by Doug Farren
All of the defense stations within range of the battleship, along with four peacekeeper ships, were now destroyed. A large number of additional vessels were converging on the battleship including Tom’s. An idea popped into his head and without giving it another thought he instantly reacted. In a flurry of activity he shut down his propulsion system, lowered his shield, turned off his active sensors, and engaged stealth mode. In this configuration, he was still detectable but with all the activity in the area, there was a slim chance he might go unnoticed long enough for him to get close to the battleship.
With his long-range sensors off-line, he relied on the data feed from the tactical data network that linked all the ships together. Several other peacekeepers had taken notice of what he had done and followed suit. Out of curiosity, Tom asked the Orion to locate Lashpa’s ship. One of the icons near the edge of the approaching hoard flashed.
The battleship began moving again but by now the peacekeeper ships were coming within range. The battleship’s Kyrra weapon reached out bringing death and destruction. Tom could only watch in horror as ship after ship was destroyed, there were dozens of them and they were all moving toward the battleship at high speed. It wasn’t long before the peacekeepers opened fire.
Swarms of missiles, half of them gravity mines and the others tipped with thermonuclear warheads, raced toward the enemy. The battleship’s point defense systems did their best to destroy them but some were bound to get through. Bright points of light appeared on the enemy’s shield as several missiles struck. Space was filled with the debris of destroyed ships and missiles, making navigation difficult. Tom was forced to raise his shield to prevent the debris from damaging his ship.
The fleeting battleship came within range of two more defense stations. They revealed themselves by firing off their entire arsenal of missiles as well as taking aim with their energy cannons. The Chroniech shield, weakened by the detonation of a nearby warhead, was momentarily breached and a portion of the hull blew outward as it failed under the assault. The breach was short-lived and the stations were quickly destroyed.
Assuming he would soon be spotted, Tom decided he could wait no longer. Sealing his spacesuit in case the worst happened, he leaned forward and began entering commands. Five rapid-fire thumps rumbled through the ship as the Orion fired off its remaining missiles. Eight seconds after his last missile cleared the tube, the Orion was hit.
Tom’s control console lit up as a huge number of alarms suddenly appeared. His brain barely had time to register this fact before the control center went black as all power was lost. He was pushed violently into his chair as powerful rockets jettisoned the entire command module—straight into the beam that had just destroyed his ship.
Chapter 54
“Hull breach frame 110 to 119 decks 9 through 11,” Tanaktak reported as the Dragon managed to get off a shot with one of its Kyrra weapons. “Energy cannon three and close defense modules 11, 15, 17 and 19 have been destroyed.”
The panic and confusion that had ensued immediately after the Dragon’s initial attack had been replaced by the military efficiency of a close-knit, highly trained bridge crew. Varku sat in his chair, a towel pressed against his mouth, unable to speak because of the swelling that had turned his tongue into an uncooperative blob of painful muscle. Captain Albrath directed his crew with a single goal in mind—retreat. But doing so was proving to be harder than expected.
“Why have we not yet destroyed the Alliance cruiser?” Albrath demanded.
“It’s managed to stay inside our blind spot,” Tanaktak replied. “I’ve also had to use the Kyrra weapon against the defense stations to prevent them from breaching our shield.”
Albrath glanced at his tactical display. “The cruiser will be out of range in less than a minute. Will you be able to engage?”
“No Sir.”
“Then ignore them.” Leaning forward in his chair, Albrath looked into the camera sending his image to the engineering section of the ship. “Masthuma! What’s the status of our stardrive?”
The chief engineer’s head was bobbing back and forth as he consulted various screens. His arms were in constant motion as he manipulated the controls outside the camera’s field of view. He didn’t bother to look at the Captain as he replied, “We blew out a control circuit when the drive fields collapsed. I have a repair team working on it now. They should be done in about ten minutes.”
Albrath glanced at the tactical display and frowned. “Sooner would be better. Have you figured out- - -”
“Defense station dead … correction … two stations directly ahead!” Tanaktak interrupted.
Albrath jerked his head around and glared at Tanaktak. The tactical operator was perfectly aware of what happened to his predecessor and he’d been doing his best not to make the same mistake. Before he had a chance to reply, several alarms appeared on the panel. “Multiple missiles inbound—engaging.”
“I think they hit us with an enhanced FTL beam weapon,” Masthuma answered the incomplete question.
“They did what?” Albrath asked, still staring at Tanaktak.
“They used their own Kyrra weapon to disrupt- - -”
“Defense module four destroyed,” Tanaktak said, as a missile made it through their defenses and detonated against their shield, weakening it enough for one of the defense station weapons to penetrate.
“Tanaktak!” Albrath started to get out of his chair but changed his mind. They were in the middle of a battle and beating his tactical officer to a pulp at this time would not have been a prudent choice.
There was a discernible lurch as yet another gravity mine got close enough to activate.
“Keep those gravity mines away from us!” Masthuma yelled, momentarily disregarding all protocol. “I can’t reset the stardrive with those damn things anywhere near us and the constantly shifting gravity field is interfering with the sublight drive as well.”
