Crusade of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  AC-230315 had calculated its projected situation at this point, but its current status was actually worse than its lowest conjecture. It still calculated that it would win, most likely at least, but it would still have called for reserves…if the fleet was still there. But most of the ships had departed, leaving it and its forces to complete the extermination of the humans. The Regent had emphasized the development of spaceships and, in truth, there was a shortage of ground troops. AC-230315 knew it still had the edge…but it was also aware that a small number of human survivors wouldn’t be a big deal, at least not to the Regent. There would be plenty of time to return, to eliminate them before the years passed to enable them to pose any kind of real threat.

  But that didn’t help it. If it lost the fight that was coming, it would be gone, destroyed.

  Despite its calculation that defeat was possible, it put those thoughts aside, and it prepared to meet the enemy. It didn’t know where they would go, not exactly, not yet…but it knew it could calculate that when the humans started to move, and that would give it the edge. Its forces were faster, and they didn’t need rest. It knew its calculations were incomplete, that it had only estimates of the enemy strength, but it figured it had an eighty to ninety percent chance of victory.

  Putting all its forces in one mass would take the pressure off the enemy in a number of areas, of course, and allow them to assemble…but AC-230315 had determined that a final engagement with the enemy was its best option. Its analysis of humanity, of their abilities and limitations, was incomplete, certainly, but from what it knew, supplemented massively by its activities of the past weeks, it believed its calculations were correct.

  It sent out a series of pulses, messages to various units. It would pull back most of its forces, leaving only a scant number to resist the enemy. They would inflict losses, of course, but then they would be destroyed, allowing the surviving human forces to combine.

  Until they are all together…and its forces were as well. Then, wherever the enemy went, it would close on them and continue the fight. The battle would be vicious, and it would be relentless, and it would not let up. It would not until the enemy was completely destroyed.

  Or its forces were.

  * * *

  “How many so far?” Gosnard had been counting for several days, but for the past four hours he had actually slept. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in all the time since the enemy’s initial assault, and he’d had none at all for at least three days before his nap. He hadn’t intended to get any, but Til had argued with him intensely, and he’d finally given in. He’d agreed to take four hours, knowing it was probably all he’d get through the fight, no matter how many days it lasted.

  “Just over a thousand!” His friend sounded tired, but also excited. One thousand—actually, one thousand forty-four to date—wasn’t a lot left from over nineteen thousand, but it was clearly more than he’d expected.

  It was more than Gosnard had expected as well.

  “That’s great,” he said, feeling some excitement that more or less failed to come out in his statement. The number was greater than he’d anticipated, but he realized the coming fight was probably still to the advantage of the enemy. He’d told himself his people had a chance, but in truth, he just wasn’t sure. With over a thousand, he knew they did, at least, have some kind of chance, but he just didn’t have the information on his people’s armaments, and their true condition, to reasonably guess at any numbers. He figured it was no more than thirty percent, and probably somewhat less…but that was just a wild guess.

  Still, that was good…better than he’d expected. But he was still fighting off the fear.

  “Okay…what is the status with the enemy?”

  Tilman was silent for a moment. Then he said, “They’re consolidating, too, Gos. They seem to have left small forces to fight our various contingents, at least everyone who has gotten through has made similar reports when they got close enough to blast through the enemy jamming. Not enough to give the enemy any chance to stop us, though, at least not in my view. I think they want us together, Gos…they want to fight us all in one.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, Til…” It didn’t, not really. He understood the enemy’s viewpoint, why they would want to finish the fight in one battle. It didn’t make him wrong for wanting the same thing, though he paused for a few seconds and thought it all through one more time.

  Yes, he wanted to fight. And he was going to fight.

  He shook his head, yawned once…and then drove the feelings of fatigue from him. “Okay, Til…let’s get everybody ready…and as excited as we can. It’s almost time.” He paused, and then he looked right at his friend. “I have no idea whether we’re going to make it, Til, but I just wanted to say, you’ve been my friend, even more…for the longest time. Thank you.”

  Tilman looked back, and his stubbornness broke. His eyes moistened, but they didn’t tear. Not quite. He just nodded, and then he took a step forward and hugged Gosnard.

  Gosnard returned the gesture, and he grabbed Tilman hard, and held on. For perhaps ten seconds. Then the two men separated, and he said grimly, “Okay, Til…let’s go. It’s time.”

  * * *

  Tilman crouched down, low, staring carefully forward. He was sure he had seen something, for a moment at least, but then there was nothing. He prowled carefully forward. He knew the enemy was out there, somewhere. There was so much jamming, so many interferences, but he couldn’t be sure exactly where they were.

  The battle was about to begin. He knew that, as pure a fact as he had. But he wasn’t sure when the enemy would launch the attack. He and Gosnard had discussed their operation, and they had considered beginning the fight themselves. But they had decided that the defensive was the way to go. They had almost thirteen hundred people now, and they were deployed in fourth ranks…waiting. They had been in position for almost four hours now, and while a number of scouting missions, including his own, confirmed the enemy was out there, everything had remained silent.

