Rise of Nimrod Fleet (The Contingency War Book 3)

by G J Ogden

  The computations finished and Lux stared down at the result again, still struggling to believe what his eyes were showing him. Surely, a mistake? he told himself, but he had run the numbers himself and the result was identical. Lux believed in data. Unlike incompetent constables, racketeers and especially human beings, data did not lie. He trusted data implicitly, as he also implicitly trusted his commander and the purpose of their mission. Lux initiated the jump calculations to the new location provided by the breaker and then sent a message to Provost Adra, who had reluctantly retired to her personal quarters to convalesce.

  Less than a minute later, the wide circular doors to the bridge swung open and Adra marched through, bustling with energy and purpose. Her personal suite was close to the bridge, yet Lux was still surprised at how quickly she had arrived.

  “Report, Adjutant Lux,” Adra commanded as she stepped onto her command platform with an urgency that matched her furious pace.

  “The anomaly has been detected and its location has been pinpointed,” said Lux as Adra quickly drew down one of the halo of screens above the command platform to inspect the information for herself.

  “Is this data confirmed?” queried Adra, reacting in the same way Lux had done only moments earlier.

  “It is confirmed, Provost,” replied Lux, confidently, knowing that he had already checked the calculations and determined that there was no error. “The signal anomaly originated from a system containing a high-security reclamation facility, Cygnus G7-530. It is located nine point two five kiloparsecs from the humans’ home star.”

  “From the Hedaltus home star,” Adra corrected, but without malice.

  “Apologies, Provost,” replied Lux, but Adra did not respond, and was instead consumed with assimilating the data on the screen in front of her.

  “But why this system?” commented Adra, more to herself than to Lux. “Cygnus G7-530 is heavily guarded. What do they want there?” Adra was struggling to comprehend why the anomaly indicated this one specific system out of the billions in the galaxy. She did not believe in coincidence – for her, there must be a cause for every effect – but it seemed highly improbable that the humans and Hedalt would construct facilities in the same star system purely by chance. There had to be another reason, but she could not see it, and it vexed her.

  “Does the reclamation facility at Cygnus G7-530 process Hunter Corvettes?” asked Lux, not taking the chance that Adra’s questions were not directed at him.

  Adra peered around the side of her screen. “Yes. Of what importance is that?”

  “The rogue simulant and the human woman have previously demonstrated a desire to capture other Hunter simulants. The Casey Valera unit from Way Station G-7J00, for example. Perhaps they are trying to rescue other units?”

  This had not occurred to Adra, but the suggestion made sense, and aligned with the weak sentimentality that crippled all human minds, whether natural or grown in a lab. She brushed her screen off to one side and pressed her hands behind her back. Lux’s explanation, though mere supposition, provided the logical answer she needed.

  “Your analysis has merit.” This was the closest to giving praise that Adra had ever come, and Lux very nearly smiled. “We must jump to the system immediately, before they have an opportunity to escape.”

  Lux nodded and then transferred his pre-calculated jump program to Adra’s screen. “We can reach the reclamation facility in three jumps if we extend to maximum jump range,” explained Lux, “I have plotted the first jump and the ship will be ready momentarily.”

  “No, that will take too long,” said Adra, who had already reviewed Lux’s proposed jump route. She pulled her screen back towards her and adjusted Lux’s jump program, plotting a direct course from their current location to Cygnus G7-530, before processing the new set of jump calculations. She waited impatiently as the new jump program executed, aware that Lux was hovering in her peripheral vision, also eagerly awaiting her proposed solution. Finally, the calculations were complete and the corners of Adra’s thin lips curled into the genesis of a smile, before her mouth straightened like an arrow once more. She sent the calculations to Lux’s screen. “Plot this course, and initiate when ready.”

  Lux turned to review the new jump program, which initially made no sense to him. He briefly considered questioning Adra’s command, but then he finally understood what she was proposing and his heart began to race. He turned back to his commander to confirm her order, risking her wrath in order to be certain it was what she really wanted to do.

  “If I may confirm, Provost… your course indicates a double jump?” Adra merely nodded. Blood was pounding in Lux’s ears, but he controlled his response, “At once, Provost,” he said, before turning back to face the front of the bridge and sucking in a sharp intake of breath. He knocked the primary pilot simulant on the shoulder, a little harder than he’d intended, due to the adrenaline surging in his body, and then tried to prepare himself, mentally and physically, for the ordeal that was to come.

  A double jump was a highly dangerous and arguably reckless maneuver, made ten times more precarious for the Hedaltus race, due to its genetic frailty to super-luminal travel. A double jump involved travelling along a thread of the Fabric to a super-luminal node at the furthest extremes of the ship’s jump range, pushing the jump engines to the limit of their capabilities. This alone was risky enough – if the jump engines failed mid-jump, the ship would implode and be consumed by the Fabric; converted to pure energy. But even if they survived the first jump, the next stage was just as harrowing. Rather than return fully to normal space, the jump computer would immediately initiate a second jump, carrying forward the energy of the primary jump, like skimming a flat stone across the surface of smooth lake water. The second jump was blind, but like landing on a trampoline from a great height, it had the effect of spring-boarding the ship a tremendous distance, far in excess of a regular jump, all in one seamless maneuver. However, the risk of serious damage was great, even for a ship as strong and powerful as Adra’s War Frigate. But the risk to their own minds and bodies was even greater. Both Adra and Lux carried the genetic mutation that allowed them to endure super-luminal jumps, and both were mentally and physically amongst the elite of Warfare Command. But even for them the immense strain of a double jump risked more than mere injury – it risked death.

