Dark Moon Arisen

by Chris Kennedy

  “There are a number of ships that are just breaking orbit from New Persia,” the sensor operator replied. “Looks like a battleship, two cruisers, and two frigates.”

  LCDR McQuay felt the sweat begin to roll down his back. He was responsible for protecting the transport EMS Capricorn, which had transitioned in with him, and he couldn’t have defeated one of the cruisers, much less the battleship. He stared at the plot, trying to decide the best way to flee from the enemy fleet. He might call it a tactical withdrawal, but he didn’t want to be anywhere close to them.

  “They aren’t headed in this direction?” the sensor operator asked.

  “I don’t know,” LCDR McQuay replied. “That’s what I have you for.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the sensor operator said. “I didn’t mean it as a question; I was just surprised. The enemy fleet—the battleship is a Maki, so I’m calling it an enemy fleet—is breaking orbit, but they are heading for the stargate. They are not, I repeat, not, heading for us.”

  “That’s strange,” the CO said. If the roles were reversed, the first thing he would have done as the enemy commander would have been to send the cruisers to destroy the two Human ships. They would have been easy kills. “Let’s hold our position here and see what they do.”

  Three hours later, the Maki fleet transitioned out through the stargate, and the Human ships began warily approaching New Persia.

  “I can’t raise anyone on the planet,” the communications officer noted.

  “Keep trying,” LCDR McQuay said. “I want to know what they were here for.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll keep trying,” the comms officer replied, “but we should have had something by now.”

  “I think I found out why you can’t reach anyone,” the sensor operator said.

  “Why is that?” LCDR McQuay asked.

  “This is why,” the sensor operator replied. He sent the images he was looking at to the main Tri-V screen. “Here’s New Chabahar,” he said. The picture on the screen was low quality—they were still a long way out for high definition images—but it was easy to see that only a few of the buildings furthest from the city center were still standing. The center of the town was gone; replaced by an enormous crater.

  There was a collective intake of breath on the bridge.

  “That looks like a nuke,” LCDR McQuay said, putting to words what everyone else was afraid to say.

  “It was a fairly small one—no more than 10 kilotons,” the sensor operator said. “Not that they needed a whole lot more than that.” He changed the picture to another crater. “This is what’s left of the CASPer factory outside the city. Looks like they hit it with a nuke, too. There’s nothing left. The two other settlements on the planet received similar treatment. The reason there’s no one to reply to your calls? There’s no one left.”

  “Can you tell if they evacuated the people before they nuked the settlements?” the CO asked.

  “It’s hard to tell, since the towns were pretty small, however, it looks like there may still be some people down there in small groups. If they were going to take the people off the planet, I think they’d have taken everyone. My guess is they nuked the towns with the people still in them.”

  “Damn…” the CO muttered. He stared at the picture on the screen for a few seconds, overwhelmed by what the Merc Guild had done. Killing mercs was one thing, but killing civilians? That was unacceptable. “We’ve got to get back and let them know.” He needed to tell Commander Cromwell as soon as possible. If he knew one thing, though, it was that he would not be the one to tell Nigel Shirazi.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  EMS Arion, Emergence Point, Beta Cephei

  “There it is,” Captain Teenge said, indicating a Tri-V screen as Lieutenant Colonel Dan Walker and Commander Frank Earl entered the CIC. The captain was an Aposo, a race that generally looked like the Veetanho, only a little more squat and rodent-like. Walker looked where she was indicating and saw what was almost a replica of the ship they were in. The ship was heading away from them but was slightly offset, so he could only get a general idea of what it looked like, aside from the stern.

  “Wait,” he said, after several moments of inspection. “Does that ship have four engines?”

  “Yes,” the captain replied. “Although the hull is similar to ours, the ship is more powerful. If whoever is running that ship decides they don’t want us to catch them, we won’t be able to run them down. They’ve got a good head start on us at the minute, but we could catch up with them…”

  Walker could hear the “but” at the end of the sentence. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The Aposo as a race were pretty bloodthirsty in nature—they were often referred to as the mammalian version of Tortantulas—so to see her reticent to chase it down gave him pause.

