by Doug Farren
Activating the internal monitors brought forth the image of his workbench, his woodworking tools, carvings, and pieces of wood were scattered around the room. A line of emergency sealant indicated where the laser had penetrated the exterior bulkhead. Panning the camera around gave him a view of the destruction. The bed was a charred mess, the floor was littered with debris, and laying against the wall, as if it had been miraculously saved, was the recently completed carving of the Komodo Dragon.
Chapter 38
“The transmission is being jammed at the source,” the communications operator reported.
“What do you suppose they were trying to say?” Admiral Cornelius asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sorbith replied. “But it sure sounded like the Mowry were trying to warn us about something. Any word from Peacekeeper Wilks?”
“His ship is still running silent,” the Admiral replied.
“Continue as planned,” Sorbith said, after a moment.
Several minutes passed during which Sorbith replayed the abruptly terminated message several times. Suddenly, the simulation he was in swirled as his ghostly presence appeared to flash at blinding speed toward the planet. Working at faster-than-light speeds, the ship’s long-range sensors had picked up weapons fire and had instantly taken him to the scene of the action. At first, the weapons appeared to be targeting empty space but a second later the icon of an unknown vessel appeared.
Sorbith barely had time to wonder what was going on before the icon changed to that of a Seeker-class scout—the Orion!
“Tactical update coming in from the Orion,” the communications operator announced.
A quick command from Sorbith caused a virtual monitor to appear showing the type of data that was being received. Unlike standard communication channels, the tactical data network in use by the Alliance was a modified version of the Tholtaran network and was virtually jam-proof as well as totally secure. The summary was almost instantly replaced by the priority data the computer had just received. Sorbith and Admiral Cornelius absorbed the information concerning the shipyards as fast as it was presented.
“That explains the limited number of ships we’ve seen,” the Admiral remarked.
“I wouldn’t call 109 a limited number,” Sorbith said.
“It is when you consider how long the Purists may have been building ships,” Cornelius replied. Calling up a virtual white-board, the Admiral quickly explained. “Let’s assume it took them five years to find the Mowry and another five to get their first shipyard up and running. If it takes them five years to build the next two and each shipyard can produce only two ships a year they should have at least 210 ships. If their production rate is higher, then they should have even more. Where are they?”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Sorbith asked.
“Because I assumed you had already thought of it.”
Returning to the summary, Sorbith spotted another item and called it up on the display. The short conversation between Tom and the Mowry played itself out. “What do you make of that?” Cornelius asked, after the update ended.
“Sounds to me like the Purists helped a few power-hungry Mowry gain control so they could practically enslave the population. The good news is we don’t have to hold back on attacking those ships. Let the fleet know.”
A blinking icon indicated an incoming transmission for Sorbith. Tapping it with his virtual finger caused Tom’s image to appear. “Well done!” Sorbith began. “We received your tactical data. What’s your status?”
“I took a laser hit before I could raise my shield,” Tom reported. “My stateroom is pretty much a total loss. Other than that though, I’m in good shape. I’m making my way back to the fleet.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re okay. Stay out of weapons range until the Purist ships are neutralized.”
“Acknowledged—Wilks out.”
An hour later, Sorbith was enjoying a cup of coffee when everything began to fall apart. “A large number of AOH warships have been detected heading into the system,” his ship informed him via biolink.
“Link to the Tripoli’s control web,” Sorbith ordered. His surroundings vanished as the computer made the connection. In an instant, he was transported into the simulated environment.
Admiral Cornelius acknowledged his appearance with a single short grunt. The look on his face indicated the seriousness of the situation. “We’ve picked up over 1,500 ships heading this way,” he said. “As far as we can tell, all of them are AOH destroyers.”
“Fifteen-hundred! How the hell did they manage to amass a fleet of that size in less than 50 years? Where are they?”
The Admiral turned and pointed to a fuzzy blob in the simulation’s sky. With a flip of his wrist, the blob grew in size until they could just barely make out hundreds of points of light. “They’re just passing HR 8323 and are on a direct course here,” Cornelius said. “I'm glad we left a few probes behind when we left the system.”
Sorbith stared at the mass of ships heading their way. He was having a hard time believing what he was seeing. His once superior fleet was now completely outgunned. “Abort the mission,” he finally said, sounding dejected. “Alter course and head out of the system. Have a few ships drop stealth probes and flash this data to Centralis.”
As he issued his final command, Sorbith vanished from the simulation. “Contact the Komodo Dragon,” Sorbith told his ship. “I want to speak to Scarboro.”
Doug’s face appeared on the monitor so fast that Sorbith thought he might have been waiting for him. “You wished to speak to me?”
“I assume you’ve heard the news.”
“Of course.”
“I want you to shadow that fleet. Report its every movement. Make no attempt to engage, just keep your eye on them.”
“I understand,” Doug replied. “Any idea where they came from?”
“Not at the moment,” Sorbith shook his head. “But I’ve recently received some information that suggests the Purists are not building ships in the Mowry system as we originally thought. It appears as if they have a much larger shipyard somewhere else.”
“They’ve been pretty busy out here. Are you going to try to find it?”
