Farthest Shore: A Mecha Scifi Epic (The Messenger Book 13)

by J. N. Chaney

  Dash had to nod. “Yeah. As soon as you start saying things like the Deepers are fiddling with DNA, people get creeped out. That’s especially true for anyone who came through the Life War. The Golden and their minions were really into some DNA-based horror shows.”

  Dash stared at the Iron Gate. “Do we have any idea where they’re transmitting this encoded DNA stuff?”

  “No. And if the Radiant Points keep a comm log or something similar, we haven’t found it yet.”

  “Okay, keep at it. And your instinct was right. For now, we’ll keep the circle of knowledge about this DNA thing as small as we can.”

  Dash lingered for a while after Elois had left to resume her work on the Radiant Points. He stared out the viewport, brooding.

  What the hell were the Deepers doing with genetic information, anyway?

  As soon as the question occurred to him, his gut reaction was that he didn’t really want to know. And when he did eventually learn the answer, he was pretty sure that he was going to not want to know even more.

  12

  The threat board lit up as soon as Dash dropped back into real space. The Archetype immediately came under attack from three directions, prompting Dash to take off in the fourth. He kept the mech’s acceleration to no more than it was capable of prior to installing the hexacore. At the same time, he rolled, lined up a dark-lance shot, and fired.

  “Miss,” Sentinel said.

  Dash’s eyes widened a touch. The target, a small, nimble fighter, had dodged his shot and now returned fire with a pair of missiles. He rolled the Archetype again, decelerated, and snapped out shots at the other two fighters attacking him.

  “One miss, one hit,” Sentinel intoned.

  Dash grunted. He could see the results on the display, but Sentinel’s audible feedback was still useful. The stricken fighter immediately went dark, its power dropping to zero and leaving it coasting. He turned his attention back to the first fighter that had attacked him. The Archetype’s point-defenses took down both missiles, but the opposing craft did manage to land a couple of solid rail-gun shots. Unfortunately, its pilot got target-locked, so intent on shooting up the mech that they forgot to keep up their wild, gyrating evasive maneuvers. Just a few seconds of straight flight was enough to take it out of action.

  “Thank . . . you,” Dash muttered, keying the kill shot. That left the Archetype facing a lone fighter, a battle whose outcome was a foregone conclusion. The pilot tried valiantly to drive home an attack anyway but was unable to dodge the nova-cannon shot that ultimately took them down.

  Dash settled the Archetype back into steady flight, watching as the three fighters powered back up and fell into station with the mech.

  “I must admit, I don’t enjoy facing these mechs of yours,” Steenowat said, piloting her fighter on Dash’s starboard flank. “I’ve fought the Pulsar, the Polaris, the Swift, and now yours, Dash, the Archetype. I’ve yet to land more than the occasional hit.”

  Dash caught the frustration in Steenowat’s voice, even over the comm. “Honestly, that’s the way it’s supposed to be, Steenowat. These mechs are the biggest, meanest war machines we’ve got. Frankly, if I’d been bounced by three fighters and lost, well, then we’d have bigger problems to work on. Besides, you guys did well anyway. You did land a few hits. You’ve got to learn not to get so target-locked, though.”

  “Our instructor says the same thing. Hopefully, we’ll learn to avoid that with practice.”

  “And you will, which is why we train in the first place. Make your mistakes and learn your lessons when the weapons aren’t hot, instead of doing it when they are.”

  They flew on, closing back on the Forge. Along the way, they discussed the battle, dissecting it in minute detail. Dash had to admit that the N’Teel were dedicated. Their new fighter, called the Moonbane, had better performance than either the Super Makos or Denkillers, albeit with a much lighter construction and reduced durability. Steenowat had been insistent, though. The N’Teel wanted to emphasize speed and maneuverability over everything except firepower—hence the name, Moonbane. Apparently, the moonbane was an actual predator on their homeworld, a nocturnal, pterodactyl-looking creature that flew quickly and silently, swooping on its prey out of the darkness without warning. Steenowat said that their unfortunate victims only realized their danger when the moon disappeared, an instant before they were struck and killed with silent, deadly efficiency.

