Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3)

by B. V. Larson

  “When you’re done?” I asked. “Your ships are barely operational. It will be all you can do to exit this breach together and escape this gravitational anomaly.”

  “Yes, you ensnared us masterfully,” she admitted. “But my mission is to capture or destroy Defiant. I will not stop until I’ve done so.”

  “What?” I demanded, outraged. “I’ve just saved all your lives. Are you so ungrateful?”

  “Your insults are unwarranted. Your folly has increased my odds of success, and yes, I am grateful for that.”

  My hand came up and rubbed at my temples. Betas were among the most stubborn beings I’d ever encountered. If the truth were to be told, it was easier to make a deal with a Stroj.

  I looked back to the screen and the huge female, now on all fours, stared with her head lowered like a wild predator.

  “Be it not said,” she continued, her voice gaining strength, “that the Beta people are unjust. I will give you this warning: the first systems we’ve been repairing are not those that aid in propulsion or navigation.”

  With that, the screen went dark.

  “What a monster,” Yamada said. “I can’t believe the Betas could be so evil.”

  “Well, they did warn us,” Rumbold said. “Permission to get out of her reach, Captain?”

  I thought about it for a moment, but I couldn’t come up with another diplomatic ploy to attempt.

  “All right,” I said at last. “Get us out of here, Rumbold.”

  “What do you mean—out of her reach?” Yamada asked.

  He gave a rumbling chuckle, and zoomed in visually on Okto’s ship. There, we saw the last variant crawling laboriously across the hull.

  As he approached the nose of the vessel he was traversing, a point-defense cannon rose up and swiveled. The gun chattered, spitting out a hundred pulses of particles.

  We couldn’t hear it, but we could see it. The variant was blasted apart.

  Yamada stared in disbelief.

  “What she meant,” Rumbold said, “when she gave us that warning, was that they were working on their weapons systems before their engines. They mean to blow us from the skies.”

  “That’s insane,” she said, “but if they’re so determined to kill us, why did she warn you?”

  She looked at me, and I shrugged.

  “Perhaps there’s a shred of human decency in the Betas still, despite everything,” I suggested. “It’s the only answer I can come up with.”

  “Well… I guess it’s a start,” Yamada said. “But I’d hardly call this a diplomatic coup.”

  “Nor would I.”

  Rumbold laughed, and his laugh turned into a cackle. Applying steady thrust, he swung us around and headed for the far end of the bridge. Behind us, we left three crawling, disabled warships.

  But I knew the Betas wouldn’t take long to recover. Their home world had a gravitational standard nearly twice that of Earth. They could work in three Gs. Only the fact they’d been cast into a spin had kept them helpless. Now that they weren’t spinning, they could at least crawl to their posts. Eventually, they’d escape this bridge.

  They’d first get their weapons and drives working over the next day or two. If we let them, they’d blast us to fragments. We had to flee—either that, or destroy them. I didn’t want to do that if only to make K-19’s sacrifice worthwhile.

  As we powered away from the Beta ships, I wondered if I’d managed to make an impression on Okto at all. I must have, to some degree, or she wouldn’t have warned me about an impending attack.

  Perhaps that was the way of her people. Officially, she had to destroy me. She had to appear nothing but menacing. But unofficially, she could let me slip from her grasp this one time.

  That wasn’t exactly a formula for a loving relationship, but it was the best I’d ever gotten from her people. I supposed I was just going to have to take it and hope for the best.

  We flew on to the end of the bridge quickly. It was small, artificial, and newly made. When we reached the terminus, we found the way out and punched through.

  When we came out, I stared at our surroundings in open-mouthed shock.

  Somehow, I’d honestly expected to see Earth. I’d been informed this bridge would lead to the Solar System, that the bridge-projector had been used for that purpose on any number of previous missions.

  But this wasn’t the Solar System. Every detail was wrong.

  The star in the center was singular, but it wasn’t a G-class yellow sun. It was an F-class white star, hotter and somewhat larger than the star our Earth circled.

  “Where are we?” I demanded.

  “I have no idea, Captain,” Durris said, baffled. “I’m just absorbing data now. Our navigational computers haven’t placed us yet, but I’m sure they will. What I am picking up is a lot of traffic, and—sir?”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a battle going on in this system. I’m sure of it. There are hot streaks of radiation, derelict ships by the hundreds… There are missiles, flocks of them, flying this way and that among the inner planets. And that’s not all—”

  “Hold on a moment,” I said, baring my teeth in anger. I contacted Lieutenant Morris.

  “What’s up, Captain?”

  “Morris, get down to the brig. Put Lorn in irons and bring him up to the command deck under heavy guard.”

  “With pleasure, sir!” Morris said, and he was gone.

  Looking back at Durris, I sucked in a breath angrily.

  “What’s your best guess?” I asked him.

  “As to where we are…?” he asked, studying the charts. “I think this is the Stroj home system, sir. That’s where I’d put my money. Where else would Lorn trick us into taking him?”

  “That’s what I think, too,” I said through gritted teeth. “That’s exactly what he’d do. But how did he manage it?”

