by TR Cameron
“Unfortunately,” he finished, “what we have is us. Get it done, people.” With a wave, he blinked out, followed quickly by the rest of the images on the display.
“WHERE WOULD you like to start, my girl,” Jannik asked after a short meal break.
“To be honest, all three infuriate me.”
“It’s a crying shame you’re not an engineer, Kate Flynn.”
She laughed. “I didn’t have what it takes. I had to go into command instead.”
“See,” he said with his own laugh, “you understand completely. Let’s start at the top. The damn torpedoes.”
Kate hit some buttons, and a slow-motion replay of the torpedoes versus the Goliath appeared on the largest display wall. She let it roll forward as they both watched. She froze the image and walked over. Grabbing a marker, she drew a vertical line in bright red at the leading edge of the first torpedo. “This is where the torpedoes activated their anti-gravitic programming.” With a small control set also projected on the display she rolled the video forward, and they wobbled as they fought against the repulsive effect of the Goliath’s gravity shield.
Jannik offered a grunt. “They need more power.”
Kate shook her head. “I’m sure you’re right, we can never have too much power. But I think there’s more to it than that. They need to mitigate the shield, or ignore its effects, so they don’t lose the time spent correcting. And they definitely need to be faster. Much faster. That thing’s defenses are… I don’t even have a word for them.”
“They’re right bastards, is what they are, my girl.”
“Exactly. It’s like you pull the words straight out of my mind.” She walked over to the third wall in the tank and wrote a list in blue marker. “So, first off, power and speed. Second, mitigation or negation.”
“Which leads us into the next topic,” Jannik said. “If we can figure out how to negate the gravity defense, we’re one step closer to figuring out how it works. And that will put us one step closer to a defense against the gravity weapon.”
Kate hit more buttons. The image of the marked up, failed torpedo attack on the Goliath faded to data storage and the destruction of the Cozumel looping in slow motion came into focus on the display. “You know what’s weird about this, Jannik,” Kate asked slowly, drawing out each word.
“Almost everything, really. What’s got you thinking?”
“Why is it invisible? All of our energy weapons produce a visual telltale, either a persistent beam, a pulse, or at least some sort of distortion along their paths. What makes this thing different?”
Jannik stood and walked closer to the display, which continued to loop. “You’re absolutely right. There’s nothing there at all. Or is there?” He turned back to the table in the center of the tank and quickly set a program in motion to test the image against multiple filters. They both watched as the image changed colors, vibrated, and inverted, until finally there was a flicker, the barest hint of a presence. “Hold,” Jannik said a little too loudly, and the computer froze on that filter. “List parameters.”
The data the computer provided made absolutely no sense to either of them. They exchanged glances, and Kate said, “I guess we need a brainiac.”
Jannik’s craggy face broke into a grin, and he said, “Time for a drink before we move on to the next one, my girl. We’re making progress. It will all be solved in no time.” Another quick bout of coding, and Jannik had sent their discoveries to the other science personnel in the sector. He led Kate to his office and poured for the both of them.
“ON TO NUMBER THREE,” Kate said when they got back to it, “unless you think we’re going to hear from the smarter people anytime soon.”
Jannik shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. Better to keep plugging along on our own.”
“Okay, let’s just pretend for a minute that tracking us doesn’t fly in the face of everything we understand about wormholes and tunnels. The fact is, they can. So how? What do they have that we don’t?”
“Both tunnel space and wormhole space have one thing in common. Wait, no, two things. First, they both involve the manipulation of gravity. Neither can exist too close to a gravity well.”
“That’s true.” Kate wrote 'gravity' on a clean part of the wall. “What’s the second thing?”
“Electromagnetic radiation.”
“Of course. We use various frequencies to open the wormholes and to build the tunnel entrances and exits. I never put that all together, but they are very similar.”
“We’ll forgive you just this once. You haven’t been around wormhole drives all that long. You’re young. You’ll learn.”
