Shadow Strike

by P. R. Adams

  “It’s bad either way, right? Same outcome?”

  “Yes. So let’s focus on what that means. They’re a greater threat than before. How do we counter that?”

  “Well.” The big Marine set an elbow against an armrest, then braced his jaw in his hand. “How’d you beat them in the crater?”

  “How did we—?”

  The shadow suits. They had befuddled the heavy weapon’s sensors. They’d let the enemy soldiers get down into the bottom of the crater undetected. Her own optics could pick out the vague shapes, but the weapon was too slow to be effective when fired manually. She had—

  Benson shook her head. “We spotted them.”

  “You told me they were undetectable.”

  “We used the probe. The one we’d sent down with more advanced detection systems.”

  Halliwell’s lips twisted. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  Maybe she hadn’t. “What matters is that we don’t have that option here. We’d have to have a million probes, and they’d have to have advanced sensor—”

  The communications panel lit up. Ships were reporting in. They would be going through Lieutenant Bales, but Benson was able to listen in on the traffic.

  “Excuse me.” She transferred the traffic to her active channel.

  Chatter. Panicked chatter. The Ghandi—one of the ships on the sunward side of the formation—had taken hits to the shield.

  Still up. Only a few hits. But sensors had detected much more.

  At least the weapons fire could be detected.

  Benson brought up the fleet’s current projected movement patterns and adjusted to send the Pandora closer to the area where the Azoren attack had originated from. “They’re out there.”

  “I’m not picking anything up.” Stiles drilled down on the area that had been highlighted. “Nothing.”

  “Wait until we get closer. All we need is for them to fire when we’re in the area.”

  Halliwell leaned forward in his chair. “Why stay in one area?”

  “What?”

  “If you can’t see them, why stay in one area? That adds risk.”

  “They can’t move quickly. Not with the technology hiding them.”

  “You know that?”

  “No. But they didn’t outrun the fleet when we pursued, and that would’ve been the smart thing to do. Full burn.”

  “Even if you couldn’t see them?”

  “They had to suspect we could see them. We were taking out their ships.”

  “Then maybe they don’t have the engines to outrun you.”

  Another design compromise. Could the engines be something completely different to diminish their heat footprint? She connected to Parkinson. “Chief, I’ve got another theoretical question for you.”

  “A-all right. Are we in battle? I felt maneuvering.”

  “We’re trying to find the Azoren.”

  “We? The Pandora?”

  “No one else can pick them up.”

  “We don’t have the sort of shields for an engagement like—”

  “Chief, we’ll be fine. We’re maneuvering.”

  “Ships get destroyed maneuvering all the time!”

  “Chief, listen to me. I need to know if there’s a drive that might be used that’s not as efficient as ours that produces a lower heat signature.”

  “What?”

  “Is there a drive that—?”

  “Sure! There could be a dozen. We use the most efficient and noisiest.”

  “Good. So what might be a little less noisy and less efficient but good enough?”

  “I-I don’t know. A Dawson-Surya Drive? Maybe someone broke physics and made an EmDrive work.”

  “Let’s assume they didn’t break anything. Okay, Chief?”

  “All right. So the Dawson-Surya Drive. A microwave drive.”

  “How’s that not generating heat?”

  “It generates heat. It doesn’t generate that much heat. Not compared to our plasma engines. And if they’re doing something to spread the heat, it could get lost against the background.”

  Radio chatter drew Benson away again. Another set of attacks had apparently targeted the Ghandi but ended up hitting the Iwo Jima. No damage, but shields had nearly been compromised.

  She had a new course for the Pandora.

  “Hello?” Parkinson sounded panicked. “Commander? You still there?”

  “Sorry, Chief. Modifying everyone’s evasive maneuvers. We missed a few angles.”

  “What angles?”

  “The Iwo Jima took hits that missed the Ghandi. Nothing serious.”

  “For the Iwo Jima, sure. But for us, that’d be the end!”

  “We’re doing fine, Chief. I think we’re closing on our targets.” Benson cocked an eyebrow at Stiles, who shook her head. “But tell me about this drive. How could we spot something like it?”

  “Well, it’s going to be using existing energy, taking that in during flight and redirecting it as charged particles.”

  “Existing energy?”

  “Plasma. The product of stars. Like solar wind. You suck that in, and you project particles against a screen. In this case, that screen would be used to spread heat out, too. A bunch of charged nanotubes, for instance.”

  “Plasma. Particles. Chief, I need a way to see this. How could we detect them?”

  “Sensors should work. But it’s going to look a little like solar wind. You’d have to know what’s normal to see what isn’t.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  The radio chatter was growing more frustrated. People were anxious. How long could they go without targets, knowing the enemy was out there, just waiting for a lucky shot? Someone compared it to being a swimmer in shark-infested water. You never saw the hit that tore you in half.

  It would have been nice to have sharks at that point. Big space sharks.

  But Benson understood. No one liked being blind, not with an implacable enemy out there, just waiting for the chance to kill.

  Another ship reported taking fire. This time, it was the Istanbul, and the shields had buckled. It had suffered damage. Serious damage.

