Silver Search

by Rock Whitehouse

  Silver Search

  An ISCFleet Novel

  The second book

  in the

  Preeminent War

  Series

  Rock Whitehouse

  Copyright (c) 2019 by Rock Whitehouse

  Published by BOHICASquared, LLC

  www.iscfleet.com

  www.rock-whitehouse.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission.

  ISBN: 978-1-7327666-3-1 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-1-7327666-2-4 (paperback)

  Cover by damonza.com

  This is a work of fiction.

  Any similarity to actual persons living,

  or dead,

  or yet to be born,

  or any actual event,

  past, present, or future,

  is still either pure coincidence

  or blind dumb luck.

  Take your pick.

  In God We Trust.

  (All others we monitor.)

  Unofficial Army Security Agency/Air Force Security Service motto.

  Authors Note

  Thanks for picking up Silver Search. This is the second book the in three-volume Preeminent War series, which began with Silver Enigma and will finish with Silver Victory.

  In this part, we pick up where Silver Enigma left off, with Carol and David together (finally!) at Fleet HQ, and Joanne Henderson's Intrepid out dispensing the first set of 'Sentinel' surveillance drones to watch for the enemy. The mystery at Beta Hydri (d) 'Big Blue' awaits the return of Antares, and David is set to begin a hopeful new chapter in his career with Dan Smith on Columbia.

  Silver Search will answer some questions left open in Silver Enigma, and will hopefully leave you with even more interesting questions by the end.

  Some readers have noted the use of military terms and acronyms in Silver Enigma. I have provided a list of the acronyms and terms at the back of the book. Anytime one is trying to tell a multi-threaded story like this one, the cast of characters can grow fairly large. To help with that, there's also a list of significant characters at the back of the book. Both lists can also be found at iscfleet.com/bonus-material.

  I've also had questions about the stars in the story. Beta Hydri, GL 674, and the rest are all actual stars, depicted in their actual positions. A lot of them are red dwarf stars, because, well, there are a lot of red dwarfs around. It's the most populous type of star in the galaxy.

  I hope you will find this 'a very good sequel' to Silver Enigma, as one beta-reader described it.

  As always, I'm interested in your questions and comments, so shoot me an email at rock@iscfleet.com.

  Rock Whitehouse

  September, 2019

  July 2078

  Central Council Chambers

  The Preeminent Home World

  Earth Equivalent Date: July 22, 2078

  The air in the Central Council Chamber was cool and dry, a draft flowing down on the occupants from an unseen opening in the ceiling. The room around them was dark, the walls dimly down-lit from fixtures along the nearly invisible line where they met the ceiling. A single overhead white light intensely illuminated the long table they gathered around. The Chamber was silent but for the whisper of the ventilation system.

  The entrance to The Revered First's inner sanctum was dark, heavy drapes pulled across the door. Hess Tse Sim sat quietly at the small end of the table, awaiting the decision of The Revered First, as delivered by The Respected Second, Jaf Seen Toft, seated opposite him. Arrayed on each side were the eight Counselors of The First. Jaf raised his cold green eyes to Hess, his coarse, leathery face creased in disgust, casting threatening shadows across his cheeks.

  "Two full cohorts lost, Hess Tse Sim. Ten thousand."

  "Yes, Respected Second, this is true." Sim felt acutely uncomfortable, an unusual emotion for a Preeminent. He suddenly wished he were back on the bridge of his silver battle cruiser, and he struggled to suppress the nervous wiggle of his tail-stump.

  "Two ships lost; three others damaged." Jaf sat immobile for a moment. "This has never happened in all the years we have been bringing inferior species to the condition of obsequia."

  "We are The Preeminent, Second," Hess responded.

  "We are, indeed, but are you?"

  Hess thought carefully about what to say. The wrong response would be costly.

  "This Council, Respected Second, and the Revered First, all approved the action to annex the Deists."

  "They would never yield, Hess Tse Sim. The First advised you of this."

  "The Deists were not the problem, Respected Second. We could have taken them as easily as we did the ignorant, undiscerning Scholars some sixty revolutions ago. There was another unincorporated culture present."

  "And this culture defeated you with a single vessel?" Third Counselor Ashil Kiker demanded.

  "As I have reported, Admired Third Kiker, once the cohorts were lost, we had not the resources to assert our natural authority."

  "So, Hess Tse Sim, you were indeed defeated by a single mystery vessel?"

  "Yes, Admired Third, that is ultimately true. We did, however, destroy it as well."

  "And what have you learned from this?" Jaf asked, retaking control.

  "They are very advanced, Respected Second. A drive like ours, similar communications, and weapons we must respect."

  "Respect?" cried Ashil Kiker. "We are the Preeminent. We take respect. We command worship. We do not give it."

  Hess Tse Sim did not respond. Perhaps he may have given the wrong response.

  "The decision is made, Hess Tse Sim. Your discipline shall be here and now."

  "I accept the judgement of the Council, Respected Second." He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his large clawed hands covering his eyes in the traditional position of submission. A rebuke was forthcoming, he knew, perhaps a demotion, but certainly no dishonor.

