Mister Secretary” Tsukioka replied. “Our drives create a hole in the fabric of space through which the ship passes. Their ships seem to phase out of our plane of reality, meaning each one seems to be effectively on its own. Since July the enemy transports we’ve observed have principally been small vessels that appear to rely on the gates. Jump-capable Nameless transport ships seem to be a rarity.”
“That loses them a hell of a lot of flexibility,” Lewis observed, “if the bulk of their fleet train can only come in and out of their jump space in certain locations.”
“But they only need flexibility in the immediate combat zone,” Tsukioka said. “These gates allow them to use relatively inexpensive and technologically basic transports to haul supplies the great distance from their presumed core worlds up to the forward supply dumps. The expensive jump capable transports only have to move supplies a short distance from these dumps to the combat zones.”
“There is a positive side to this,” Wingate said. “It makes the Junction Line a more viable defence than we originally anticipated. The Nameless can’t simply run warships through the line because their support elements won‘t be able to follow. So they also have to maintain a frontline. That is where we do have the advantage that we can strike through their lines at their supply lines and dumps.”
“Which is why Junction Line is coming under so much pressure,” Lewis repeated. “I have no wish to be the voice of gloom but the Nameless are trying to break through. This month we’ve lost one cruiser and two destroyers while another two cruisers and a destroyer are badly damaged and en route back to Earth. Right now we are holding the line but only just.”
“There are a number of new constructions coming on stream in the next six months,” Callahan said.
“The new constructions aren’t going to keep pace with our losses in the same timeframe, never mind make good the ships we lost in the first weeks of the war,” Lewis said grimly.
“The Nameless aren’t our only problem,” Wingate added. “There’s also Dryad.”
“Dryad?” Clifton asked.
“Yes, Dryad,” Lewis said flatly. “We’re about to lose it.”
“What?” Callahan looked sharply toward Wingate, who gave no visible sign of disagreeing with his subordinate.
“We’re getting reports from Admiral Shibanova, the commander on Dryad Station, that vessels from the Tample star nation of Rizr are starting to sniff around the system,” Wingate said with a sigh. “His last report indicates that they are currently testing his ability to respond.”
“And… does he have that ability?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Lewis cut in.
“The forces at Dryad are far too weak. We are sending one of our new constructions out there but if we could redeploy some of the ships on the Aèllr bord…” Wingate added.
“No
,” Clifton cut him off sharply. “The Council is not willing to reduce the strength of the force patrolling the Aèllr border. Yes we appreciate that the Confederacy has given an undertaking not to cross the border but we have spoken publicly on this matter and we will not allow the border force to be further depleted.”
“Then Ma’am, the Council will have to make a decision. We either further compromise what is left of the frontier station or we have Dryad taken from us by force within the next few months,” Wingate replied, his tone just as uncompromising as the President’s.
“Can’t we take one or two ships off the Nameless front?” she asked.
“No we can’t!” Lewis snapped back.
“That isn’t even the faintest possibility,” Wingate agreed in a more restrained tone.
“We have the frontline, we have the defence of the Dryad system, and we have the patrolling and monitoring of the Aèllr border. Right now, from where I am sitting the Aèllr frontier is the only place we can spare ships. As the Aèllr themselves have pointed out, what we have out there would not stop them.”
“I understand what you are saying Admiral, but politically, abandoning the Aèllr frontier is unacceptable.”
“Then we are going to suffer the same kind of smash and grab that was inflicted on the Mhar,” Lewis said bluntly.
“There is a possible compromise deployment,” Wingate said after a few moments. “We could change the base of operations for the frontier force. Rather than supplying out of Earth, they could be supplied out of Hawkings Base at Dryad.”
“Really?” Callahan said as he looked askance at Wingate.
“Yes, our space docks here at Earth are overworked. There are large amounts of supplies at Hawkings, which would allow the frontier force to operate from there.”
“I see,” said Callahan slowly. “Then why haven’t we been doing that before now?”
“Working from Earth based them in the middle their operational area. Coming from Dryad means based much closer to one edge, which means that the opposite far edge won’t be as well patrolled as it is now.”
The Landfall Campaign (The Nameless War) Page 19