“I feel honored now. Deeply, deeply honored.”
“As well you should.”
“Okay, wait, there’s one other thing that we know about the Xroeshyn for sure. They have wings. Although they’re similar to us, there are some serious differences at a genetic level, assuming those things aren’t decorative. So, let’s use that a starting point. How do birds differ from humans?”
Jannik caught her idea immediately. “Different senses, like the different filters we used to see the gravity gun.”
Kate quickly accessed her database and called up information on the electromagnetic spectrum. She cross-referenced that with avian life forms on earth. “Look here,” she pointed at the data. “Birds on earth can see higher into the spectrum than humans. It’s not that huge a jump to assume that Xroeshyn sight differs from our own.”
“Or, even if they can’t see it, they at least possess the technology to access it,” Jannik nodded in agreement. “So, what does that do for us?”
Kate paced, filled with the familiar energy that always hit her when she was on the road to discovery. “It’ll be child’s play to expand our sensor software to gather data on more of the spectrum. If this was an exploration ship, it would already be done. This is a case where dialing back the input to only what we need to fight the ship isn’t serving us well.”
Jannik tapped the table, calling up his own information on the displays. “You’re right, it’ll be simple code. Probably only an hour’s worth of work. What’s the next step?”
“We can determine if the sensor recordings from the last battle cached this set of data, but it’s unlikely; I don’t think that’s how the system works.” She paused, tapping the end of the stylus against her teeth. Something niggled the edge of her consciousness, she just needed to grab ahold of. “Gravity. That’s the other thing. Somehow, they’re manipulating gravity. As far as I know, it’s not related to the electromagnetic spectrum, other than that a planet’s density influences both.”
Jannik held up his hands, empty palms to the sky. “I’m just an engineer, Kate. The only thing I know about gravity is to turn the engines up higher if we encounter any.”
Kate laughed and nodded. “Same here, I’m just an up-jumped sensor officer at best. We need to send this to an expert.”
“Do you know any?”
“Just so happens, I do. The exploration folks care a great deal about gravity. The admiral in charge of that division would have people who know the science.”
“And do you really think that the admiral of the exploration division will pay any attention to a request from the engineer and executive officer of a random military vessel?”
Kate sat down at the table and grabbed her glass, which Jannik had refilled while she was standing. She took a small sip and winced at the burn, savoring the smoky aftertaste of the whiskey. She ran both hands through her hair, tucking it back behind her ears, and gave him a level glance. “Maybe not a random military ship, but I’m pretty sure she’ll listen to us. After all, mothers always like it when their kids call home.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“The admiralty informs us we’re thirty-six hours away from being mostly functional, and our departure from the sector will occur within five days.” Cross took a bite of the dessert that a sailor had put before him, and then leaned back in his chair, enjoyin
g the indulgence. He reached for his coffee to wash it down.
Dima took that moment to speak, “Have they given you any information on the fallout from the last battle or the strategic plan going forward?” Both Jannik and Kate looked up from their own meals, attentive to the answer to this question.
“They have, indeed. To the first matter, the final count is sixty-eight percent lost or damaged. Some of the crews were saved before their ships were abandoned or destroyed, but we still lack experienced crew to populate the new ships that will hopefully join the fight in short order. The human casualties from the starbase were almost total, although some of the escape pods lasted long enough for rescue. None of the base leadership made it.”
There were no appropriate responses that were also appropriate for polite conversation, so instead Jannik lifted his coffee cup in a silent toast. The other three officers did the same. Cross passed around the carafe for refills.
“As far as a strategy going forward, the admiralty—through the respected personages of Captain Aguayo and Admiral Davies—has indicated that we’ll continue retreating. Our ships will take multiple paths out of the sector and leave hidden torpedoes ready to deploy automatically against enemy vessels. If they follow us through a tunnel, the chances are decent that we might at least damage a few of them before they’ve figured out the trick.” Cross knew he conveyed frustration in his tone, but he allowed himself the luxury of honesty among his friends.