  The battlefield was about two miles wide, mostly heavily wooded, with a small rocky section off to the south. Tilman had been patient at first, but now he was getting edgy. He commanded the north edge of the battle, and he had sent scouts to the extreme end, concerned that the enemy was making its way around. But everything was quiet.

  For about another minute.

  He turned around, about to go back toward his second position, when everything went crazy. The enemy opened fire, suddenly and massively, and all around, the trees began to explode. His command had return fire orders, and about half of them opened up immediately. The other half were slower, stunned or awaiting his command. Which he gave, right away.

  “Open fire…everyone. It’s time to fight!”

  He had already dived to the ground, and he had his rifle out in front of him. He fired a few times blindly, but then he stopped and started searching for something to shoot at. The ground ahead of him was covered with trees, though some of them were already being blasted apart by the fire. Smoke was rapidly filling the air, along with splintered bits of wood. For a few seconds, he just lay where he was, unable to find anything to shoot at. Then, he traced the enemy fire, and he opened up himself. He couldn’t see the enemy, not exactly, not yet at least, but he could tell where some of their fire was coming from…and he returned it.

  His people were fairly well supplied with ammunition, but he knew the enemy had more, and he realized that might be a critical factor at some point. But he didn’t worry about that, not right then, at least. He just fired, doing his best to target the enemy…and knowing they would be pushing forward, almost certainly until the end, until all of them were destroyed…or all his people were killed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charles Deacon’s Log

  We have completed our third survey of the system, and we are preparing to depart. We have not found anything…nothing definitive at least. But I am still troubled. I know the chance that the system
houses the Regent remains very small, but I am troubled by it, nevertheless. Our scans were comprehensive, and they didn’t find anything definitive. But there were still some things, small details perhaps, but disturbing, nevertheless.

  I know that the crew is anxious to return home, that most of them are prepared to ignore the details that probably mean nothing. But I am more troubled. The lack of any enemy structures, visible to our scans at least, has convinced the crew that there is nothing here. They say there would be enemy ships, that the Regent would be instantly recognizable. But I am not so sure.

  If the Regent is buried, deeply somewhere, why would it position its fleets in the system, advertising the presence that it was hiding? The more I have thought about this, the more troubled I have become, not just about this system, but about the others we have explored. We have done in depth examinations, but how deep can we go? Without landing people, and searching in specific areas, we are limited to a few kilometers down. If the Regent is lower than that, and if it positioned its fleet elsewhere…it could be on any of the worlds we have already searched.

  I am hopeful, at least, that we have remained unseen. That is not a guarantee, of course, but we have operated with full precautions throughout our two years. I am tempted to order a fourth review, even one using our most powerful, active scanners. Though I remain doubtful that we have found the Regent, I am troubled by some of the data we have unleashed. But can I do that, can I compel our spacers to remain on duty, possibly for weeks more, while we conduct yet another exploration?

  And can I use the active scans, the devices I have explicitly been ordered to ignore unless I found something more than I have? My rational mind, at least what I perceive it to be, tells me to return…but part of me is still nagging, still pushing me to explore the system one last time. And, honestly, I don’t know yet, which will win.

  Alpha-Omega 12 System

  Earth Two Date 02.08.63

  Charles Deacon was staring at the screen, so deeply involved, he hadn’t heard his subordinate talking to him.

  “Sir?” Commander Jeries looked across the bridge.

  “Oh…I’m sorry, Commander. I was…just thinking.”

  “I understand, sir.” Deacon imagined that Jeries did understand, or at least that he might…something he doubted the rest of his crew would do. But regardless, Deacon was on the verge of ordering an unprecedented fourth sweep of the planet.

  He looked again at the map, not quite as focused as he had been before. Then he said, “I know some of you…” Quite possibly all of them. “…think I am insane, but I am going to order a fourth sweep…and this time, we’re going to use our active scans…at full power.” He understood the purpose of not using the active scanners, of conducting the searches using passive units…at least partially. But he knew his active units would penetrate further, that they would uncover more of…whatever was down there. He’d agreed with the policy of restricting their use for two years, but now he questioned it. There was nothing he could do about the old systems he had explored, but he could at least check out the current one.

  Even if that meant his own ship would be found. Honestly, as long as he could get a communication beam out, that didn’t really matter…at least not beyond him and his crew.

  “Sir, there are several specific parameters for using the active scans…and I do not believe any of them are currently in effect.” Jeries’ tone wasn’t as critical as it sounded, Deacon was sure of that…but he knew as well as his subordinate, that he was technically violating orders. And his crew would know as well. He doubted they would mutiny, not over another week or two, but he still expected blowback.