  “We could catch up to it, assuming it doesn’t speed up when we do, and assuming they don’t jump to hyperspace again.”

  “That isn’t all of it, though, is it? What else is wrong?”

  “We haven’t been able to make contact with the ship yet, or Dr. Sato,” Captain Teenge replied. “Not only don’t we know the situation on the ship, we also don’t know who’s in charge over there. If someone else besides Dr. Sato is operating that ship, and they decide they don’t want Arion to approach, I suspect the ship has the same 40-terawatt particle accelerator cannon we do. If they decide to shoot at us, the only response I’ll have is to shoot back, potentially destroying the ship and killing Dr. Sato. I do not believe Commander Cromwell would appreciate either of those outcomes. If the ship attacks us, and I don’t defend Arion, we risk losing Arion, which is something I wouldn’t appreciate, having just taken command of her.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t appreciate getting blown up much, either,” Walker replied with a half-smile. He watched the ship on the Tri-V for a few moments. It didn’t appear to be doing anything other than transiting to some unknown destination; he wished he knew where it was heading.

  “I’m also afraid of going to full power to run it down,” Captain Teenge added. “If we do, we may risk spooking whatever crew is aboard it. We got lucky when Sato told us where they were coming this time; if they jump into hyperspace again, we’ll lose them for good.” She held her hands up. “There may also be something else going on.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The ship appears to be running her power plants at near full power, but doesn’t appear to be doing anything with it. I do not know where the power is going, and I do not want to get too close and find out there is some sort of unknown weapon which is about to activate.”

  Walker looked at Earl and shrugged. “Despite all that,” Walker said, “nothing’s changed since that ship left New Warsaw. Either Sato did something to initiate something onboard the ship, or some unknown crew is in charge of it. Either way, we need someone to go find out what’s happening before we can send a crew over to take it back to New Warsaw. The only other way to stop it is to shoot it, and then we risk killing Sato and destroying it. That’s gotta be our last resort.”

  Earl nodded. “I guess that means I need to get over there with a boarding party, quickly, before it jumps again, and take control of it.”

  “I thought—”

  “No,” Earl said, interrupting Walker. “The Bees are the most qualified for this; it’s what we do. Besides, there are only two Avengers, and each can only carry six CASPers unless you stick them in the bomb bay. I know; I asked. That’s me, my senior enlisted, and one squad. We’ll take care of this.”

  Walker nodded. Although he wanted to lead the group going over, he realized Earl was right; they had more experience doing opposed-entry operations; this was a mission for the Bees. “All right,” he said, nodding once. “You got it. Get over there and secure that ship.”

  * * *

  Onboard Egleesius Cruiser “EG2,” Beta Cephei System

  Sato pushed back from the Tri-V box and moaned. His lone remaining bot floated nearby on standby. He’
d recharged it from his CASPer, and it should be fine for a few more days. His own suit’s hybrid hydrogen fuel cells were good for months at this activity level. His own body? Not so much.

  “INVALID INPUT” floated before his eyes as he hovered in the hallway, just outside the CIC. It was the only response he’d gotten from the strange alien computer after days of experimentation. He’d run the gamut of every operational control request he’d learned in all his years of traveling the galaxy. As crazy as it seemed, he was beginning to think the designers of the computer hadn’t meant for anyone to be able to control it!

  “Ludicrous,” he said to himself. He idly reached for a piece of jerky before realizing he’d eaten the last piece two days ago. He settled for a drink of water instead. The fuel cells would keep making it until the hydrogen ran out.

  Ever since he felt the drop signaling the ship had entered hyperspace, he’d spent every waking minute trying to get access to the system. “INVALID INPUT” was the only response he had received. He’d even tried using different languages, but those didn’t even get that response.

