by Allan, Jay
He wasn’t sure why Alex was coming back to Earth, but he resolved to be careful. She’s probably just running, he thought, or coming home because she was lost and confused. But only a fool would disregard Alex Linden. If she’d turned on him, she would be a dangerous enemy. He’d have to play this one very carefully. He’d always known he’d have to dispose of Alex sooner or later. She was too smart, too capable, too ambitious. In the end, two predators like them could never co-exist. There was only one top spot, and both of them wanted it. No, though he knew he’d miss her, he’d decided long ago that Alex Linden had an expiration date. But he’d hoped to retain the use of her services for a while longer, as an agent…and in more enjoyable ways too. Now, he wasn’t sure. He might have to move up the timetable and terminate her sooner than expected. He’d have to wait until she got back to Earth, until he had a chance to see her…and decide if she was salvageable.
He didn’t need this now. He was about to launch Shadow, and once he pulled the trigger on that there was no turning back. The operation would consume him, he knew that much for sure. Alex knew nothing about Shadow. She was far too intelligent and competent for him to have trusted with that information. Stark had been careful to include only operatives who lacked the initiative and capacity for independent action, individuals he was sure he could control.
He’d hoped Alex could manage most of Alliance Intelligence’s other ongoing operations, many of which, unbeknownst to those involved, provided cover for Shadow. Now he wasn’t sure. He wondered…could Alex be useful for a while longer?
Stark sighed loudly. He’d know about Alex soon enough. Her ship would reach Earth in three weeks, and he’d have an escort waiting for her at the spaceport. She might come in by herself, but Stark wasn’t going to chance it. He couldn’t imagine how many identities she had on Earth, how many secret caches of money and weapons. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t have resources he knew nothing about. No, letting Alex disappear into the dark recesses of the Washbalt Metroplex wasn’t an option. He had to see her as soon as she arrived. Anything else was too risky.
He had no idea what would happen at their conference, no thought as to what to expect. He’d either satisfy himself that Alex was still a reliable asset, and no threat to Shadow or himself…or Alex Linden would never leave that meeting.
Chapter 10
Bridge – AS Indianapolis
Approaching the Sigma 4 Warp Gate
Eight Transits from Newton
Jacobs stared at the main screen as Indianapolis held its position 80,000 kilometers from the warp gate. He knew only too well what lay on the other side of that portal…he was one of the few humans who had ever been there. When Hornet had entered the system well over a year before, it emerged into a beehive of enemy activity. Jacobs knew a lot of those hostile vessels his ship had detected back then later ended up fighting in the Line battles. Many of those didn’t return, having been destroyed in the combats at Sandoval, Garrison, and Samvar. But Jacobs had no idea what forces the enemy had remaining on the other side of the gate, or what reserves they may have brought forward. For all he knew, every vessel the enemy had was waiting just on the other side, ready to ambush any forces that transited.
Captain Mondragon’s people were about to become the first to find out. His 42 ships were in formation, approaching the warp gate at a blistering 0.08c. Once through, they would divide into squadrons, some accelerating further, trying to blast straight through to find any warp gates on the far side, others braking hard, changing vectors to scatter and explore the system. It was a dangerous plan, almost foolhardy, Jacobs thought. But he’d ordered it anyway. It was the only way to quickly get the kind of data Garret and the fleet needed. Jacobs and his entire force were expendable if that’s what it took to get the fleet the intel it needed to defeat the First Imperium. No one had said that, not exactly, but Jacobs knew it was true.
He hadn’t run into another major force since Newton, but there had been smaller enemy patrols in nearly every system. With the First Imperium’s dark energy communications, he had to assume they’d fully apprised the forces farther up the line. Surprise was now a virtual impossibility, so he decided to blanket the system with fast-moving scouts, replacing stealth with speed and numbers. He’d probably lose a lot of those ships, maybe even most. But they’d get the intel he needed. And there was no time to waste. Terrance Compton was moving forward with half of Grand Fleet, and he’d reach Jacobs’ position in less than a week…and he’d need to know what he would face when he got there.
Jacobs’ stomach was tight. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, and the anxiety had only gotten worse since then. He felt like a man who’d escaped from hell and then chosen to return. There was sweat on his neck, and he could feel the heat around his ears and shoulders. The bridge and his survival suit were both set to room temperature, but the droplets began running down his back anyway. He knew what it was, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself. It was fear.
Carp was the only other member of Scouting Fleet’s crew that had been to this place before. He’d been mostly silent for the last few hours, speaking only enough to deliver the bare minimum of reports to Jacobs. The admiral hadn’t asked much of his tactical officer, giving him room to handle the fear in his own way. In the first year or two of the war, the human ground forces had found it difficult to face the enemy. Even veteran units wavered before an adversary that didn’t feel pain, didn’t feel fear…that would fight to the last without doubt or fatigue. Jacobs felt that way now…and he suspected Carp did as well. Defending your home was one thing, but moving forward, lightyears from the furthest reaches of mankind’s dominion, was a chilling enterprise. Jacobs felt alone, overwhelmed…like floating in deep water in the dark, desperately trying to stay afloat, to maintain his focus.
“Sir, Captain Mondragon sends his regards.” Carp’s voice was soft, and he spoke slowly and deliberately. “He advises his lead vessels will be transiting in three minutes.”
“Very well, commander. Please give Captain…” Jacobs stopped, pausing for an instant. “Please get Captain Mondragon on my com.” The least you can do, he thought to himself, is wish the man luck personally…in all likelihood you’re sending him to his death.
“I have Captain Mondragon for you, sir.”