  The pilot simulant indicated that the jump was ready and Lux anxiously reviewed the ship’s status on his console. Warning chevrons flashed beside every primary system, along with a message that simply read, ‘Discontinue jump. High Risk of Fatal Exposure.’ Lux clenched his teeth and hesitantly cleared all of the warnings, before turning to face Provost Adra, “The jump is ready, Provost,” he announced, somehow managing to sound calm and unconcerned, despite being wracked with fear and apprehension.

  Adra waved her screen away, aware that Lux was still facing her. She knew what he would be thinking, and also knew he would not challenge her on it. But she realized what she was demanding of him. Previously, she would not have given a nanosecond of thought to his feelings or even his safety, but Lux had proven to be a surprisingly loyal and committed adjutant. This was in spite of Adra’s flagrant and serious breaches of regulations, which would also potentially impact on his own future. He had earned her respect, something few others had ever come close to. Adra stepped down from the command platform and stood in front of Lux, and though she still towered over him, she met his eyes on a more equal footing than she had ever done before.

  “I will not pretend that this action does not present great risk, to both of us,” Adra began, “but we must ensure that we arrive before the humans and their rogue simulant pets flee once again.”

  “I understand, Provost Adra,” said Lux. Adra’s gesture of stepping down from the command platform had not been lost on him, and though it did nothing to assuage his fears, it gave him courage enough to face them. “We will catch them off guard, and force them to reveal everything. Victory will soon be yours. I am with y
ou.”

  “Then jump when ready,” said Adra, holding his eyes for a moment longer, before returning to the center of the command platform. She briefly considered moving to one of the side consoles, or to another location on the bridge where she would be able to steady herself against the torture that would soon grip her mind and body. But the reality was that there was nowhere on the ship where she could escape the consequences of what they were about to do. If she was to fall then she would do it where she belonged – on the command platform with nothing to support her but her strength and the power of her will.

  Lux positioned himself at his station between the two pilot simulants and took several long breaths, drawing them in slowly and letting them out with the same measure of control. Then he dug in his heels and tapped the primary pilot simulant on the shoulder with the back of his hand, aware and ashamed that it was trembling slightly, despite all his attempts to steady his nerves. He then watched as the jump counter ran down, and with each changing second his heart-rate climbed higher and higher.

  Five...

  F o u r. . .

  T h r e e. . .

  T w o . . .

  O n e . . .

  TWELVE

  The War Frigate dropped into the Fabric and Adjutant Lux collapsed into darkness, where he experienced only disembodied consciousness and an unbearable, unyielding sensation of pain. It was if his entire existence had been distilled down to millions of exposed nerves. The agony built and built and just when it seemed like it would never end the bridge finally began to materialize. He could feel his body again, if only through the pain that flooded into his bones and limbs and muscles like water gushing from a dam. But no sooner had reality begun to assert itself than he was squashed into oblivion again. Except this time the pain followed him and was multiplied ten-fold. There was no release mechanism; no way to scream or to bite down or even to pass out – it just existed and there was no option other than to endure it.

  There was a bright flash and Lux felt his head land heavily on something solid, but there was no additional pain. It was simply not possible to be in any more agony than he already was. Slowly, sensations other than pain began to return to his extremities, and the shrill whistle that pierced his ears and mind began to give way to other sounds. His eyes pulsed in and out of focus, but he could see well enough to realize that his face was resting against a console. He pushed himself away, hands slipping on something wet and sticky. He held a hand up to his face and saw that it was covered in blood. He heard a voice, but could not make out the words. He turned, trying to place the sound but his legs gave way from under him and he slid down against the console, clawing desperately with his hands to find purchase on anything that would prevent a humiliating fall. Above him to either side were the anonymous faces of the two pilot simulants, oblivious to his suffering and injury, mindlessly staring out at the viewport ahead of them.

  “Lux!”

  He heard the shout clearly this time and felt hands clasped underneath his arms, hoisting him up. Other sounds registered in his ears and he rubbed them, trying to clear the ringing, but his fingers came away smeared with red once again. He blinked blood from his eyes and looked into the face of Provost Adra, bleeding from her eyes, nose and ears. She looked half dead, but still had twice the strength that he did.

  “Lux, can you hear me?” asked Adra, forcing her Adjutant to stand. Then she guided his blood-soaked hands to the metal frames of the two pilot’s chairs. Lux grabbed them automatically, in the same way a baby might instinctively grip a rattle if it were placed in her hand. “We’re here, Lux. We made it!” shouted Adra, her voice triumphant.

  Lux coughed and then spat blood onto Adra’s armored jacket, “Apologies Provost,” he spluttered weakly, mortified and ashamed of himself for not being as strong as she was.

