Star Destroyers

by Tony Daniel

  The Colorado might have an advantage with its drives, but it was handicapped with regard to its telemetry equipment. Sonar remained the most accurate, but not the only means of reading the topography. Instead of a periscope, the Virginia-class vessel was equipped with photonic sensors and infrared scopes, all passive detectors that aided in navigation. Engineers retrofitted Colorado with the latest imaging technology and a full file of 3D maps taken from space of Monaday. Running through the dark waters, Nurys wished fervently that she could ping ahead and above to see where the enemy was. The Truchs were able to use sonar and radar, running waves of pings in patterns. The enemy’s little scouts flew low reconnaissance patterns over the water, smoking anything that moved with depth charges. The Colorado’s cameras picked up little above the surface, but they had spotted numerous dead Deep floating, thanks to the trigger-happy Truchs. Colorado had to run as deep and as fast as possible, doing its best to avoid a random ping.

  “What do we see out there?” Nurys asked, coming to lean over the telemetry station. The operator, Ensign Marcel Lim, who would normally also be operating sonar, turned the auxiliary three-dimensional screen toward the captain.

  Lim gave her a quick glance over his shoulder before displaying each view of the telemetry one by one.

  “Nothing unusual, sir. Kind of pretty out there, though.”

  Her star pupil during the last term, he knew the control board by heart. Like most of the others, he did his best to control his disappointment at being yanked back from his permanent assignment for the trip to Monaday. Nurys knew she could count on Lim.

  Stats in white rolled up the scope over the blue-green images of the sea around them. They were cruising at fifteen knots at a depth of four hundred meters, well above their maximum operating depth. At that moment, they were traversing a channel in between islands in the archipelago where the IMV was operating. Optical arrays attached to the Unified Modular Mast and superior to ones that the Colorado had used on Earth gave her a pretty clear picture for a radius of two thousand meters in every direction. They had been a gift from the Lits, part of humanity’s reward for undertaking the rescue mission. With Earth a thousand years or more behind their newfound acquaintances, they needed every technological advance that they could obtain. Still, without sonar, they couldn’t move faster than about half maximum speed. Nurys damped down her feelings of impatience. They had enough time to comply with the Giliks, if only the IMV cooperated.

  “Well, you all complained about not getting to see the new planet,” she said, with a wry smile. “You’ve got a lot of interesting terrain out there. Kind of like the Hawaiian islands on steroids. For a wet world, this thing has a hot core.”

  Lim gave her a sheepish shrug. She knew what they were thinking. She’d have liked more of a chance to see the surface side, too, but that wasn’t the mission.

  The sub arrowed through winding canyons of jagged peaks. Monaday’s sea floor was covered by huge volcanoes that sloped upward from tectonically active spreading centers on the sea floor and broke the surface as islands. In between their roots, smaller caldera that wouldn’t reach air for millions of years shot plumes of hot gray steam at the sub’s underside, bubbling up around it, as if the mantle wanted to feed new saplings but keep the older trees alive.

  Because of the heat, the craggy sides of the archipelagoes teemed with sea plants that rivaled even the most fertile oceans on Earth, dark blue-green with a hyperactive chlorophyll that made Monaday’s oceans far more oxygen rich than Earth’s. Munching on the plant life were herds of Deeps.

  The immense black-gray creatures were as docile as cows. They bumped gently around one another to get to the choice plants. Even when the Colorado sailed within tens of meters of them, they turned the mildest of glances from the trio of oversized purple-black eyes on either side of their massive heads. Until the Truchs had invaded, the Deeps had no natural predators. Whatever evolution would have provided them had failed and become extinct. Nurys dismissed the Deeps as no threat.

  According to the briefing she and the crew had received, the Deeps did just what their name suggested. The local biologics lived at a couple hundred meters below sea level. They surfaced occasionally to breathe and to give birth. The only signs of intelligence above animal were their ability to compose and share complex musical arrangements with one another, and their empathy. The Lits insisted that they could communicate emotions as well as music. A Lit envoy on an inspection tour of Monaday had reported distress signals from herd after herd. On further investigation, they had discovered modular factories in several coves. Millions of gallons of sea floor were sucked up to the surface and stripped of rare minerals. The chemical outflow was burning the Deeps’ hides and killing their fragile young. Nurys didn’t like to think what would happen if one of her sailors had to float in the soup pouring out of the factories.