“Of course I am! Based on how fast that fleet of theirs arrived it can’t be too far away. You have your assignment. Sorbith out.”
Sorbith sat in thought for a few minutes, trying to work out what he would do next. Coming to a decision, he put in a call to Admiral Cornelius. As soon as the connection was made, he said, “Spread the fleet out and find the Puritan shipyard. Utilize every FTL probe in the fleet’s arsenal if you have to. It has to be nearby. Start by backtracking where that fleet of theirs came from.”
“Aye Sir. What about the Mowry? They’ve asked for our help.”
“There’s nothing we can do right now,” Sorbith replied. “I’m afraid they’ll have to wait.”
“What are you going to do about all this—call for more ships?”
“I don’t know. As soon as you’re clear of the system, drop to normal and hold position. I’m coming aboard. Sorbith out.”
A few hours later, Sorbith boarded the Tripoli and headed for the main conference room. Upon entering, he looked around to make sure everyone was present. The Admiral and his advisory staff were seated at the table. Several of the more senior captains were present via video feed. Six of them, including Doug Scarboro, were displayed on the room’s large wall-mounted monitor.
“We are here to discuss our options concerning the Purist fleet,” Sorbith began. “For the moment, I have ordered Admiral Cornelius to use the ships we currently have to search for the Purist shipyard. Based upon the large number of ships the Purists have produced, their shipyard must be quite large which should—”
“Or incredibly automated,” Scarboro interrupted.
Sorbith looked up at the monitor. The smirk on Scarboro’s face indicated he knew something. “Do you have some additional information you might like to add?” So
rbith asked. He did not like being interrupted.
“We’ve been scanning the ships making up the Purist fleet,” Scarboro replied. “As far as we can tell, they’re all identical to each other—like they’ve been stamped from the same mold.”
“All of them?” the Admiral asked.
“Well, there are a few oddballs we’ve identified as older ships most likely acquired by the AOH over the years. The unique vessels, however, are all exactly the same.”
“An interesting piece of information,” Sorbith said. “The problem facing us now, however, is what should be done about the Purist fleet.”
“That’s easy,” Admiral Cornelius said. “Contact Centralis and tell them we need a few thousand ships to convince them to leave.”
“That is a typical military solution,” an Omel Captain said. “One must also consider the Mowry. They are a technologically disadvantaged species and have no defenses against the forces we would employ. Starting a war with the Purists, especially with so many ships involved, would most likely result in significant collateral damage. I fear a great many Mowry would be killed.”
“A fact that has given me great cause for concern,” Sorbith admitted. “Even something as mundane as the debris of such a battle could be the cause of untold Mowry deaths. I do not believe the Council will authorize such an action.”
“Then what are we to do?” Scarboro said. “We can’t just sit here and let the Purists thumb their noses at us.”
“That is the purpose of this meeting,” Sorbith said. “I don’t know what we should do. I’m looking for suggestions.”
Sorbith looked around the room. The only response he received was a vast chasm of silence. Finally, one of the Admiral’s advisers said, “Perhaps we could quarantine the system. Isolate them until they come to their senses.”
“And the Mowry?” someone asked.
“I…” the adviser threw his hands up in the air and leaned back in his chair.
“I have a question rather than a suggestion,” a Shandarian Captain spoke up. Seeing she had Sorbith’s attention, she said, “How are the Purists able to man and support so many ships?”
A confused look appeared on Sorbith’s face. “I don’t understand your question—elaborate.”
The Captain had been quietly using the keyboard built into the tabletop to run some numbers. Looking at the results, she said, “The standard crew compliment of a medium destroyer is 230. A fleet of 1,600 ships would require a total of 368,000 trained individuals. Such a fleet would also require a large amount of support to supply them with parts, weapons, and other supplies. For calculational purposes, the standard is to use the crew size to obtain the number of people involved in support. That brings our total to 736,000. According to the historical files, approximately 120,000 Purists left Earth in the years following the Tholtaran war. Given a decent growth rate, and the fact that a little over 50 years have passed, their population would now be about 413,000. The numbers don’t add up.”
The entire conference room responded with dead silence. The Tri-Star’s AI, having overheard the discussion, ran the numbers and confirmed the results. “I don’t know what to say,” Sorbith finally said. “You’re right of course; my ship has confirmed your results. But the fact remains that the AOH is in possession of a large number of ships. Both facts can’t be true, yet both are undeniable.”
“Perhaps the Purists have engaged in recruiting activities in order to bolster their ranks,” Chyr suggested.
“Or their ships are highly automated allowing them to be run by a much smaller crew,” a Rouldian Captain added.
“It doesn't really matter,” Sorbith said, regaining control of the meeting, “We must deal with their fleet. Although it is yet another mystery to be solved, I’m forced to set it aside for now so we can discuss the far more important issue of what we're going to do about these ships. I’m still looking for suggestions.”
Sorbith waited, but nobody said a word. Frustrated, he glared at the group. “Then I have no choice but to forward this problem with no suggestions for a solution to Centralis. Perhaps they can come up with something. Meeting adjourned.”