Albrath forced his anger into a corner of his mind. Getting out of his chair he walked over to the newly appointed tactical officer, bent down so only he could hear him, and said, “If you don’t keep those gravity mines away from us, I’m going to strip you naked and drop you off on an Alliance planet—am I clear?”
Tanaktak was busily working his console. Without looking up, he growled, “I understand, but the Alliance has launched hundreds of missiles at us and our defenses will not stop them all. I will do the best I can.”
“You will succeed,” Albrath growled back. “Or suffer the consequences. I am not- - -”
Albrath stopped as he felt a strong hand descend on his shoulder. Spinning around to confront whoever it was he found himself face-to-face with Varku. The Commander grabbed Albrath’s arm and not too gently gave him a push toward the captain’s chair.
“Let him work,” Varku managed to say, his words barely understandable.
Even though Varku was injured he was still physically stronger than Albrath and also very much in command. Albrath sat down heavily in the chair and yelled, “Masthuma! How long?”
There was no answer; the chief engineer had apparently stepped away from the console.
“Two large vessels have appeared directly ahead,” Tanaktak announced. “Cruiser-class, heavily armed.”
These were the two Tholtaran stealth vessels. The Tholtarans had been using stealth technology for several decades and these cruisers were the biggest ships now equipped with such technology. Like all Tholtaran ships, they were also heavily armed. Both vessels had been moving toward the battleship ever since it was forced out of stardrive. Unlike other stealth-capable ships, the Tholtaran cruisers did not have to rely on stored power. The heavy shielding around their fusion reactors allowed them to operate at low power levels and still remain virtually undetectable.
The moment it became clear they had been detected, both Tholtaran ships fired off every missile in their arsenal. The missiles spread out and rapidly accelerated toward their target. The battleship’s anti-missile defense systems were alr
eady overwhelmed and these additional missiles only pushed it far beyond its capacity to stop them all. Thermonuclear warheads began detonating against the Chroniech shield, erupting in millisecond-long bursts of brilliant light. The glowing gases and deflected plasma illuminated the surrounding space.
Albrath looked up at the tactical display and watched as the cloud of missiles appeared. He stood up and yelled, “Tanaktak!” It was the last word he ever spoke.
Several missiles sailed through the overloaded shield and detonated on impact with the hull. No material substance can exist inside an atomic firestorm. The first missile carved a crater out of the side of the gigantic ship, turning tens of thousands of tons of what had once been a mighty engine of destruction, into vapor. The remains of the ship had not yet begun to move in response to the shock-wave of the first explosion when two more missiles struck. In a matter of seconds every living thing aboard the battleship died. The remains created a slightly glowing cloud of expanding debris that quickly merged with the other debris from the destroyed Alliance ships.
Chapter 55
Lashpa listened as the rescue ship performed a roll-call. She recognized most of the names—peacekeepers whose ships had been destroyed.
“Povrash, status?”
“No injuries. No leaks. Low priority.”
“Copy Povrash. Location fixed. Standby. Rickter, status?”
An ominous silence followed. The name was repeated and after another silent pause the list of names continued.
“Orion, status?”
Lashpa listened intently but there was no reply to the first or second attempt. She sat staring at her console, looking at it but not really seeing it, as the roll call followed by the rescue assignments continued.
“Peacekeeper Lashpa.” Hearing her name jolted her back to the present. “Pickup Peacekeeper Frynath. ETA 55 minutes.”
“Acknowledged,” she mechanically replied, as the ship automatically began moving.
Focusing on the present, she noted that Frynath did not require any medical treatment. She was also Rouldian. The ship maneuvered through the debris until it located Frynath’s beacon.
“Peacekeeper Frynath,” she said. “Prepare for docking.”
A few minutes later, she met her guest at the airlock.
“I am Lashpa-ga-Tom Krish-ga-Wilks,” she introduced herself. “Krish,” she addressed the ship before Frynath could reply, “inform the rescue coordinator that we’ve picked up Frynath and ask them if we have any other assignments.”
“Acknowledged. I have established temporary oversight on Peacekeeper Frynath,” the ship informed them as Lashpa secured the airlock door.
The AI of each and every peacekeeper ship was more than just a source of information. They were the insurance that a peacekeeper would always follow the letter of Alliance law. The AIs monitored their respective peacekeepers through sensors embedded in the cybernetics and listened to their thoughts through the biolink.
Using the same technology that enabled a peacekeeper to be immersed in a virtual reality environment, the AIs could take over a peacekeeper and stop him from violating the law. Failsafes built into the cybernetics would force them to switch to a very slow mode of operation if contact was lost with the AI for more than a few hours.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Frynath said. “But your grakch has a very unusual name. May I ask where he is from?”
“He’s Terran and I would prefer not to discuss it at the moment. Krish, jettison the command module.”
A dull thump could be heard as the ship complied with the order. “Command module jettisoned.”
Frynath looked at Lashpa. She returned her stare for a moment then turned and led the way down the passageway.
“My ship was hit pretty early,” Frynath said from behind. “How many did we lose?”