  “Ping sweep coming this way!” radar tech Elena Esperanza announced, one hand on her earpiece. “About five hundred meters away.”

  “Dive to six hundred,” Nurys said at once. She grabbed onto the nearest handhold as the helm obeyed the order and the floor tilted under her feet. “Move us toward that mountainside. See if you can tell if that’s coming from the mothership or the line of scouts.”

  “Aye, sir.” The helm officer, Ensign Noelle Cartwright, laid in the coordinates.

  The rough slope ahead seemed to ascend in the scopes as Colorado dipped into a deep, dark chasm. Not even the Deeps floated down there. Black coraloids almost the size of the sub wafted in their wake. Tiny, bright orange and yellow triangles with cilia instead of tail fins, this world’s version of fish, shot across the bow like an explosion of fireworks.

  Up there, in atmosphere and in orbit, the Truchs were actively searching for Samawa. The IMV was going to be hard to find, thank God. Because most of their technology was mechanical, it didn’t send up electronic signals that could be easily read by scanners from space. Instead, that meant the enemy had to fly methodically over each of the island clusters to find the medics, a veritable needle in a widely scattered basketful of pincushions. Nurys clutched that to her as an advantage, because the periodic swings of sonar slowed her down further.

  Over the speakers, the high-pitched screech increased in volume until it caused them all to wince. Just as swiftly, it faded away toward planetary east.

  “Back to cruising depth, sir?” Cartwright asked, her long, dark fingers on the controls.

  Nurys looked up at the ceiling. “Not yet.” She held her breath. Wait for it. Wait for it . . .

  From northwest, a series of screeches ricocheted all around their location, a hailstorm of sound clattering against the peaks and outcroppings of rock. Nurys grimaced. Random sonar sweeps were their biggest danger. If they were caught out in open sea, those were the most likely to point them out to the Truchs. Ensign Muhammad Bahri, at fire control, held his hands lightly over the controls, ready to launch missiles or torpedoes on command.

  Another piece of Lit tech, the ion scope, displayed the source of those random hits. Eight noisy little bogeys zipped overhead in a staggered line. By their heading, they were sweeping the seas around a big island group thirty klicks to starboard. Nurys waited longer, until she was sure they weren’t coming back around.

  “Resume course,” she said.

  The audible sigh of relief on the bridge echoed her own. The helm corrected the trim and brought them up to cruising level. No one was certain if the tiny flyers were scout ships or unmanned drones. They were looking for ion trails or any unusual movement, neither of which she intended to provide them. The Colorado’s drive thrummed back to life. They resumed crawling along the sea floor.

  She glanced uneasily at the chronometer above the telemetry station, and swabbed her face and neck again with her handkerchief.

  “Life support, how are we looking?”

  “CO2 saturation is fifteen percent above optimum, ma’am,” Lieutenant Philip Rafik replied. He was one of the few experienced officers t
hey had been able to pull for duty. “I’m kicking up the hydroxide filtration system. If we can raise the snorkel mast in the next hour and just vent the whole fish, it’ll smell a lot better in here.”

  Nurys tapped Lim on the shoulder. “Find us a place to cruise. We’ll take a chance on the local atmosphere.”

  She swung into the command chair surrounded by its own array of scopes. It had been so long since she had commanded a ship during war, her nerves twitched constantly. Every little thing that was different was another thing that could go wrong. She not only had all these kids to care for, but humanity’s entire future among interstellar races hung on her back. There was no way to speed up their progress. All she could do was hope that Samawa would remain undetected until they could reach him. If he protested, she would drag him on board with her own hands.