After seeing his guests off the ship, Sorbith composed a detailed report to the Alliance Grand Council with an urgent request for direction. It took them two days to reply. While he waited, he continued to mull over the problem. Why did the Purists decide to reveal the strength of their fleet? Why muster them here? Given the Purist’s desire to ‘free Earth’ as they put it, what would they do with such a large fleet? The more he considered the problem, the more convinced he became that the Purists were gathering their forces.
The answer from Centralis baffled him and solidified his conclusions. The Admiral’s face appeared on the monitor in response to Sorbith’s request. “I take it you’ve read the reply from Centralis?” the Admiral asked, as soon as the connection was made.
“I have. Frankly, I thought they would take some kind of action.”
“I’m baffled,” the Admiral replied, rubbing the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger, “We’re supposed to just keep doing what we’ve been doing? I don’t get it.”
“I do have a theory,” Sorbith said. “What have the Purists desired ever since leaving Earth?”
“Well, in their own words, they want to keep humans pure and undefiled from all alien influence. In other words, they want Earth to sever all ties with the Alliance and kick all non-humans off the planet. Crazy if you ask me.”
“It might be crazy, but they have a fleet of ships at their disposal to make the attempt. They know we don’t dare attack them while they're in orbit around the Mowry homeworld. My guess is they’re making plans to carry out their threat and attack Earth.”
“Earth? You actually think they’ll try to attack Earth? That’s insane!”
“We’re dealing with fanatics,” Sorbith explained. “If we hadn’t found them, they would have continued to build their fleet until they had more than enough to crush Earth’s defenses. We have forced them to accelerate their plans.”
“So now what?”
“Since Centralis has refused to make a decision, I’m going to make one. I’m heading for Earth.”
“What the heck are you going to do once you get there?” the Admiral asked.
“I’m not sure, but I have to do something. Sorbith out.”
After terminating the link, Sorbith said, “Set course for Earth.”
“Speed?”
Although Peacekeepers were given an incredible amount of authority, they were not in a position to order an entire planet to put their military on alert. While 1,500 warships is an impressive fleet, it wouldn’t be enough to ensure victory. Earth’s World President would laugh him out of the office. He needed to be absolutely sure of his conviction and he needed to find a way to convince the World President of the danger. With the Purist fleet gathered in the Mowry system, there was no need to task his stardrive. He needed some time to think.
Coming to a decision, he replied, “Set our speed at 3,000c.”
The ship’s computer acknowledged the order. The stardrive matrix field began to form and 20 seconds later, the Tri-Star’s FTL drive engaged.
Chapter 39
As instructed, the Komodo Dragon followed the massive fleet of AOH vessels. They ignored him until the fleet moved deeper into the Mowry system. Three ships were then dispatched to chase the unwanted intruder away.
“Warn them off,” Doug ordered.
A minute later, the communications operator turned around and raised his hands, palms up, to either side of his body. “No response Sir.”
“Very well. Tactical, lock weapons and prepare to fire on my command—full power.”
“Aye Sir!”
Four pinpoints of actinic light appeared on the Dragon’s surface. Each one represented a growing soliton of terrific power. The circulating electromagnetic fields of the weapon’s exterior were just barely able to hold back the twin particle streams zipping around in
side them. Protons and anti-protons spun around inside the weapon releasing synchrotron radiation as they fought to escape their confinement. Once achieving full power, the sledgehammers waited. But as powerful as these impressive weapons were, they paled in comparison to the ship’s main batteries.
Deep inside the Dragon’s hull, two weapons built by an ancient race prepared to deliver an inconceivable torrent of energy driven at faster than light speed. These very same weapons had easily defeated the far stronger shields of Chroniech battleships. They had reluctantly been installed on the Dragon by the Hess in order to give the ship a chance of success at returning the Kyrra to their home.
Doug waited until the Purist ships came within 75,000 kilometers before giving the command. “Fire,” he said in a calm voice.
Four sparkling balls of energy emerged from the throats of the sledgehammers. Launched by powerful electromagnetic fields, they flew toward their target at just under 10% light speed. The eye cannot discern something so small traveling so fast and if someone had been watching the battle with their naked eyes, they would have seen only a short burst of light from each sledgehammer.
Long before the sledgehammers arrived at their target, the energy weapons reached out like two ghostly blue fingers of death. Traveling at FTL velocity, fempto-second long pulses of compressed energy raced through space to crash against the AOH shields. The FTL fields collapsed as they passed through the shield delivering most of the contained energy to the doomed target. The armor plating didn’t have a chance to even glow as it exploded into space.
Hard metal and ablative material was instantly transformed into a plasma as hot as the core of a star. A tiny hole formed allowing the plasma access to the interior of the ship. It expanded in a plume of destruction, superheating the air around it as it burned its way deeper into the ship. Fed by the unstoppable beam, the plume of plasma burned its way through decks, walls, machinery, furniture, and several crew members.
The superheated air expanded, overpressurizing the compartments through which the beam penetrated. Unable to hold back the pressure, the weakened hull exploded outward venting the outside compartments to space. The bulkheads of the interior compartments bulged then ripped apart, sending shrapnel into the adjacent spaces. Vent ducts became pathways for flames and pressure waves, allowing the destruction to spread.