“Sixty-two peacekeeper ships were destroyed. Forty-eight are presumed dead along with the entire crew of one of the Tholtaran stealth cruisers,” Laspha replied. “My ship is one of only fifteen that were not destroyed.”
“At least we kept the battleship here long enough for the fleet to arrive.”
“The fleet was not needed. The Komodo Dragon must have done some damage before it disengaged. Their ability to intercept the large number of missiles deployed against them seemed to have been reduced. Their defenses were overwhelmed and the battleship has been destroyed.”
“We have no other assignments at this time,” Krish privately told Lashpa as they arrived at the guest room.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Lashpa told Frynath. “I’ll be staying in the area for an indeterminate period of time.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seem a little distracted.”
Lashpa decided she owed Frynath an explanation. “Tom Wilks is a peacekeeper. His ship was among those destroyed by the Chroniech. His emergency beacon has not been activated and he’s not responded to repeated hails. He is presumed dead. I believe he is still alive and I intend on searching for him.”
“I understand,” Frynath replied, dipping her head. “I will leave you to mourn his loss.”
“He’s not dead!” she said louder than necessary. Her tail was vibrating so hard it was practically humming.
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because we are gragrakch!” she hissed, spun around, and headed for the command center.
* * * * *
The impenetrable blackness was lifted by the appearance of the white-hot glow of melting and burning steel. Time slowed. The atmosphere rushed out of the cabin, instantly filling the inside with a cloud of dust and frozen water vapor. This made the beam visible. Tom noted that it was nearly half a meter in diameter and was rapidly heading toward him.
With the Orion destroyed, the Chroniech tactical computer no longer considered it a threat and moved on to another target. The last thing the beam struck the instant before vanishing was one of the oxygen cylinders bolted to the bulkhead. It exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. Tom felt a sharp pain on the right side of his chest.
The HUD, showing the status of his spacesuit, disappeared as he looked down at his chest. The fading glow of melted metal gave him enough light to see that a small piece of the oxygen tank now protruded from the far right side of his chest. Black liquid oozed from the suit sealing the leak. The angle suggested that it could have reached his heart but the fact that he was still alive seemed to indicate it hadn’t. The loss of the HUD was good evidence that his internal computer, located where his right lung used to be, had stopped the piece of metal before it penetrated far enough to kill him.
Tom took a moment to assess his situation. He tried to use the magnification abilities of his eyes to get a closer look at the damage but with his internal computer no longer functioning, all his cybernetics had defaulted to a non-enhanced mode. The command module had been nearly split in half by the energy beam. The only thing keeping the two halves together was a narrow strip of the deck and most of the port-side bulkhead. Bits and pieces of debris floated around bouncing off bulkheads and each other.
Half of his oxygen supply was gone. The emergency beacon, located inside an armored box bolted to the starboard bulkhead, was a total loss. Looking down, he noted that most of his right leg from the knee down had been crushed by a strong impact—most likely a large piece of the exploding oxygen tank. Holding his breath and listening, he concluded that any additional damage his suit had taken had been minor and there were no leaks—at least none he could hear. Holding his hands up in front of his eyes so he could see them in the growing darkness revealed that the fingers of his right hand had been severely damaged. Three of them were missing. His thumb and forefinger dangled from what was left of his palm. His left hand seemed okay.
Tom estimated he had a little over 10 hours of oxygen remaining. The chance of rescue, however, was exceedingly remote. His emergency beacon was destroyed. The transmitter built into his skull cap was most likely operational but without his internal comput
er it was completely useless. For a moment he considered unstrapping himself from the chair but then what would he do?
The command module was a complete wreck and it was now impossible to see anything. Moving around blindly—moving around at all—was a very bad idea considering he had a piece of metal sticking out of the side of his chest. This sort of injury would have been lethal to a normal human, but he had no lung to puncture and as long as the piece of shrapnel remained imbedded in the computer, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have any internal bleeding.
Ten hours was a long time for someone to be trapped inside a dark box floating through the depths of space with virtually no hope of rescue. All kinds of psychological problems could cause Tom to begin to act irrationally. Instead of worrying about what might happen, he focused his mind. He visualized a chessboard and began moving pieces. After a few moves, his mind conjured up an opponent—Lashpa.
“I guess I didn’t make it,” he said aloud, his voice sounding strange and muffled inside the suit. “Somehow, I get the feeling that you did.”
A heavy impact caused him to lose focus. He would most likely encounter more of these as his command module moved through the debris left over from the battle. “Some day,” he thought, “they’ll find my frozen body when they get around to salvaging what’s left of my ship.”
Another impact, this one much smaller, jolted him back to reality. “That’s no way to be talking!” he yelled at himself. “Stay focused. You’re not dead yet.”
* * * * *
“Incoming communication,” Krish informed Lashpa.
Tapping the flashing icon on her screen caused the face of a Shandarian captain to appear.
“Peacekeeper Krish, your assistance is no longer required,” he said. “The fleet has been ordered to Glish.”
“I am continuing rescue operations,” she replied.
The Captain glanced at a screen to his left. “All known survivors have been retrieved. Several ships are remaining to search for bodies. I have no authority to order you- - -”