  He idly scratched a rash he was developing under one arm. Pretty soon he’d have to strip and use the last of the wipes he’d brought. He’d read CASPer drivers took them on deployments as a stopgap measure when they couldn’t get out of their suits for more than 24 hours at a time. He’d been in his a lot longer than that. In hindsight, he realized using his CASPer on a long-term mission like this without a field test had been foolish. He shrugged and went back to working the problem.

  The Tri-V box did provide data, when it felt like it. More like status displays, he suspected. Sato had set up one of the tiny recorders he’d brought in his equipment bag. It logged everything it saw in the box and notified him if something new appeared. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

  “BOW MANEUVERING THRUSTER #4 ONLINE” appeared a few minutes after he’d jumped into hyperspace. The machine knew how he’d gotten inside, then. The machine knew.

  Sato thought some more. Of course Sato knew about Ghost. He was one of a couple dozen Winged Hussars who were, in Commander Alexis Cromwell’s words, ‘in the box.’ The fact that the Hussars had a fully functional AI dating back to the Great Galactic War might be the most tightly kept secret in a galaxy full of tightly kept secrets. Sato was once within the Science Guild, and he knew just how deep that statement went. “Another Egleesius-class ship,” he said. “Another Ghost?”

  He’d gone over the computers in the other four salvaged Egleesius ships. They’d all been found the same way the Hussars’ archives said Pegasus had been found, with its operating system wiped; however, there were no stashed AIs on those ships. Maybe AIs weren’t common after all; he didn’t know. He also didn’t know if there was one in charge of the ship he was captive in.

  As one of the chief scientists in the Winged Hussars, he’d been in charge of the efforts to reproduce a Ghost-like AI. It didn’t help that the artificial lifeform hadn’t let him see its code directly; instead, it provided copies in common galactic programming languages. He had to assume Ghost was sabotaging the efforts to reproduce itself, or at least not cooperating as much as it could, although he had no idea why.

  “So,” he said, “I can’t command you. Maybe I can pick your brain?” He pushed back over to the box and reached a hand inside. A language sphere appeared, and he entered a command.

  “Report Status.”

  “OPERATIONAL”

  “Ha,” he laughed, and typed.

  “Display options for shutdown.”

  “INVALID INPUT”

  “Kuso kurae,” he spat. He took a calming breath and tried some other options.

  * * *

  Avenger One, Nearing Target Ship, Beta Cephei System

  “Dr. Sato,” Commander Frank Earl transmitted, “are you there? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” a voice said, after a few tense seconds of waiting. The voice was a little thin and shaky. “I hear you quite clearly. How is this possible?”

  “We—my squad and I—are off the port beam of the ship you’re on. We’re here to rescue you. We followed you here through hyperspace.”

  “Excellent. I must say, I was getting very hungry. When I entered the ship, I didn’t intend to stay for as long as I have. I must admit to being under-supplied.”

  Typical scientist, Commander Earl growled to himself. He checked his monitors. All of his squad seemed to be in good shape, although quite of few of his troops had elevated respiration and heart rates. Not surprising, since they were mounted on the bottom of two Avenger bombers that were being flown by aliens that looked something like otters or seals. SEALs—from the old military group—he wouldn’t have had an issue with. His folks were professionals and enjoyed working with other pros. But animals that looked like they should be in an ocean somewhere eating oysters? He shook his head. It was a crazy universe.

  His suit was mounted to the outboard weapons station on the bomber’s right wing. Two more of his unit were next to him, with three more mounted to the port wing. He was the closest to the target ship and had the best view of it. It looked a lot like Pegasus, although without all the easy access ports—shuttle bays, airlocks, and the like—which would have made his mission a whole lot easier.

  “Is there anyone with you?” Earl asked.

  “No, just me.”

  “You haven’t seen anyone else?”

  “Any people? No.”

  “No one hijacked the ship?”

