Operation Wolfsbane

by Shane Lochlann Black

  “Alliance vesssssssel! This is Sarn Invector Gomok! We are under attack by unknown forcesssss! Can you assist us!?”

  Lieutenant Thompson hesitated for the first time in recent memory. The pale wide-eyed look on his face told the story. As a Skywatch captain, he had a duty to aid vessels in distress, especially those that were targets of what seemed to be an unprovoked attack. On the other hand, he also had a duty to protect Core Space from hostile forces. At the moment, the Sarn were most assuredly not on Skywatch’s Christmas card list.

  But for the lieutenant, that didn’t change the facts.

  “Bring us up on the Gomok’s course, navigator. Stand by to maneuver.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, we can’t get involved here, especially if your plan is to come to the defense of the Sarn!” The Curacao’s executive officer was just as aware of his duty. At the same time, he recognized the danger to both the ship and the Alliance.

  “What do you propose, XO? We let them die while they listen to static instead of our response to a distress call?”

  “They are Sarn!”

  “We’re not at war yet, lieutenant!” Thompson snapped. “I’m not going to stand idly by while a ship full of intelligent beings is blown out of space!”

  “What about Kilo X-Ray Seven, sir? If we come to the aid of their enemy, we could be inviting a second war while attempting to prevent the first!”

  “I’m not a diplomat, lieutenant. I’m a Skywatch captain and I have a duty to vessels in distress, regardless of the political situation. Pilot, intercept the Sarn vessel. Tactical, I want an ID on Kilo X-Ray Seven the moment they are in range.”

  Within minutes, Curacao had settled into formation with the bleeding Invector destroyer. The Sarn vessel’s battle screens had been shattered and all but one of her aft weapons batteries had been burned into slag.

  “Signals, open a hailing frequency. Engage automatic translation protocols. LOS signals only.”

  “You’re on, captain.”

  “Sarn vessel. This is Captain Nelson Thompson of the Skywatch frigate Curacao. We stand ready to assist. Please respond.”

  “Captain, these readings don’t make any sense at all. There are elements baked into that vessel’s hull we have no instruments to measure.” Thompson’s tactical officer was becoming more and more agitated as he checked and re-checked his instruments. “Space is warping around that ship!”

  “Engineering to bridge!”

  “Bridge, Thompson.”

  “Whatever is going on outside our hull is ripping the insides out of our engines, sir. We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Veer off, pilot. Ahead one half until we clear the–” As suddenly as if someone had flipped a light switch, the entire Curacao bridge froze in time. The cephalon chronometers inside the vessel’s central computer expected to have measured 18 seconds from the time Thompson gave his order to the moment everything started moving again. But they measured no seconds. Engineering apparently didn’t experience the same phenomenon, since the reactor mass expected rate of element decay had continued. Only the view on the main screen alerted the navigator to what had just happened. Before anyone had a chance to react, the tactical officer shouted.

  “Threat board! Hostile contact Kilowatt X-Ray Seven on intercept course and closing!”

  “What’s happening to the Sarn ship, navigator!” Thompson barked. “Report!”

  “I can’t get any readings that make sense! Time is moving backwards inside that zone! The alloys that make up the ship’s hull are degrading and that radiation source is altering its own molecular structure!”

  “That’s impossible!” The signals officer shouted.

  “I can’t get power, sir! Engines are not responding!” Curacao’s pilot fought his helm, desperately trying to will his ship out of range of the twisting and distorted Sarn destroyer. What Captain Thompson saw next he knew he would never understand. The huge molten scar in the Sarn hull began to grow. Pieces of the ship broke away and began floating towards the brightening hull breach. Within a few moments, larger pieces were rocketing into the light, causing it to get more intense.

  “Tactical?”

  “That fire is forming new elements, sir. It’s emitting molecules with atomic weights of 262 and above. Most are isotopes, so they should be radioactive, but they aren’t decaying.”

  “What does that mean, ensign?”

  “I don’t know. What’s happening to that ship violates the laws of physics!”