  They seized him with enthusiasm, their sharp teeth and claws tearing the flesh from his bones. The Second was favored with his organs. The rest consumed him quickly, but his cries lasted longer than most, as he had proved to be an inferior instance, and they chose not to be merciful.

  The head was left as a prize for The First. He would allow it to mature on his food shelf for several rotations, and once the scent was fully ripe and the contents tenderized, he would consume it.

  Intrepid

  GL 832

  Monday, July 25. 2078, 0845 UTC

  An ISC Fleet ship's hangar deck was a large and complex structure. To preserve the internal ship atmosphere, incoming shuttles first arrived in a docking airlock not much bigger than the shuttle itself. Once inside the ShuttleLock, the outer doors would close and the inside of the airlock would be re-pressurized. The inner doors then opened and the shuttle moved into the large internal hangar.

  Today, Intrepid's shuttle would be used to launch the first Sentinel surveillance drone. The Sentinel was a new invention from FleetIntel that could watch a star system continuously, permitting the Fleet's limited and valuable ship resources to be used elsewhere. On this long trip, Intrepid would release the first six at their assigned stars.

  Lieutenant Natalie Hayden, Intrepid's Weapons Maintenance Officer, was moving all around the hangar, hovering, more or less, as her techs took the first Sentinel off its shipping cradle and loaded it on a transport cart. Once on the cart, they used the same portable lift to pick a Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator (RTG) power supply off its pallet and move it to the back end of the Sentinel. Intrepid's Intel Chief, Warrant Officer Ben Price, was already there, and together with the Weapons crew, he and Hayden slid the RTG into place and secured the six latches that held it on the probe.

  "Hey, Lieutenant Hay
den," Ben called, "maybe we should sign it?"

  Natalie looked at him blankly. "Sign it?"

  "Yeah, like they used to sign bombs. Let's just get a marker and get the launch crew to sign on the inside of that last access door."

  Hayden remained skeptical. "No one will ever see it, Price."

  "Maybe not. But it would be fun for the crew, right?" The Chief heard this and piped in that he thought it would be a good idea.

  "Should we ask Captain Henderson?" Price asked.

  "Is there the slightest chance she'd say no?" Natalie responded, her inner mischievous streak starting to warm up to the idea.

  "Yes."

  "Then hell no we're not asking her." She pulled a marker from her sleeve pocket and handed it to the most junior member of the Weapons crew. They each signed their names, Price and Hayden last. Price ran the initial system checks from his NETComp and pronounced it ready. They carefully moved the cart into the shuttle, then clamped the cart to the floor. When Hayden took the shuttle out and reversed the gravity in the cargo bay, it wouldn't pay to have the cart leave with the Sentinel. Once the shuttle was in position outside, she would remove the straps holding the probe down before opening the cargo doors.

  They came out of FTL an hour later close to the desired orbit. In a couple hours, the ship was right where it needed to be, and it was time to put the Sentinel overboard. Price headed forward to the Intel section where he would perform the post-launch checkout. Hayden reread her deployment procedure and settled into the shuttle cockpit. She slipped on a headset and powered up the shuttle. In a few seconds, the shuttle reported itself ready for duty, and she could select the comms channel they had agreed on beforehand.

  "Jesse, this is Nat," she called.

  "We hear you, Natalie," Jesse Woodward, the Communications Officer, responded in his low baritone. They often kidded him about his disc jockey delivery. "Price, are you up?"

  "I'm here, Lieutenant Woodward. We're ready in Intel."

  Hayden closed the shuttle cockpit door, and the Weapons crew moved the shuttle in and closed the inner door. She could see the lock status on her panel, so once the inner door reported closed, she began venting the ShuttleLock.

  "Opening outer door," she said as she commanded the action. In a few seconds, the door was open, and with one touch of the control stick, she moved the shuttle out of Intrepid. As she did, the red dwarf star, about half the size of the sun, flooded the cockpit with its yellow-orange light. The windows auto-tinted, but there was a limit to how dark they could get. It was still pretty bright inside, and she quickly found her red filter sunglasses and slapped them on.

  Hayden moved the shuttle out about a kilometer, a tiny distance in astronomical terms but far enough that the two-meter-long laser communications scope on top of Intrepid could see the Sentinel. She set the shuttle to hold its position.

  "OK, I'm going back to unstrap it." She took off her headset and slipped off her safety harness. It was a tight turn to get from the left seat to the cargo bay access door, and she needed to be careful not to bang her head on the top of the bay entry. Once through the door, she removed the straps holding the Sentinel to the cart and secured them underneath. She made her way back to the cockpit, double checking that she had closed the access door correctly. Retaking the left seat, she buckled herself back in and slipped the communications headset back on.

  "OK, it's unstrapped," she said, reaching for the cargo door open control. "Opening the doors now." She heard the whistle of the cargo atmosphere leaving, then the quiet hum of the door mechanism. Doors open, she reached for the cargo bay's G-floor control.

  "Here goes." She moved the control from plus-one to minus-point-one. As she did, the Sentinel slowly rose from the secured cart and moved out of the open cargo doors. She watched it on the cargo bay video monitor.

  "It's out, Price."