  “No,” he said, then gave a little cough that sounded put out. “I was investigating some of the systems onboard, as Colonel Cromwell permitted, and something I did activated a program. That initiated a navigational program I haven’t been able to stop.”

  Well, that helped. It would be easier to get into the ship if no one was shooting at him, at least. Speaking of entry… “Dr. Sato,” Earl called. “How exactly did you get into the ship?”

  “I entered through a maneuvering thruster nozzle. My bots opened the maintenance access hatch inside the nozzle. The design is the same on all the Egleesius ships. However, I suspect that entrance will be denied to you now that the ship is operational. You would not survive a thruster firing, even in a CASPer. I did notice there were some holes from what appeared to be combat damage on the bow. Your suits are smaller than mine; you might be able to slip through one of them.”

  Dammit. Earl was not going to send his folks through a maneuvering thruster nozzle. If there were other forces on the ship—whether Sato said there were or not—all they’d have to do was tweak the system, and his people would be cooked in their own juices. The holes from combat damage were possibilities, though, and would be easier than cutting their way into an armored warship. Earl switched frequencies to the command net. “Avenger One, Commander Earl,” he transmitted. “We have good comms with our errant scientist and are ready for final approach.”

  “Understood,” Thorb replied. “We heard. We will drop your men off near the bow and Avenger Two will drop the other half off near amidships, as planned.”

  “Roger,” Earl replied. His section would investigate the holes Sato found, while the other fire team—several of whom were qualified engineers—looked for alternate entry points. There were too many things that could go wrong with trying to squeeze the skeleton crew members they had on the Arion into the ship through battle damage holes. If there were a way for one of the crewmembers to slit their suit and expose themselves to vacuum, a civilian would find it. And getting them over to the ship without a docking port? He couldn’t imagine hanging a civilian from the weapons station of a tactical bomber, although the thought of it made him smile. No, they needed a good method of entry.

  The bombers split up, with Avenger Two dropping back as Avenger One slid closer to the bow. The bomber closed the distance faster than Earl would have liked, and he had an image of becoming the meat in a metal sandwich as the bomber slammed into the cruiser. The bigger ship got closer, fast, and within seconds, it filled his monitors.
Just as he was about to say something to the pilot—who hopefully was still in control and saw the impending collision—the bomber’s maneuvering thrusters flared, and their closure rate slowed. The larger ship continued to approach, and Earl regretted not updating his will before they left New Warsaw, but then their relative motion ceased with the bomber holding position about six feet from the larger ship.

  “You know our CASPers have thrusters, right?” he asked over his comm system. “You could have dropped us off further out like we briefed.”

  “Just wanted to get you close,” Thorb replied. “Detaching now. Good hunting.”

  Stupid seals. Or otters. Whatever they are. Earl had just enough time for the thought, then his suit was released from the weapons station, and a blast of compressed air pushed him away from the bomber. He spun slightly and activated his magnetic boots as his feet touched down on the hull of the cruiser.

  “All right,” he said over the squad’s tactical net. “Fire Team One, spread out and let’s see if we can find the holes Sato said he saw. Fire Team Two, look for alternate entry points or methods. Preferably something we can attach a shuttle to.”

  Earl began walking across the surface of the ship to search his section of the bow. The ship didn’t appear much different from other ships he’d walked across, and he saw a number of access panels and plates that likely covered equipment or weapons that extruded in battle, like close-in anti-missile lasers.

  “Found them,” Sergeant Roberts called after a few minutes of searching, “but you’re not going to like them, sir.”

  Great, Earl thought as he transited to Roberts’ location. Nothing like knowing he wasn’t going to like something even before he saw it. It only took him a few minutes to get there, and when he saw it, he had to agree. He didn’t like it. There were several holes, but even the biggest one wasn’t enough to get someone in a spacesuit through without tearing the suit on its jagged edges. The hole looked like something had detonated inside the hull—the blast had pushed outward, so the points were facing up. They could try to trim off the edges…