  Adra released her hold on Lux and then dragged the secondary pilot simulant from its seat, an act that took a hundred times more effort than it would normally have required from her. Then she grabbed Lux by the waist and lowered him into the seat. An adjutant would never normally be permitted to sit in the presence of a provost, but Adra had demonstrated a disregard for protocol before, and this was no exception.

  “I… am... ready... for duty… Provost,” Lux protested, trying desperately to stand, but there was no strength in his muscles. Blood dripped from his eyes and nose and splashed across the armor plating on his thighs, as Adra pressed him back into the seat, where he finally gave up and let himself go limp.

  Adra left Lux and staggered to a nearby console, barging the simulant stationed there out of her way, while other simulants ran around the bridge, working frantically to repair the damage, the extent of which Adra was not even aware. She input commands with blood-stained fingers and waited for the results to appear, but she was met only with error messages and warnings about critical systems. All she knew for sure was that they were in the correct system – the navigation computer had confirmed that much – but beyond this she was blind. If the rogue Hunter Corvette was in the system, she had no way of knowing.

  Adra pounded the console with the bottom of her fists and staggered back in front of the viewport. Displayed on the giant screen, which flickered and crackled with interference, was a barren-looking planet, and in the foreground was the reclamation facility. You are here somewhere, I know it! thought Adra. But you will not escape me again. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lux slide backwards and fall from the secondary pilot’s chair, landing on the deck like a freshly slaughtered animal.

  Adra watched Lux’s quivering body for a second and then stepped back onto her command platform, each step feeling like a knife was being stabbed into her legs. “I want sensors online, now!” she roared, addressing the anonymous simulants as a collective. “And get me to that reclamation facility!” Blood splattered across the faces of passing simulants as she screamed words into the open air. “All simulants online, now! Repair this ship!” Suddenly the bridge door swung open and another ten simulants ran inside, rushing to various stations, or pulling open panels and disappearing into the guts of the enormous vessel. One ran towards Adra, heading for a damaged station at the front of the bridge, but she caught its arm and hauled it towards her, so that its blank face was mere inches from her own. “Heal him,” she commanded, and her eyes flicked towards the unconscious body of Adjutant Lux. “If he dies, I will tear that pathetic human brain from your skull!” She pushed the simulant towards Lux and stared up at the viewport again. I know you’re here… she told herself again. I know it!

  But as Adra watched, she was unaware that the scorpion-like shape of a Hunter Corvette had already entered the atmosphere and was heading to the surface of the planet.

  THIRTEEN

  Following Taylor’s dramatic success in disabling the Hedalt scout ship, it had been relatively smooth sailing to reach the planet. Instead of focusing on the disruption in the debris field that had been caused by Casey’s accidental collision with an unstable piece of space flotsam, the breaking yard had dispatched a search and rescue crew to recover the stricken scout. With all of their attention focused on the rescue, Casey had been able to slip by undetected. Also, thanks to her laser-like focus driven by the guilt from her earlier mistake, she had not collided with a single other item of space junk. In itself this was a feat almost as remarkable as Taylor’s near mystical power to disrupt technology from inside the Fabric.

  The heavy industrialization of the planet’s surface had been largely concentrated in the northern hemisphere and equatorial regions, leaving the area around where the reserve base had been hidden untouched. Though, as James had noted during Casey’s approach, the mines and refineries and general infrastructure on the planet were creeping ever southward. Sooner or later, the Hedalt would have discovered the base.

  As it was, Casey had managed to guide them to the surface without being detected. This, and the requirement to skim low over the rocky terrain in order to reach the lava tube undetected, had gone a long way
to improving the quirky pilot’s dented spirits. But though the cave tunnel leading into the lava tube was actually wider than the one leading to the main Contingency base, the cavern itself was barely a fifth the size.

  Several hours had elapsed since Casey had set the Contingency One down next to the two larger transport ships that had remained buried in the cave for centuries. After an initial scan, they were relieved to find the base was operational, including all of the five hundred and fifty stasis chambers. Five hundred of these were flight crew – mostly pilots and tactical and technical specialists – plus fifty fully-qualified captains. Taylor had been concerned that this would mean some of ninety-nine Nimrod-class cruisers back at the main base would need to be commanded by inexperienced or even unqualified crew members, but Sonner had shrugged this off. “We don’t need them to be able to pass the captain’s exam,” she had said, “We just need folk who can keep a calm head under fire, and who know how to shoot back.” The other fifty stasis pods contained a variety of support crew for the reserve base; medical staff, engineers, administrators and command-level admin officers.

  James had been tasked with overseeing the operation to wake the crew. Due to the fact that the reserve base had been designed to remain inactive until needed, the stasis chambers had been specifically configured for longer-term hibernation. This had meant that the freshly thawed-out reserve crew members were not suffering from anything like the severity of hibernation sickness that Sonner and those on the asteroid base had been compelled to endure. This was fortunate for all concerned, as it meant that the process of loading everyone on-board the two transport ships was already nearing completion. No-one wanted to remain on an enemy-occupied planet for any longer than was necessary.