Kate cleared her throat and asked the awkward question, “Will they reinforce the AAN base next in the historical line of attack?” Dima’s face perked up as he looked at Cross.
“Of course not,” Cross replied, his dismay at that answer evident on his face. “Apparently, mutual support doesn’t mean planned mutual support, but rather incidental mutual support. You know, when we happen to be in the neighborhood, and we’re not busy doing anything else, mutual support.” This earned dark laughs from Dima, Kate, and Jannik. “However, it’s my personal opinion that a highly skilled computer programmer could probably arrange the multi-step journey to the next destination for certain ships to curve toward said base losing no transit time.” He’d had this discussion with Kate already, lying together in the warmth of heavily stacked blankets, in the early hours of the morning when crazy ideas seem reasonable.
Kate nodded. “Easy as pie to make the random destinations a little less random. I’ve identified seven other ships with officers who will likely be amenable to this idea. Once we get their agreements, I can send the modified code to them.”
Dima absentmindedly stroked an eyebrow into place. “It’s unfortunate that we still must operate this way. However, as much as I might wish to hold the moral high ground against the vaunted United Atlantic League, my admirals are no better. If you share this program with us, at least we’ll know when and where your ships are bound, and my squadron can plan our patrol schedule to stay in rough proximity.”
“By the letter of the law, that’s probably treason,” Jannik said neutrally.
Cross snorted. “Doing things the way we have been is a recipe for our destruction at the hands of the Xroeshyn. It’s worth the risk to bend a few rules to avoid that. Besides, if we fail, no one should notice. If we succeed, on the other hand, they’ll be forced to give us medals. You can’t simultaneously award and court-martial someone, last time I checked. If you could, I’m pretty sure it would’ve happened to me already.”
The others nodded in unanimous agreement.
“Thanks, really,” Cross quipped. “So, what’s the perspective on your side of the galaxy, Dima?”
The older man sighed and ran his hand across his forehead. “The admirals understand that the Xroeshyn are an existential threat. They still consider them to be more dangerous to you than to us, so they’re moving with incredible deliberateness. They call it ‘appropriate caution.’”
“So, slowly.” Jannik was one to always put things in their simplest terms.
“Almost glacial,” confirmed Dima. “The research division is investigating the enemy’s weapons to increase our defenses against them, but they aren’t paying attention to offense, yet. If I had to guess, they hope that you and the Xroeshyn will resolve this amongst yourselves without remembering that we exist.”
“Well, your admirals have a fifty percent chance of being right with each attack,” Jannik observed.
“Somehow, I think that will be of little consolation when the Xroeshyn visit an AAN sector,” Cross said.
“Can we share the results of our investigation so far with the Alliance publicly?”
Cross shook his head. “Inter-faction cooperation isn’t quite at that level yet, Kate. It will have to be under the table.” Failing to provide all the new discoveries to their allies was never an option for Cross, and he imagined that even if he was to balk at it, Kate would do it anyway. She nodded as if agreeing to his thoughts, drawing a smile from him.
“Next topic, are you building new ships?” Cross’s question appeared to surprise Dima.
“We are, but our ability to do so is severely diminished by the need to retrofit existing vessels with wormhole drives. Ultimately, it won’t come down to numbers, anyway,” said Dima. “No matter how many ships we field, if we cannot defend against their existing technology and improve our own, our ships are nothing but pawns to be swept from the board.”
“They seem disinclined to give us the time to do that.” Cross was considering the entire war from the perspective of the middle game, when pieces are exchanged as opponents prepare for the denouement. “The surprises we’re leaving for them on the new tunnel vectors will help, but only for a moment in the grand scheme of the conflict. We need something game-changing, and I can’t see what it’s going to be from here.”