  “Weapons fire!”

  The entire bridge crew was thrown forward as twin beam weapons from the onrushing unidentified ship blasted through her engine cowlings.

  “Evasive action! All power to engines!” Thompson shouted. The pilot threw all of Curacao’s throttles forward. The ship’s engines sputtered and shook, barely containing the sudden flood of power from her reactor. Finally the emergency systems kicked in and the tiny ship rocketed out of the Sarn vessel’s deteriorating course. Red-hot pieces of her engine assembly tumbled in her wake.

  Thompson and his tactical officer watched as their visual pickups showed the destroyer twisting itself into impossible shapes. It looked as if they were viewing it through a distorting lens. Its aft batteries were gradually consumed by the yellow-white plasma fire.

  And then Kilowatt X-Ray Seven was upon them.

  Six

  “Commander? We’re picking up a distress call. Skywatch priority frequency.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  Tom Huggins felt the muscles in his shoulders tense and his breathing become strained as the images from the bridge of the Curacao appeared on the main viewscreen of DSS Fury. Explosions of phosphor and kraylon gas made it difficult to see, but what was visible caused a sharp chill through the midsections of everyone aboard Jayce Hunter’s ship.

  “This is Curacao! Nine days out of Vicksburg station! We are approaching the Proximan frontier and we are under attack! Vessel identity unknown! It has already destroyed a Sarn warship! Engines are failing!”

  Huggins nodded at his signals officer then turned back to the screen. “Curacao, this is Fury. We read you! Set a course for the Rho Theta frontier and we will intercept. Acknowledge!”

  “Acknowledged, Fury! Altering course now!”

  “Can you lock us on to your screen, captain? Is the attacking vessel visible?”

  “Switching! Enemy contact designate Kilowatt X-Ray Seven. We can’t get any understandable readings from our short-range scanners, Fury. The navigational computer says it’s there, but our SRS board insists there’s nothing to lock on to. We are transmitting our logs and telemetry on our contact with the Sarn Invector Gomok. Can you confirm reception?” Thompson sounded like he was shouting over gale force winds in some kind of freak hurricane. His bridge was in flames and his damage control parties were busy trying to keep his control systems operational.

  A moment later, the image of the Curacao bridge faded and was replaced with a view of a huge starfield. In the center of the screen was what looked for all the world like a hole in space. Around it was a ghostly blue aura that trailed behind the black shape as if it were flying through intensely cold air. The ship itself, however, was nothing. It was utterly black with no features at all. It obstructed the stars behind it. Commander Huggins concluded it must have been solid. But in all other respects, it was like a shadow in the darkness. It was like watching a piece of the night sky pierce the stars.

  “What in blazes is that?”

  “Commander, this could very well be one of the ships that attacked the Sussex. It’s closing on the Curacao.”

  “Alright I’ve seen enough. Contact Rhode Island and get them spun up as quickly as possible. I want escort. Signals, get me the captain on priority frequency.”

  “I have Commander Hunter sir.”

  “Jayce, we’ve got a problem. The Curacao is under attack. Their current position is just off Proximan space. We’re responding to their distress call. We’re taking Rhode Island along for
support. Notify the admiral for us.”

  “Acknowledged, Fury. Get out there as soon as you can. Hunter out.”

  An hour later, Commander Huggins had excused himself from the bridge to spend some time alone on the observation deck. He had grown angry and had unfairly dressed down the second watch signals officer because she couldn’t provide him with the information he wanted. The fact nobody could provide readings that simply weren’t available didn’t seem to matter to the commander. At least at the time. He had given himself time to calm down. He knew his reaction had more to do with the lost crew than anything else.

  The Curacao was now officially missing. Huggins had made the log entry himself. It certainly didn’t make him feel better largely because now he couldn’t be certain of anything. Contact Kilowatt X-Ray Seven was also gone. There wasn’t so much as a latent emissions pattern. No weapons fire. No radiation. Nothing.