  “There, sir,” Lim said, his voice all but whispering from the speaker near her head. On the telemetry screen, red arrows pointed to a gray outcropping about fifty meters above them. Once it had been a bubble in the lava that formed the volcanic island overhead. When it burst, it created a giant cave that was more than large enough to hold the sub. At her command, they slowed to a crawl and edged partway beneath the overhang. It brought them within fifty meters of the surface. If the Truchs swung around for another pass and they got lucky, they stood a chance of detecting them, but Nurys was willing to give it a chance.

  The clank and whir of the mast ascending from the UMM were almost intrusive noises. At most distances, the sounds would be swallowed by the sea, but she was afraid that the aliens had listening devices capable of hearing and detecting unusual sounds. The snorkel’s umbilical hissed as it rose along the black tube. In a few minutes, the pumps kicked on full, and moist, cool air flooded the hot cabin. Nurys gulped in deep breaths.

  “That smells . . . really green,” Lim said, a smile creasing his smooth, tan face.

  Nurys’s mouth tweaked up in the corner. Not a bad description. The fresh air reminded her of the salt air on Earth, but flavored with something a little spicy, like ginger and parsley. In a different reality, to quote Star Trek, this would be a planet safe for humanity to visit. Maybe in the future, if they were successful, and the Lits managed to throw the Truchs off it.

  The pumps clattered into silence. Rafik gave the captain a thumbs-up. Oxygen had risen to the correct level and the ambient temperature had dropped a good five degrees. It felt chilly at the moment, but it was probably much closer to the optimum twenty Celsius.

  “Okay,” she said. “Resume course, heading eighty-seven degrees off planetary north, terrain permitting.”

  They left the shelter of the cave. A couple of klicks beyond, the cavern suddenly opened out into a rolling, sandy plain. The triangular fish teemed here, along with a lot of albino life-forms surprised by the sub’s forward lights.

  Every pause to avoid sonar added hours to the sub’s progress. Over the next couple of days, Nurys found herself watching the chrono as much as she listened to the approach and departure of the detection signals. The antisonar technology incorporated into Colorado’s hull was a natural defense against Earth-level sweeps, but they couldn’t count on defeating the advanced tech of the Truchs.

  News from interstellar services came in through the communications gear, too. Teams from the Lits and the Giliks were in orbit around Monaday, covering the space war and decrying the violence against the Deeps. The hand (or paw)-wringing speculation, which was translated into English via a largely imperfect system, gave the crew something to talk about during mess. It served to pinpoint where the Truch searches were going on, and as a platform for Samawa to continue to rail against the Truch.

  “. . . Many of the islands suffer ongoing explosions,” a gravelly voice intoned. “Peace used to reign on this beautiful planet. Nature is under attack, and for what reason? The purity of the water is unsurpassed! The creatures are innocent! They should not have to endure either pollution or intrusion!”

  Nurys leaned on one elbow and stared blearily into her breakfast cereal bowl, trying not to be annoyed.

  “The Truchs are getting very close to that northeastern archipelago,” Executive Officer Ehud Abram said, coming into the tiny officer’s wardroom for a cup of coffee. For him, it was end of shift. For her, just the beginning of another long haul.

  “I’m aware, XO,” Nurys snapped. The tall, dark-haired officer stiffened his shoulders. Nurys made a wry face. He looked tired. She shouldn’t take out her irritation on him. “Apologies, I just wish I could reach through the speaker and haul Samawa on board to shut him up.”

  “An activist is an activist,” Abram said, his mouth twisting in a grin. “You wonder how he has so much time to broadcast when he’s supposed to be delivering giant babies.”

  Nurys shook her head. “Every time he goes on the air, I worry that the Truchs are going to trace his location. How come they haven’t?”

  “Digital feed from remote transmitters. He seems to have planted a dozen of them all over Monaday when he landed here. The Truchs have blown up about half of them, but he has no intention of being silent. I admire that.”

  “Dammit, so do I,” Nurys said. “But he’s making it harder for us.”

  “He doesn’t care. He believes in his cause. I can respect that.”

  “Commander!” the voice of the radio operator interrupted them. “Another sweep coming!”

  Nurys sprang to her feet. She followed Abram out of the wardroom at a run.

  All along the corridor, the crew was strapping into their bunks or into stationary positions.