“It is too soon,” Jannik observed. Dima nodded in agreement. “We need more time to get a real sense of our opponent.”
“I wonder who that is, anyway,” said Kate. “It’s safe to assume that there’s some being in charge of our enemy. Someone who is making the tactical and strategic decisions. Possibly multiple someones. It would be nice to know what they’re thinking, or even how they think at all.”
Dima spoke, putting words together as if discovering each one after the other, “It’s true, that what we seem to lack is information. History shows that there are many ways to get it. Research. Spies. Interrogation. Observation.”
“I think we can dispense with the espionage idea, Dima, unless there are particularly adept costumers on your ship. All of my sailors are missing a functional pair of wings.”
Dima offered a thin smile at Cross’s joke, but didn’t abandon his direction. “Fair point. That still leaves us with research, interrogation, and observation. We’re already doing two of the three. We haven’t attempted to capture and interrogate any of them. Perhaps that’s an option to consider.”
Jannik spoke up, “Evidence shows that interrogation has a random chance of success. We like to tell ourselves that it’s foolproof, but it isn’t. It does suggest another approach. We could attempt to take one of their ships and steal its data. Data can’t lie, it only hides.”
“Sometimes it hides really well, Jannik,” said Kate. “I can only imagine what sort of encryption protocols a species more advanced than we are has developed.”
“It doesn’t lessen the validity of the idea, it just creates a longer timeframe,” countered Jannik.
“Agreed.”
Dima chimed in, “So, really it’s quite simple, Cross. The next ship you fight, capture it, instead of destroying it. Oh, and drag it through a wormhole, and then through tunnel space, and then on through two more tunnel spaces, so that we can store it at a starbase to plunder its secrets.”
Cross deadpanned, “Just another day in the United Atlantic League Navy. Consider it done.”
The four of them laughed, and the conversation moved on to less important items. Cross’s brain kept coming back to stealing the data on a Xroeshyn ship. Between him, Kate, and Jannik, plus
the Marines in storage on the lower decks, surely, they could create a strategy for such a thing, right?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In his mind, Kraada Tak let loose a string of invectives that burned the ears of everyone nearby and reduced his opponent, Drovaa Jat, to ash. In reality, he remained silent, gritting his teeth and allowing his gaze to wander around his antagonist’s domain. The blue on blue of the holo-table showed a large graph of the portion of the galaxy where humanity was ascendant. A scarlet line showed the direction of the Ruby Rain, and the two human factions were in yellow and orange. The invasion path should have been constantly angling vectors, but instead it was straight. That was the problem, a problem Kraada had thought resolved, in the presence of the emperor no less.
“Marshal, I believe we had agreed on an attack vector that took each target in line, did we not?”
“Yes, Hierarch, we did. But that was before we could skip ahead, rather than going sector by sector. Our ships and scientists have done an excellent job of developing a method to strike directly into the hearts of our enemies. It would be foolish not to take advantage of this opportunity.”
Kraada looked down at the floor, schooling his features to hide his irritation. “I fail to see how this ability makes a difference in the overall invasion strategy. Perhaps I’m not as quick to understand as I should be. If you’d be so kind as to enlighten me?”
It was a request with the weight of a command. Either could elevate the issue to the emperor and make the arguments before him. Each of them had their own reasons to avoid it. Drovaa, because last time he’d faced Kraada before the emperor, the resolution hadn’t landed in his favor. Kraada, because Enjaaran was unpredictable. His capriciousness was almost legendary, resulting in changes to important policies within a day of instituting them on more than one occasion.
Drovaa turned to him, tugging his uniform into perfect alignment. He was adorned with medals today, Kraada noted, and whenever he wore them he strutted like an animal displaying plumage to attract a mate. “It made sense before to eliminate each as we encountered them. Now, we can bypass the second group and focus on reaching the species’ home planet by following the first group's retreat. Surely this will gain us the most reward at the least cost, don’t you agree, Hierarch?”