  Stiles shook her head. “Nothing. No ‘solar flares.’”

  Okoye and Devry were having a heated exchange over command of their ships.

  Benson didn’t know Okoye’s background well enough to intervene. He had been on a prestigious assignment, no doubt in line for something big, but that was just the element that was visible. It was entirely possible that shiny recent history hid something in the past, something that made Devry the right fit to command the Home Defense Fleet.

  Always worry about the shiny thing distracting you from what’s hiding behind—

  Behind! Why didn’t I think of that?

  Benson leaned over to the SCS display. “Three attacks. Show them to me in order.”

  Stiles didn’t waste any time arguing or questioning. The position of the three attacks showed up in sequence, then a line connected them—the most direct path. And there was a path. The Azoren captain was relying on invisibility to hide data.

  But data didn’t hide.

  The GSA officer frowned. “They’re not going to follow a direct path like that.”

  “No.” The commander connected to Devry. “But they are following a path. That’s what matters.” Benson held up a finger to signal Stiles to wait. “Gillian?”

  “Please tell me you have a plan, Faith. Barry’s cracking under the stress.”

  “I heard the discussion. He’s not cracking.”

  “He wants me to give up half my ships to—”

  “Gillian—”

  “Don’t interrupt me, okay? You were supposed to have technology that could pick up these ships. What’s going on?”

  “They’ve changed something.”

  “Like what, turned out lights they left on last time?”

  “We don’t know. We just can’t see them.”

  “This is the wrong time to find out your special technology isn’t
all that special.”

  “I need you to listen, okay? Listen and trust me.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit what?”

  “The last time you asked me to do that, you nearly got us both kicked out of the Academy.”

  A summer day. The obstacle course. The two of them falling behind a rival they both hated. Critical points toward graduation ranking were at stake. If they didn’t get ahead of their rival, they would fall behind with very little time to make up the points.

  So Benson suggested cooperation rather than competition. She helped Devry up a wall during a climb, then Devry returned the favor by delaying while dangling upside down on a rope suspended over mud in front of the rival, allowing Benson to scoot ahead on another rope.

  Their rival fell into the mud and lost precious time and points. Benson finished first, Devry second.

  And the question came up when the rival made accusations of cheating—whether cooperation was allowed.

  Cooperation. Allowed.

  It had been a ridiculous question, but that was the sort of thing Benson had come to expect from the military. Where else could an officiating body question whether cooperation toward a mutual goal was acceptable?

  “I remember.” Benson sighed. “This is a lot more dangerous than making someone fall from a rope.”

  “I figured as much. Talk to me.”

  “The Kolkata has some of the best shields in this force. It can take hits.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want it to.”

  “I understand. But I have an idea how we can finally see these Azoren ships.”

  “Go on.”

  “I think I know where they’re going to be next, but I need something to draw them in.”

  “Bait? You want to use the Kolkata as bait?”

  It sounded horrible, even to Benson. “You can take the hits.”

  “The Iwo Jima can take bigger hits, and Barry’s not coordinating a bunch of other ships.”

  “You know as well as I do that he won’t do this.”

  “Shit.”

  It was the truth. Other than the Iwo Jima, no other ship had restored shields as fully and had the same amount of armor as the Kolkata, and Okoye had only tentatively accepted working under Benson.

  She sent the new maneuvering path to Devry. “You see that? The way I’ve left a pattern in that puts you on that sunward edge below the orbital plane before you return toward Kedraal?”

  “Yeah. And you’re asking me to drop my acceleration. Why?”

  “If I’m right, you’ll be the most attractive target that way.”

  “Great. And this makes the Azoren visible how?”

  “We’re going to launch missiles. Every last missile in the inventory.”

  “You’ll have them targeted? How?”

  Benson licked her lips. “We won’t have them targeted. We’ll be using the missiles to target them.”

  “By firing them blind? I’m not following, Faith.”

  “We’re not using the missiles to hit them. We’re going to create a massive curtain of heat and debris behind them.”

  Devry sighed. “And that helps us how? I’m really trying to listen.”

  “It’s going to overwhelm their stealth technology. Or it’s going to render it pointless. Either the Pandora will pick up the image of their ships against that background, or we’ll be able to pick up the electromagnetic trail of their drives.”

  Devry barked out orders to her bridge crew. She was having them adjust course, maneuvering, and accelerating.

  Then she was back with Benson. “I’m trusting you, Faith.”

  “I know.”

  “I swear, if you get me killed—”

  “You’ll never forgive me.”

  “Never.”

  Devry closed the connection.

  Halliwell tapped Benson on the shoulder. “You okay?”

  She exhaled. “I’ve been better.”

  “You got this figured out?”

  Stiles leaned a little closer and turned her head, listening.

  It felt like the universe pressed against Benson at that moment. “I have an idea. But it’s going to come down to Parkinson.”

  The Marine and GSA officer groaned.

  But there wasn’t any other choice.

  Benson connected to Parkinson. Before the fleet fired every missile available, she needed to know how to pick out the charged particle trail of the drive, and that was something only her chief could figure out.