  How could a ship chase down an adversary, destroy her and then vanish into the darkness of space without leaving behind even a trace of the battle? There was no debris. There wasn’t another word over subspace radio. Both ships had out-and-out vanished. At least with the Sussex there was a hull. There was some indication that the confrontation had ended. It was not the ending Skywatch officers would have preferred, of course. But there was some kind of certainty.

  Lieutenant Commander Thomas Huggins had always harbored a grudging respect for those officers and crew who went into the science section to serve the fleet. Their careers were all based on facts and verifiable results. The career of a line officer was somewhat different. Admiral Tucker’s point about going to war armed with a theory was far closer to accurate than most of Huggins’ comrades were apt to admit. It wasn’t any better when the shooting started, as Huggins’ captain often pointed out. “No battle plan survives the first shot fired,” may as well have been sewn into Jayce Hunter’s uniform from the rank of Lieutenant JG on.

  Command had its advantages and its prerogatives, but it didn’t make a line officer’s life any easier when every battle started with a theory and ended with a plan that had been blown all to hell. One might be tempted to wonder what the the point of it all was when it seemed the commanding officer never had much to offer in the first place. How much of an effect did the captain have after all? Being in command certainly didn’t help Nelson Thompson. His ship may well have been lost along with a crew of 46 officers and men. His decision to lend assistance to the Sarn was a courageous act in more ways than one. And it may have cost him his life.

  At least that’s the way it would go down in Fury’s log. Huggins stared out the observation deck window. The Proximan primary was close enough to dominate the starfield. It was the home of mankind’s staunchest ally by most measures. Even they couldn’t help the Curacao, despite the fact they were only minutes away.

  What all of them knew was that somewhere out there, a shadow lurked. It was now responsible for the probable deaths of two Skywatch crews and two irreplaceable starships. The beings aboard it, if there were any, had declared war without even meeting a human being face to face. Further, they had also apparently declared war on the Sarn Star Empire. The hubris necessary to make such a belligerent and potentially suicidal decision was beyond Tom Huggins’ imagination. Perhaps they didn’t realize the scope and magnitude of the conflicts they had involved themselves in yet. Perhaps they didn’t realize the Sarn and the Core Alliance could field lethal fleets of warships to defend themselves.

  Or, more ominously, perhaps they knew all of those things and attacked anyway. That was enough to give Commander Huggins pause. If his suspicions were correct, a war was coming that would shake the very foundations of the galaxy. And the advanced strike cruiser DSS Fury was going to be right in the very center of it.

  Chapter Seven:

  Strike Sergeant Roy Alexander was the first to regain consciousness. The overpowering chemical scents of ozone and burnt composite invaded his eyes and mouth. Through almost superhuman effort, the special forces marine managed not to cough. He couldn’t take a chance if there were still enemies nearby. He took a quick stock of his physical state. Apart from a nagging ache in his left calf and ankle and what was practically guaranteed to be a bleeding wound of some kind on the back of his head, he was intact and capable of movement.

  Sable was sitting on the aircar’s ceiling. She stopped panting and looked intently at the sergeant as if to ask “so, when does the mission start?”

  The civilian seat harness Alexander had managed to half-wrap around his shoulder was now the only thing preventing him from falling and landing on the aircar’s ceiling. He could hear a fire burning outside. It was likely the source of the particulate matter inside the car’s cabin. One of the windows was cracked and pieces of the passenger-side door were missing. The mechanism was hopelessly wedged.

  The driver door, however, was gone. Not open or broken, but gone. The sergeant quickly scanned the rest of the aircar. The commander. Both bodyguards–

  Shea was missing.

  Now Sergeant Alexander was going on training alone. He immediately checked his chronometer and made certain it was synchronized with the overhead probe. The signals matched, meaning all of the precautions the SAR team had taken upon their arrival were likely intact. That gave the marine a number of useful options. He reached down and flipped up the debris shield on Sable’s battle harness. The thin combination commlink and visual pickup transmitter was still operational. He activated the local-area tracking mechanisms and the animal’s comm repeater.