  As they neared the Forge, Dash saw more Moonbane fighters swirling in a dogfight with a flight of Super Makos. The Polaris hung nearby, Jexin casting a critical eye over the performance of both groups of pilots. He waved off Steenowat to return for refueling and rearming, then veered onto a new course, sliding smoothly into place on Jexin’s port quarter.

  “How are they doing, Jex?”

  “Our own pilots? As good as ever. The N’Teel? Surprisingly well. They’re fast learners. I’d say we could declare them operationally ready in another ten days, maybe two weeks, at the most.”

  “That soon? You sure?”

  “Like I said, our pilots are as good as ever. But they’d already lost six Super Makos to only three Moonbane.”

  Dash watched the vicious dogfight rage. Sure enough, the spindly little N’Teel fighters zipped, wove, and spun around the heavier Super Makos, killing at least two for every one of their own losses. Eventually, Jexin called time on the battle, and both groups of fighters formed back up, getting themselves organized for a return to their base. For both, that was the Forge, since the N’Teel had no carrier to work from, and the Super Makos were likewise refugees until the Relentless was repaired. Dash suspected both groups of pilots would find a way to rendezvous, then debate their dogfight to death. It was just how the fighter pilots rolled.

  “Dash? Benzel here. We’ve got a big contact on the early-warning system, scanner buoys eight through eleven. You should be getting the data now.”

  Dash switched to the operational display. Sure enough, a large, hard contact had popped up, triggering four of their early-warning buoys. Something big had just appeared, probably dropping out of unSpace. Four smaller contacts accompanied it.

  “Any idea what it is?”

  “I’ve dispatched the nearest frigate, the Luther Albrecht, to take a closer look, ideally get a visual.”

  Dash pursed his lips. The Luther Albrecht was a new class of frigate, one whose members decided to name after citizens of the Cygnus Realm who’d fallen in battle. Meant as a tribute, they obviously had far more fallen than they could honor that way, so the names were picked randomly from the lists of the dead. Everyone agreed, though, that each represented all of those lost, not just their namesake.

  “Okay, but tell the Albrecht’s captain not to try and be a hero. They get in, take a look, then shadow whatever this thing is if they can, and immediately bug out if they can’t.”

  “Understood. Benzel out.”

  Dash studied the imagery that had come back from the Luther Albrecht. It was a big Deeper ship of an entirely unknown design. Four of their much more familiar light cruisers escorted it. The Albrecht had managed to maintain contact at a discrete distance and only a few button pushes away from translating the hell out of there. But the Deepers didn’t seem to care. They just flew on in stately silence, paralleling the Cygnus Realm’s current spinward frontier.

  “It must be a show of force,” Leira said.

  Dash curled his lip. “It’s definitely that, yeah. But why? Do they just want to show off their spiffy new ship?”

  “It is pretty impressive, and by impressive, I mean ominous,” Amy said.

  Dash sighed. “Yeah, it is. Carrier-sized and well-armed.”

  “It’s actually even better armed than it appears,” Custodian put in. “Based on the latest data transmitted by the Luther Albrecht, that ship mounts three of the new Deeper beam-weapon systems.”

  “Oh. Excellent. I was thinking we needed a challenge,” Leira said, her voice flat.

  Dash planted his hands o
n his hips. “They’re trying to bait us out.”

  Viktor, who’d been leaning against a console, straightened and walked closer to the image of the big ship. “To what end, though? They parade a new, obviously powerful ship in front of us, lightly escorted.” He stopped, his brow furrowed in thought. Then it cleared, and he nodded.

  “You’re right. They know we’ve reorganized our defenses, but they aren’t sure exactly how. So they dangle a prize in front of us that we can’t resist and watch to see how we respond to it,” Viktor said, nodding at his own words.

  “It’s probably part of a trap, on top of that,” Amy offered.