  The scopes on the bridge showed the approaching line of sonar probes. Abram threw himself into the command chair and strapped in. Nurys took a side seat.

  The view ahead showed the plain they had been traveling for the last day and a half. Ahead, no more than thirty klicks, was a narrow crevasse that would be a great hiding place, but at the rate of approach, the Colorado couldn’t make it there in time. They were exposed. Nurys felt the prickle of fear down the back of her neck.

  “Make like a rock, people,” Abram snapped out. “Down. We’re going to have to go doggo.”

  Under the hands of the former cadet, the ship dove slowly, gradually, into the black basalt sand of the sea bed. Nurys felt it settle belly down. It groaned like an old man, then fell silent. All shipboard chatter stilled, as did all nonessential equipment. Outside, swirls of dark particles rose and danced around them, lit by the occasional curious fishoid.

  “Attention, all personnel. This is Commander Abram. We’re going silent as of now until further notice,” Abram ordered. “No talking. We just have to wait this out.”

  Nurys was reminded all over again what an excellent officer Abram was. No nonsense. He’d actually seen combat more recently than she had. She hoped he didn’t see how rusty she felt. The kids didn’t. Every young face on the bridge turned to her for reassurance. She nodded with a confidence she didn’t really feel. They’d all gone through this in training. This was what they had been taught to do.

  The smell of fear increased along with the odor of hot bodies, engine oil, and straining machine parts. Nurys found herself breathing in a rapid, shallow pattern, and willed herself to draw deep from her diaphragm.

  The screeching of the alien sonar system erupted from the speakers. Esperanza moved a hand gingerly to lower the volume shipwide. Closer . . . closer . . . closer . . .

  PING!

  Did it see us? Nurys wondered. She stared at the scope. The line of red dots continued onward toward the northeast.

  The junior telemetry officer, Patel, gestured at his screen. Six bogeys skimming the surface came around within a few klicks of their position. Objects plummeted down through the water. Depth charges!

  Shit!

  The bombs erupted above them with hollow booms that made the whole sub shimmy in its sand bed. Nurys held on, worried that a chance explosion could hole the hull. She glanced at the life-support panel. No red lights meant no structural damage. She
let out the breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding. The stink of fear rose from her own body. The ship shook again. She clenched her hands around the harness securing her in her seat. How could the Truchs have depth charges? They came from a dry world. These had to be some sort of modified surface bomb. She hoped they weren’t as effective as Earth ordnance.

  She glanced up, seeing the pale, tense faces of her cadets over their safety straps. They needed her to hold it together, to let them know it was going to be all right.

  It was never all right in war. They knew that! They could all get blown into fragments and never see Earth again! Still, she gave them another nod of reassurance. She turned to meet Abram’s gaze. Both of them glanced at the telemetry station. Had the Truchs spotted them, or was this a random run?

  The bogeys were fifty klicks away already, dropping more charges. Nurys let her shoulders relax. Not this time.

  Abram was still the general officer on duty, so she let him give the order.

  “All right,” he said, unstrapping himself from the command chair. “Damage report, all stations.”

  “Negative, sir.” “Nothing here, sir.” “All systems operational, sir.”

  “All right, then. Let’s move it. Ascend to ten meters above the floor and stay there. Full speed, heading sixty degrees. Let’s get into that crevasse before they come back.” He turned to Nurys. “Captain, you have the conn.”

  Now they were running hard toward the island where Samawa and the rest of the IMV were working. Four island groups were arrayed along a crack in the mid-ocean ridge in between two tectonic plates: Poliri, Domiri, Sokoiri and Aoiri. Their target was Sokoiri, the second most distant. Five live volcanoes formed a barrier along the south edge of a cluster of extinct peaks. The caldera of the oldest and lowest formed a natural harbor, deep but sheltered. It’d be a snap to sail in, pick up the Lits, and get out.

  Periodically, the sonar sweeps came overhead. The Colorado had to take to ground again and again. Each time, the Truchs missed spotting them. Mood on board rose with every successful evasion, but Nurys chafed at the delay.