  -49-

  Lorn was reluctant to answer my summons. He gave my security people quite a scare, threatening to blow himself up and kicking savagely with his newly patched-together legs.

  “Here he is, Captain,” Morris said, hauling the fuming creature onto the command deck. He threw Lorn down on his face. This was easily done as his arms were bound behind his back.

  “You weakling savages!” Lorn howled. “At least have the decency to switch off that infernal stasis device, Sparhawk!”

  He was referring to the machine we used with all captured Stroj. As a matter of standard practice, each Stroj citizen contained a powerful explosive within their bodies. It wasn’t enough to knock down a building, but the charge was sufficient to kill anyone nearby.

  To prevent this unpleasant possibility, we kept a machine nearby that generated a containment field to prevent the reaction. A marine accompanying Morris had one with him as they stepped onto the deck.

  “Leave the device here, and secure him to the railing.”

  “Face down?” Morris asked hopefully. He was panting a bit from exertion. Lorn had forced them to drag his heavy frame.

  “No, thank you. I need to talk to Lorn—not the back of his head.”

  Morris roughly secured the prisoner in a sitting position on the deck. I made no complaint. I was sure that whatever indignities Lorn had suffered, he’d more than deserved them all.

  When Morris retreated, Lorn leaned toward me, growling.

  “You have to discipline that man, Sparhawk. He’s unprincipled. An animal in human skin.”

  For some reason, these accusations amused me. Perhaps it was because Lorn seemed to be describing himself.

  “We rescued you, Lorn,” I said, “and our repayment is this? Deceit, followed by threats and resistance?”

  “It’s the job of any prisoner of war to escape his captors. I owe you nothing.”

  “Nothing but your life.”

  “Fine! Then let me end it! Turn off that machine!”

  I pretended to consider it.

  “Durris,” I called. “Is that emergency hatch still serviceable? The o
ne that leads from the command deck directly to space?”

  “Yes sir,” he said. “There’s not much room in there. It’s more of a garbage chute.”

  “Just so. If we were to pressurize the tube, would opening the far end outside the hull eject the contents?”

  Durris shrugged. “That’s how it works, Captain.”

  I turned toward Lorn and made a welcoming gesture, suggesting he could climb into the garbage chute.

  “Is that what you offer me?” he demanded. “To be jettisoned like refuse?”

  “You said you wanted a way out. Here, I’m offering you your heart’s desire.”

  He made a rude sound with his lips and turned away from me, straining against his bonds.

  What he really wanted was a chance to escape alive, or to blow himself up in a glorious fashion. Taking out a few of us would satisfy his need for an honorable ending if he were given the opportunity.

  “Let’s talk about something else then, shall we?” I asked. “It’s dawned on us that we’re not anywhere near Earth. In fact, we appear to be in the Stroj home system.”

  “Of course.”

  I blinked at his frank admission. “You’re not even going to feign surprise?”

  “Not at all. We entered the artificial bridge without any identification transmissions or navigational data. The computers naturally sent us to the default destination.”

  “Which is the Stroj system?”

  “You’re a quick one. Everyone says it.”

  He was beginning to irritate me, but I did my best to keep calm. He probably was seeking a harsh reaction. He’d certainly gotten it out of Morris.

  Thinking about his words, I felt a suspicion growing in my mind. Why would Lorn be so accommodating one moment, but turn into a determined enemy when we reached his home?

  Could it be he was preparing to reunite with his people? They wouldn’t go easy on a turncoat, but a Stroj who spat and howled at his captors was something else. A Stroj who’d tricked an Earth ship to come into the lion’s den—such a Stroj would be celebrated as a hero.

  That line of thought gave me an idea.

  Lorn watched my face as I considered what I should do with him. “You’re scheming, Sparhawk,” he said. “You shouldn’t bother. It’s not your strength. In fact, it’s probably your greatest weakness.”

  “Lorn,” I said in a conversational tone, “what if I were to make you an honorary member of Star Guard?”

  He paused. His chin dropped a fraction, leaving his mouth hanging open.

  “What?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s within my power to do things like that on an emergency basis. The status wouldn’t be official unless we returned to Earth, of course, but we would issue you a uniform and rank insignia.”

  “By no means!” he shouted at me. “I won’t wear it!”

  “You will,” I said, “even if we have to drug you and strap you into a wrap of blue smart-cloth. Drooling and smiling like a happy idiot, you’ll be in the background of my first transmission to your people. It’s making me feel proud just to think of it.”

  “You wouldn’t dare, Sparhawk! Not after all I’ve done for you.”

  My laughter came out irrepressibly then, and it had a bitter note to it. “You’ve brought us into the lion’s den as was your purpose all along.”

  “It’s not my fault!” Lorn said, his face registering desperation which I found gratifying. “Everything I said was true. That bridge projector has been used many, many times to send agents to Earth. But on this occasion, you lacked the correct identification signals. All the ships that entered were funneled here as a result. Not thinking of that was a simple oversight on my part, and I apologize for it.”

  That lifted my eyebrows up. I couldn’t recall ever having heard of a Stroj apologizing before. It could only mean that my idea of broadcasting his face in a Star Guard uniform was horrifying to him.