  Price commanded the laser comm system to connect to the Sentinel. As the status indicators lit up, he let the others know. "Connection is made," he reported. "Starting checkout sequence." His first task was to command the Sentinel to find its three navigation stars. It took several minutes for it to determine its orientation and swing into the correct position. Finally, the Sentinel reported itself ready.

  "OK Lieutenant Hayden, it's good to go. Only twenty minutes, less than I expected."

  "Fine, returning." The shuttle moved back into the ship through the ShuttleLock. As Hayden stepped out, Ben Price was entering the hangar from forward.

  "Looks good so far, " he said. "I didn't see any problems, did you?"

  Hayden shook her head. "No, nothing. Went smooth."

  She walked towards the hangar's forward passage entry, Price in step with her.

  "Lunch?"

  Hayden smiled and nodded her agreement, and they headed to the wardroom together.

  August 2078

  ISC Fleet HQ Intel Section

  Ft. Eustis, VA

  Tuesday, August 2, 2078, 0830 EDT

  David and Carol enjoyed their free Sunday together, having spent Saturday evening at the Harris' cookout. After brunch at the Bachelor Officers' Quarters (BOQ), they spent much of the afternoon walking the post, their desire for real air and sunshine still not nearly satisfied. Later, they got off the post for dinner in town. In a quiet back corner booth, they talked about how natural it felt, how easy it was for them to be together. This, they knew, is where they had both been heading all along. But this respite from the war was only for that one day, and they recognized how fortunate it was that they had even that much time. When Monday came, the war would be back in the front of their minds, and there would be work waiting for both of them.

  David spent Monday in a borrowed Intel workroom reviewing the scan data from the battle Sigma had fought with the enemy at GL 876, correlating it with his own written report. The Flight Data Recorder (FDR) didn't lie, so if he found a discrepancy between his own recollections in his report and the FDR dump, he knew the dump wasn't wrong. It was hard to see that his memory of the timing and sequence of events might not be perfect, but it clearly wasn't, so he worked most of the day getting it all to line up in a narrative that he could live with. He felt he owed it to his lost shipmates to be as clear and accurate as he could be.

  Carol sat with Kathy Stewart, whom she found to be a delightful work partner, to prioritize the list of academic candidates for the return mission to Beta Hydri. It was hard; some candidates looked good initially but did not seem to have the required personality. If you were not a demonstrated team player, you went to the bottom of the list, maybe lower. Younger was better, but not to the point that it meant inexperience. Regular fieldwork was a definite plus, as this was to be a hands-on expedition. They considered gender and nationality irrelevant, except that they had to be a citizen of an ISC-treaty country.

  Tuesday morning found David and Carol walking to work together from the BOQ. It was a warm, rainy day and they were glad for the covered walkway stretching from their quarters to Fleet HQ. She was planning to sit in on his presentation to FleetIntel on behalf of Antares, as would Terri Michael. Jack Ballard, who would normally attend any briefing in FleetIntel, was busy with mission planning. Later in the morning, David would meet with Frances Wilson and a mysterious FPI engineer known only as 'Lloyd.' As they entered the Intel Section, David caught sight of Terri Michael for the first time since he'd returned. He walked directly to her; his hand extended.

  "Good morning, ma'am."

  "Hello, Powell, it's good to see you again." She took his hand and shook it firmly.

  "I just wanted to tell you again, in person this time, how grateful I am to you."

  Terri smiled and leaned her head towards Carol. "Truthfully, it was your partner Carol here who did it. I just delivered the message to CINC."

  "Still, without you, it would not have happened, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it."

  Terri nodded, then put her hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations, Powell, you earned it."

 
Ron Harris had entered in the middle of this discussion. "So, now that we're all so happy and appreciated can we, like, get some work done?"

  They moved on into the conference room.

  "Lieutenant Powell—has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?" Harris said, playing along just a little.

  David smiled broadly. "It does, sir!"

  "So, Lieutenant Powell, tell us what your thoughts are on the tracking."

  "Well, sir, the scan data is in the report. The first Type I came out of FTL almost behind us—a bearing of 170 degrees. And then it just hung there. I had several conversations with John Sanders, and he was very apprehensive as well." David paused to take a breath.

  "Go on, David," Terri Michael prompted.

  "Yes, ma'am. So, after an hour, Commander Davis decides to strike, and just as he does, the next Type I appears, also just pacing us."

  Carol leaned forward, "The data shows that these ships kept a constant position and range. They could not possibly have done that without knowing exactly where Sigma was and her course."

  David nodded. "Yes, clearly. One of the most disconcerting things for me was the accuracy. Sanders said that they were holding a constant position within the accuracy of our sensors' abilities to measure it."

  "So, tell me about your conversation with Ensign Farley."

  David slumped back a little, remembering Leah, then regained himself.

  "Well, sir, she called me —I think it was after the second set of hits. This isn't in the audio on the FDR. She was back in the Comms Equipment area, and she and Jeff Shaw were looking at something. She was talking about periodic fluctuations, and then she was cut off by the next strike."

  "Well," Terri Michael began, thinking about what she could remember of SLIP system operations, "this was after a SLIP message was sent, right?"