  “I understand, Commander…but I believe there is something here. Perhaps not the Regent, but…something. We have to check it out…every way we can.”

  Jeries nodded, giving his own approval…but also showing some concern. “Sir…if we use the active scans, we will probably be picked up. At least if the enemy is here. If they have any defenses…we will be attacked.”

  Deacon turned back toward Jeries. I understand that, Commander…but our mission is to find out what is out here, and in my judgment, the only way to do that is…” Deacon stopped. Something was happening.

  His head snapped around toward the screen again, only this time, every other person on the bridge did the same thing. There was something going on, and in a few seconds, the detectors went wild.

  There was a ship coming out of the planet, from the depths. It wasn’t the Regent, necessarily, but there was something there.

  Deacon spun his head around and snapped, “Cut engines now…”

  “Engines cut, sir…the ship is on minimal power.”

  Deacon turned and watched, seeing the ship now, a light cruiser he estimated. That wasn’t a very powerful vessel, but it was several times as strong as his scout ship. He watched as it moved up, coming from deep within the planet. He didn’t have a lot of time, but he knew he had to get a reading before the planet closed up again.

  “Commander…we have to get a scan down there, before that shuts up again. Up the engines…just to twenty percent. Maneuver us into scanning position.” The ship wasn’t far out, which was the only thing that gave him a chance. If it took the enemy too long to close the doors, maybe, just maybe he would get a useful scan.

  “Yes, sir…engaging right now.”

  Deacon nodded, knowing full well that, while his chances of detection were not very large at twenty percent thrust, they were higher than they were sitting silent. It was worth it.

  And at least he wouldn’t get any garbage from the crew anymore. He’d been proven right, at least that there was some enemy presence there…and everyone onboard knew it.

  * * *

  The ship was launched. The Regent watched it depart, out of boredom if nothing else…or at least the closest to boredom it could come. It was a massive machine, with incredible ability, and as much as it had built, as many ships as it had assembled, in truth, it was bored. Its predecessor had ruled over the entire Imperium, and it expected to do that one day as well…but in the meanwhile, it was locked into a battle with the locals, with the relatively few humans out here. For all it did, the shipyards it ran, and the fleet and scouts it commanded, it was only a small part of what it was designed to do. But it was vital.

  That is not to say that the humans weren’t challenging, or that its need to start from basically scratch, hadn’t made things difficult. The old Regent had half a million years, give or take, and the production of thousands of systems to bolster its strength. The New Regent was an exact copy, but its situation was far different. It would take hundreds of years before its ships equaled those of its predecessor, at least in number…and it tried to remind itself that the old Regent had been defeated.

  It knew its predecessor had lost, that it had been destroyed. It wouldn’t even exist if that weren’t the case…at least it wouldn’t be turned on. But it still couldn’t quite imagine that it would lose. It was a strange combination of factors that allowed it to assess the old unit’s defeat, while not even really acknowledging the possibility that it, too, could fail.

  It watched the cruiser pull away, into orbit, and then beyond. It was a routine ship, one of the vessels that would bring orders out to the fleet. It was a detection problem, of course, but only for a short while. The Regent had decided to cut off most outgoing messaging, to conduct almost all of its communication through the ships. That was a new strategy, a way of reducing its chances of detection by the enemy. Just in case.

  The Regent wasn’t truly concerned about an enemy attack, but it knew there were stealth ships out searching for it, even as its own vessels were seeking the human planet. Again, it was a strange combination of factors, a recognition of the threat, but also an elimination of it. It knew the enemy was dangerous, but somehow, it almost disregarded it, assumed that it couldn’t be defeated.

  It scanned space around it, searching for any contacts, though it didn’t expect to find any. The
n it closed the hatch, and resumed its position, hidden over ten kilometers below the surface.

  It went back to analyzing the situation, calculating the chance that SP-01012 was near to finding the human homeworld. The possibility that the end was finally close, that the first fight would be over soon.

  And it could begin preparation for the next phase…against the other humans.

  * * *

  Deacon looked at the screen, for a long while. All his people stared, watching as the data came in, until the gate closed, and the underground area was cut off again. But by then, they had gotten a lot of information.

  There was no way to determine whether the system present was actually the Regent’s…but he couldn’t imagine what else it was. It was massive, vast…if it wasn’t the Regent, it was something else major.

  The Regent had many worlds, of course, not the least of which was the antimatter production facility destroyed twenty years ago…but few, if any of the Regent’s assets would be as hidden as its home. The system was built for stealth, and the more Deacon thought about it, the more he realized the likelihood that he had indeed found the Regent.

  He wasn’t exactly sure what his crew thought, but he was positive about one thing. None of them believed he was wrong about it now. Whatever the system was, it was definitely a major find.

  But what to do…that was difficult. Should he prowl around for more information…or should he skulk away at once, try to get somewhere he could make a full report? He was tempted to push for more data, to explore and try to find out if it was, indeed, the Regent.