  Dash gave a quick nod of his own. “Probably. So, if we do nothing to it, they fly away, leaving us knowing they’ve got something new and big and frightening to throw at us. Or, we attack it, risk part of our fleet, and give them some intel on our new defensive arrangement.”

  “So, lose-lose for us,” Leira said glumly.

  “That’s definitely what the Deepers think, yeah.”

  Leira looked at him sidelong. “You don’t?”

  Dash smiled a slow, sinister smile. “No. In fact, I think we should give the Deepers exactly what they want.”

  It was, Dash thought, probably about the smallest gathering of ships you could get away with calling a task force. Besides the Archetype, it comprised the Pulsar, the Polaris, the Talon, and two of the small escort carriers, the Canopus and the Rigel. The first carried a wing of Denkillers and another of Super Makos. The second was home to another wing of Super Makos and a wing of N’Teel Moonbane.

  Dash had gone back and forth about bringing the N’Teel. Jex had told him ten days to two weeks to get them operational. Only five had passed, though, since the big Deeper ship had appeared and started its implacable trek along the Realm’s frontier. It translated from the system and spent about a day traversing each before moving on to the next. The Luther Albrecht had maintained contact the whole time, watching from a discreet distance and withdrawing quickly whenever one of the aliens’ light cruisers suddenly turned for a confrontation.

  Throughout that time, the N’Teel had trained hard, making enough progress that Jexin had declared them ready for operational status. Dash had to agree that they certainly looked ready, but he still had his doubts. But N’Teel leadership was pressuring him to get their forces into action, so he’d finally given in and grudgingly agreed.

  Now, in another day, two at most, Custodian, Sentinel, and the other AIs had agreed that the new Deeper ship was likely to withdraw. It would have paralleled almost the entire length of the Cygnus Realm’s border by then. And Custodian had gained some insight into the probable reason why.

  “Based on ongoing analysis of the data being collected by the Luther Albrecht, the Deeper ship appears to be equipped with an unusually extensive suite of scanners. We believe it is conducting a reconnaissance of our defenses,” he said.

  “Why use such a big ship, though? Why not a bunch of smaller ones that can scan basically our whole frontier at once?” Dash had asked.

  “That the Deepers are taking advantage of the opportunity to conduct detailed reconnaissance doesn’t preclude your previous assumptions about it being a show of force or bait for a trap. It could still be all of those things.”

  That had finally solidified the final, still-mushy parts of the plan that had come to Dash when he first saw the ship. The fact that rumors were filtering around the Realm about a new Deeper super-weapon sailing along their border with impunity only hardened his determination. Dash didn’t have to study old military texts to know that morale was every bit as important a commodity in warfare as missiles, mines, and anti-deuterium fuel.

  So here they were, four mechs and two escort carriers, hanging in space close to the massive and very hot blue-white star that would be the Deeper ship’s next stop if it kept to the pattern. And its last one before vanishing back into the black, if the AIs were right.

  “Dash, the carriers are complaining that their rad counts are on the high side, this close to the star. They’re asking if we can put another few million klicks between us and it,” Jexin said, her signal carried by a directional comm beam.

  Dash glanced at the operational status, then switched back to tactical. The radiation counts were, indeed, a little on the high side but were still well short of any sort of safety threat. If they spent another day here, piling up the rads, then sure. But for what should hopefully be only a few hours, they should—

  “Dash, the Deeper ships have just translated in-system,” Sentinel announced, cutting off his thoughts and rendering the whole question moot.

  Sure enough, one big, hard contact, and four smaller ones. Dash watched them powering casually into the system, their projected course taking them no closer to the star than a hundred million klicks. That would bring them within only ten million of the tiny Realm task force, which was too far. The carriers were going to get their wish anyway.

  “Okay, folks, we’re going to make our slow and easy way another five million klicks from the star. Sentinel and the other AIs will make sure we maneuver to keep it right at our backs with respect to the Deepers. Everyone knows the plan from there.”

  Terse acknowledgements. All they could do now was wait.