  The sergeant felt around the area just above his left knee. Inside one of the well-hidden pouches he found a foldable knife. In a matter of moments, he had silently extricated himself from the seat harness and moved just enough to see out both the back and side windows. The other aircar was in similar shape to his own, although it didn’t seem to be burning. There were no bodies visible, which was a good sign or bad sign depending on your particular set of responsibilities for the trip.

  Then Alexander froze. There was a humanoid of average size and build on the driver side of his car. They weren’t moving quickly, but it appeared by the long shadow they were armed. The sergeant ducked his head just enough so he could see the enemy’s boots. Human. It wasn’t immediately clear why there were humans at the crash site given the fact there was every indication their pursuers were all Sarn. It was possible, however, that at least some of the enemy personnel at the air terminal could have been humans and simply hadn’t seen a clear opportunity to engage until now. The sergeant was thankful Sable’s tail was hidden from outside view. She was likely to start wagging it if Alexander regained his feet, and that would be inconvenient at the moment.

  The enemy human outside the aircar had moved on. Alexander strained his shoulder muscles to lift his eyes just high enough to see out the aircar’s back window. Definitely human. Whoever it was, they were dressed in a gray tac suit of some kind and armed with what appeared to be an old model Sinisese energy rifle. Not the kind of equipment one would expect in the hands of modern forces. Alexander concluded this particular opponent was likely a low-cost mercenary of some kind paid to do mop-up or to watch the scene until someone with more authority or intelligence arrived. It was odd that they had left mercs behind to guard a pile of dead or unconscious people after abducting their target.

  Alexander found the combination pistol he had equipped wedged between the seats. He recovered it, checked its load status and activated it before replacing it in his security holster. He glanced out the back window again. The other aircar had been leading the two-vehicle formation during the chase, yet it had ended up behind the other after the detonation of the roadside mine. The sergeant was looking for backup, and the one person he knew would be the most help at the moment was Master Sergeant Dupree. The SCIC military police officer had marine training and most importantly, had considerable expertise in para-military operations in places like Mycenae Ceti Four. The problem was, she was in the other vehicle and her status was unknown. Al
exander had to get a message to her somehow, and there was no way to know if there were other enemy guards in the area. Except–

  The sergeant activated his commlink and synchronized it with the surveillance network. Within moments, he had his handheld tied in to the Nightwing’s security grid. The overhead probe was still in full operation and gave Alexander a rather impressively sharp look-down view of the crash site. The crater from the mine detonation was scarcely 40 yards behind the two vehicles. The enemy guard was standing next to a second man behind the trailing aircar. It was strange they would just stand there like that, especially with potential enemies inside the vehicles. What were they waiting for?

  Nevertheless, now that he had localized his targets, Sergeant Alexander could get to work doing what he did best. He quickly slipped out the driver side of his car and made his way to the front. He drew his weapon and leaned against the mangled metal, nodding his head forward just enough to get a line of sight on the two rifle-armed mercs. Sable, naturally, was right behind him. Alexander turned and guided his K-9 around the other side of the aircar until the animal caught sight of the two enemy guards. She prowled down the road, sneaking up on the other car as silently as her owner. Alexander moved back to the front edge where he had a clear line of fire. He noticed a shadow behind the other car and held his fire. One of the guards’ heads suddenly jerked back. The marine sergeant jumped from cover and fired a single shot, catching the second guard in the back of the neck. He was dead before he hit the ground. Sergeant Dupree and Sable emerged from behind the wrecked car. Dupree had the guard’s rifle.

  “Nice work,” Alexander said.

  “How long were we out?”

  “My best guess about 30 minutes. Shea is gone. We have to move quickly.”

  Alexander and Dupree worked carefully to extract the commander and the bodyguards from the first car. Once Annora had recovered enough to stand, they went to work getting the others out of their vehicle. Once everyone was accounted for it was clear what the Sarn had been after in the chase. Shea was the only one missing.