  The Stroj, by any measure, were an odd people. They were very conscious of social status. By itself, that fact didn’t make them strange. It was the code by which they lived. The nature of the acts which made them famous or infamous on their home planet also made them very different from the rest of humanity.

  “All right then,” I said, “can you suggest a course of action that will keep us out of Stroj hands?”

  He strained on the floor trying to lever himself around to face the forward part of the deck.

  “I can’t see anything. Are we under attack? Are Stroj dreadnoughts closing in even now?”

  After considering his question for a moment, I frowned. He apparently didn’t know about the status of his home system.

  That had me feeling a pang of pity. I was, after all, tormenting a man who was about to learn of a great horror.

  Summoning two marines, I had them lift him to his feet. We marched him—and the device that prevented his self-destruct system from working—to Durris’ tactical table.

  “What are those…?” he asked, but then he trailed off.

  The variant battleships were sweeping past the sixth world in the system, working their way inward. Every planet circling this star seemed to have some kind of habitation. They were either in the form of orbital stations or domes on the surface.

  The variants had been engaged in systematically wiping all life from each world. Doubtlessly, millions of Stroj had perished. The fourth planet in the system was the only one that was defended. Three dreadnoughts were posted there, waiting to do battle.

  “I’m sorry, Lorn,” I said. “The variants beat us to your home system. They have only four battleships left, plus the carrier, but I would assume that will be enough.”

  “They’re working their way from world to world…” he said, stunned. “They’re killing everyone. No trophies. No slaves. No treasure. Only ruin. What kind of creatures are these, Sparhawk?”

  “They must be stopped,” Vogel said.

  Lorn looked at him, and his shocked demeanor changed to that of a snarling dog.

  “You!” he shouted, and lurched toward the director.

  The marines barely caught him before he could slam into the smaller man.

  “You built these things. How dare you stand here and suggest they’re not doing your bidding!”

  “I did help make them,” Vogel admitted. “But they’re not under my control, and they’ve gone too far. Even I think they must be put down.”

  Lorn turned back to me. “What are you going to do about this, Sparhawk? Stand by out here in deep space, watching? Gloating?”

  “No,” I said, “we’re trying to formulate a plan of action.”

  “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe any of you. You’re enjoying this. You chained me up on your deck like a slave, snickering and trading grins. Now, you show me my people are dying wholesale as a final moment in your twisted sense of humor!”

  “Far from it, Lorn,” I told him. “You know me to be a man of my word. We feel we must stop these abominations if we can. They’re killing everyone indiscriminately.”

  “No they’re not! Only colonists are killed, never your kind.”

  I drew myself up and made a decision. “There’s something you should see, Lorn. In fact, it’s something that everyone aboard Defiant should see.”

  Tapping for several seconds, I brought up a vid file on the main computer. Bypassing my security precautions, I displayed it on every available screen aboard ship.

  The file played out with fateful slowness. My voice was involved, conversing with Admiral Halsey during his final moments. At the end, we all watched Halsey die at the hands of the variants.

  -50-

  For some of my crewmen, the vid came as a shock. They’d known we were concerned about the fleet. They’d even survived battle with Victory firsthand, but they’d never been clearly informed of the true nature of the disaster that had occurred.

  Lorn watched, scowling at first, but even he had to squint in concern when the variants butchered Halsey at the end.

  “
Mutiny?” he asked. “You’re asking me to believe that’s what happened?”

  “We’re not entirely sure,” I admitted, “but we are certain the variants aren’t operating under Star Guard control. They appear to have slaughtered their human crews. They’re now in the process of slaughtering all intelligent life wherever they meet it.”

  Lorn studied me. “And you think they might return to Earth and keep right on going?”

  “It’s a possibility—even likely,” I admitted.

  Immediately, his attitude shifted. His expression became thoughtful.

  “So, you have a good reason to stop the variants…” Lorn said. Gone was his rage, his childish behavior, and his desperation.

  But, one thing that remained in his demeanor was a sense of cunning calculation. That never seemed to change.

  “We do have reasons to stop them,” I agreed. “As do you. Let’s work together.”

  He eyed me with one squinting eye and a roving camera stick.

  “What can we do? This armada of yours has cleansed a dozen systems and defeated the Stroj fleet, the greatest force in the known galaxy.”

  “Durris,” I asked, calling to my first officer over my shoulder. “Have any additional ships appeared in the system?”

  “Additional ships?” he asked. “No, Captain.”

  “What ships?” Lorn demanded. “You’re claiming you’ve brought fresh support from Earth? I find that very hard to believe.”

  “No,” I said. “Not from Earth. My supporters, by my calculation, should make their appearance within the hour.”

  Lorn continued to look at me as if I were trying to trick him.

  “All right,” he said at last, “let’s assume you’ll have enough firepower to help the Stroj. If that’s true, I’d be willing to help you.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “What I need first—”

  “No,” Lorn said. “I’ll do the talking—that’s what you want, isn’t it? A Stroj mouthpiece to talk my brothers into letting us approach the home world?”

  “That’s right,” I admitted. “They must allow us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their last ships. To fight as a single, allied—”