  The Deepers swept closer. There was still no reaction from them. The tidal wave of emissions from the fierce blue star would be overwhelming their scanners, a glaring blind spot shared by humans, Golden, Deepers, and everyone else, as far as they knew. Even the characteristic shadows cast by Dark Metal would be washed out by the sheer flood of neutrinos pouring from the star.

  Time passed. An hour after the Deepers’ arrival, the Luther Albrecht translated into the system, still shadowing the aliens at a safe distance. By then, Dash found himself second-guessing their assumptions, the decision to bring along the relatively untested N’Teel, the whole freakin’ plan to begin with. It all relied on doing something they’d never tried before, at least not in actual battle. It was all just so risky, in so many different ways.

  He latched onto one bit of uncertainty over which he did have some control —the N’Teel. He could hold them back as a reserve instead of committing them to battle. “Jex, are you sure the N’Teel are clear on the plan? That they’re ready for this?” he asked.

  She replied, her tone one of strained but indulgent patience. “Yes, Dash. I’m sure. They’re as ready as they’re ever going to be. Unless you have reason to doubt my judgment, that is.”

  Ouch. Dash winced. “Jex, I trust your judgment. I’m just cautious.”

  “I understand. For what it’s worth, Steenowat is pestering me as much as you are. In her case, though, it’s because she wants to launch and fight something.”

  Dash smiled, but in a restrained way. Again, it struck him just how aggressive the N’Teel were, apparently by nature.

  “Dash, the Deeper ships will reach the no-go point in five minutes,” Sentinel put in.

  Dash put his attention back on the tactical display. The no-go point was an arbitrary line in space. Once the Deepers crossed it, the Realm ships were no longer assured of being able to withdraw without being engaged. At that point, Dash had to decide to abort the op or commit to it.

  He was tempted to abort. The whole thing was just so risky, so reliant on things that had to work perfectly. But then the rumors that would spread their tendrils through the Cygnus Realm would be about running away from this new Deeper super-weapon, and that would not be good at all.

  “We go,” he said.

  The Deepers drew closer. They still hadn’t reacted, which either meant they knew the Realm was here, waiting for them, and was playing it cool, or they didn’t know. Dash fervently hoped it was the latter.

  They’d almost reached the next critical line on the tactical display—the attack line.

  “Sentinel, are you linked up with Kristin and the Pulsar?”

  “I am—”

  “She sure is! Hi, Dash, Kristin here!”

  “Hello, Kr
istin,” Dash replied, unable to resist a smile. The AI that ran Conover’s mech always made him think of an especially manic version of Amy.

  “Sorry, Dash. I think Kristin is anxious to try this out,” Conover said.

  “You’re damned right I am! If this works, it could change the way we fight.”

  That was true, Dash thought. If it worked.

  “I am linked to Kristin and the Pulsar, yes,” Sentinel said, finally able to get a word in. “I am giving her control in thirty seconds.”

  “Roger that.”

  That was something else that made Dash a little nervous. For this to work, he had to let Kristin take full control of some of the Archetype’s functions. He’d still be able to fly and fight, but he’d have to do it with only the immediate, tactical picture.

  “Kristin, you have control,” Sentinel said.

  A barrage of data sluiced across the comm beam from the Pulsar. The Archetype’s long-range scanners, now repurposed into instruments of electronic warfare, immediately began to radiate energy, specifically tuned and modulated. Like the rest of the mech’s systems, they’d been upgraded with DM2. The Archetype had effectively become a transmitter for the Pulsar’s EW effects, albeit one far more powerful than the Pulsar itself.

  “Luther Albrecht, Dash. You’re a go.”

  “Roger that.”

  The light cruiser suddenly accelerated, rapidly gaining on the Deepers.

  This was the critical moment. If this wasn’t going to work, then the Deepers should react to the cruiser’s approach.

  Dash waited.

  Nothing.

  Minutes passed.

  Still nothing.

  Dash found himself nodding. It was working. Thanks to the Archetype’s vastly improved performance, Kristin had been able to saturate the Deepers’ scanners with blank returns, making it appear to them as though nothing in the system had changed.