  26

  Fire burned still in Morganson’s eyes. In the silence of the moment, he could almost imagine what a captain might hear in the instant of hull breach. It would be the roar of the heavens, the rupture of the walls, the instant of atmosphere being ignited or superheated and burning away flesh, then the sucking sound of the last of the atmosphere being pulled out into the vacuum. The horror sent a tingle down his back, but a thrill rode with it.

  What would that sensation be to human awareness? To in one moment know the agony of death and also the power of the gods?

  He shivered.

  His fleet had yet to land a clean volley of hits against any of the Kedraalian ships, but there had been fire when his ships had disposed of the small task force patrolling farther out.

  So much fire.

  Voegel’s hand slipped through the support rails to touch his hip. Her eyes were calm, as an android’s eyes should be, but they seemed to give him reassurance. His fleet had the advantage now. Thanks to Ensign Ostmann’s suggestions, they moved among the enemy ships with ease, the maneuvering so slight as to be nearly imperceptible tugs against his body.

  And after three attacks, they had the enemy rattled. They were making mistakes, one of their ships repeating an evasive pattern now for the third time.

  “We are close, Captain.” The doctrine officer’s voice was soft.

  How much reassurance should a machine be able to give? Morganson tightened his grip on the support ring around the command station. “There would be greater excitement with facing them directly.”

  “Exchanging broadsides, perhaps? As the old wooden sailing ships of Earth once did?”

  “Yes. Bravery. Ingenuity. Superior tactics. All would be rewarded.”

  “Luck as well. The winds change so quickly at times. Would you truly prefer to surrender yourself to the whims of nature?”

  “I spoke only of excitement facing the enemy directly, not of sailing the seas. The galaxy is too vast to return to something so small.”

  The doctrine officer seemed satisfied by that. She raised up onto her tiptoes to examine his console. “You have a target now?”

  “Barely a cruiser class.”

  “You have managed a lock-on?”

  Morganson caught his weapons officer’s attention; the young man shook his head.

  The captain cleared his throat. “Not consistently.”

  “But this one appeals to you?”

  “It maneuvers sloppily, repeating itself.”

  “Have any of the others?”

  “Not yet. But this captain has panicked.”

  “Or could it be a trap?”

  He snorted. “Throwing yourself at an enemy’s weapons? A fine trap that would be. There is a reason I am in command, Commander Voegel, and you ensure the word of the Supreme Leader is worshipped.”

  She bowed her head, as if considering that.

  Ostmann turned completely around. “The targeted ship approaches optimal targeting range, Captain. Do we fire now or continue toward it and fire the second the sensors detect it moving away?”

  One did not win without taking risks. Morganson straightened. “Continue forward. Have all ships wait for the opportunity to achieve maximum effectiveness before firing.”

  A grin flashed across the weapons officer’s lips. “Yes, Captain.”

  There was no reason for the young man to suppress his pride. He would be rewarded for what he had done, just as Morganson would be rewarded for finding the means to salvage his mission.
It didn’t matter whether every idea was his or he drew value from the crew’s input. The Supreme Commander couldn’t be everywhere, so he had the Children created. Now they would find use in the mere humans they would one day rule over.

  Until humans were no longer needed.

  Voegel leaned against the command station support rails. “How flawed these Kedraalians have proven.”

  Morganson chuckled softly. “You have great insight into my thoughts.”

  “You have noticed it as well?”

  “How could someone miss it? We had their fleet nearly destroyed in minutes.”

  “Incompetence or the limitations imposed by a lack of purity?”

  It was a trick question, but the captain enjoyed the game when Voegel played it. “Our enemies are not the people, Commander, but the ideals.”

  “You have the ability to destroy an ideal?”

  “The ideal is the sickness. We must destroy the ravaged body as well as the sickness, else the sickness spreads. But it is no less the ideal we struggle against.”

  “So it is incompetence and inferiority both?”

  “They are one and the same.”

  Voegel’s pretty face lifted up, lit now with delight. “There will always be need of champions to spread the will of the Supreme Leader.”

  Lights flashed on the giant display, as the Azoren weapons systems fired. Coordination among ships helped to multiply the effectiveness of their weapons when they managed lock-on, compensating some for the necessarily diminished systems.

  The weapons officer’s back bowed, and a broad grin settled on his handsome profile. “Multiple hits, Captain! Shields are down! Armor damage!”

  Morganson slapped the support ring. “The first meaningful strike! How significant?”

  Ostmann studied the weapons console. “A few small fires—minor breaches, Captain. It maneuvers yet.”

  “Continue firing on it.”

  “It accelerates away. Do we pursue?”

  “No. Not completely. Give it some distance.” Being drawn to a wounded ship was a tactical error. It was the first thing an enemy would watch for. “Prepare missiles.”

  “Preparing missiles, Captain!”

  They had a hold full of the deadly weapons now. The fleet would be able to send far too many at the enemy ship for it to deal with. One, maybe two explosions, and the weakened shields would fall. Systems would be overwhelmed. Whatever got through would target the existing damage. The ship would be destroyed.