“Francisco…” Jacobs spoke loudly, his voice commanding, reassuring. He wasn’t sure how he was managing it, but he did. “…I wanted to wish you and your people the best of luck. Your courage is an inspiration to the entire fleet.” He thought he was finished, but a few seconds later he added, “We’ll be coming through in a day, but if you need backup, get a probe back to us, and I’ll bring the fleet through right away.” An empty gesture, he knew. Mondragon’s ships would be blasting directly into the system at almost 10% of lightspeed. Any probe would have to exert enough thrust to decelerate to a stop and re-accelerate back toward the warp gate. By that time, it would be far too late for any reinforcements to matter. No, Mondragon and his people were on their own…at least for a day. And even when the fleet followed, the advanced scouts would be millions of kilometers from the gate, far from any support.
The signal traveled 3 light seconds to Mondragon’s ship, and his response took another 3 seconds to reach Indianapolis. “Thank you, admiral. It is our great honor to undertake this mission. I give you my word, my people will do what is necessary to secure the data the fleet needs.” There was a short pause, then: “Until tomorrow, admiral.”
Jacobs leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was really beginning to like Mondragon, and he knew he’d miss the gruff stocky Basque if he didn’t make it. Sending those ships through was making him physically sick. He’d never had to order anyone to undertake such a hopeless mission before. His people on Hornet had been in grievous danger every moment from the original attack on Adelaide until they made their way back to human space, but Jacobs had been right there; he’d shared their hazards. This was the first time he’d sent his
people into danger while he stood back and watched…and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
He opened his eyes and stared at the monitor, grimly watching Mondragon’s ships vanish one by one as they went through the warp gate…and into the maw of the enemy.
“We’ve confirmed it three times, sir.” Tomasino turned to face Mondragon as he repeated himself. “We have data in from 38 out of 42 task force units. Only 21 enemy vessels have been detected, all positioned within 500,000 kilometers of the base.”
Mondragon stared back, his normally impassive face betraying his shock. He’d expected to find a massive battlefleet, not a few miscellaneous ships. It looked like a trap. It felt like a trap. There were many places in a solar system ships could hide from cursory scans, waiting to fire up their reactors and attack at the right moment. Perhaps there was a fleet of First Imperium Leviathans lurking in the outer system, lying dormant the way the force at Newton had. But Mondragon didn’t think so. It was just a feeling, one he couldn’t explain, but his gut was telling him the small force of ships his people had detected was all that was posted at Sigma 4.
Faucon was decelerating at 3g, low enough thrust to allow its crew to function close to 100% efficiency, albeit with some discomfort. She was moving quickly, though, the modest output of her engines barely slowing the 0.08c velocity she’d had when she entered the system. His other ships had scattered, some accelerating, some decelerating, others changing their vectors. The task force was performing a massive scanner sweep, covering the whole system, trying to find any hidden enemy presence. Even with 42 ships, meticulously searching an entire star system was a daunting task, but Mondragon was determined. If there was so much as an enemy robot out there ready to throw a rock at his people, they were going to find it.
“Direct 9th and 20th Squadrons to search the asteroid belt. Maximum dispersion so they can cover it as quickly as possible.” Quickly was a relative term. Interstellar travel made interplanetary space seem small by comparison, but a solar system was still vast in scope. A spaceship crawling around conducting scans was like a speck of dust. It would take weeks to conduct a true search of Sigma 4, and months to finish a really comprehensive scan. All Mondragon’s people could do was start with the likeliest locations and work down the list.
“And 13th and 33rd Squadrons are to advance at full thrust to the outer debris fields and begin a systematic sensor sweep.” Deep in the outer system was the easiest place to hide a force, but it was also far from the base on Sigma 4 II…a tough place to stage an ambush on a fleet attacking the planet. Still, he had to check it out. He couldn’t assume anything.
“I want 11th and 14th Squadrons to check out the possible warp gate location.” Preliminary scans had shown one likely spot for a second warp gate in the system, but it couldn’t be confirmed without closer inspection. “I want a definite ID here, no guesswork.” Mondragon knew there were at least two warp gates in the system…the one his people had come through, and one – or more – leading deeper into the First Imperium. Mapping the system and finding the entry points was crucial…before all of Grand Fleet arrived and got blindsided by an enemy force coming through an undiscovered warp gate.
“Yes, captain.” Tomasino hunched over the controls and relayed Mondragon’s orders. He turned back toward the command chair. “Captains Garcia and Leclerc confirm, sir.”
Mondragon nodded. “Instruct them to send a ship through immediately upon confirming the gate location. I want a preliminary report on the connecting system as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to look at the display, frowning as he usually did at the partial obstructions in his field of vision. Faucon’s bridge was a tight space, with a normal complement of five officers, including the captain. They’d crammed in two extra chairs to turn her into a flagship, an accommodation that made things extremely cozy for Mondragon and his staff. His own command chair ended up behind a structural member, and he was having a hard time getting used to it. Attack ships not attached to battlegroups had traditionally been deployed individually or in small HK squadrons. A 3 or 4 vessel group could be run by a senior captain doubling as squadron leader, but not one of more than 40 ships. A task force comprised entirely of attack ships was a new development, one forged in the specific realities of this war. We really need a new design, he thought, a ship big enough to serve as a flagship, but small and fast enough to keep up with the rest of the boats.
The tactical display showed the approximate location of the 42 fast attack ships in Mondragon’s task force. The screen was updated in real time, but with some of the scouts over a light hour away from the flagship, the data was outdated, especially for the ships furthest out. The AI could project current locations based on last known vectors and velocities, modified by orders and directives currently in force. But Mondragon’s captains had wide latitude on this mission, and there was no way to know exactly when and where they chose to apply thrust. Even after two and a half decades of service, he was still uncomfortable dealing with the vast distances involved in spaceship operations and the time delay effects of lightspeed communications. It always troubled him to think that the vessel we was watching on the monitor could be destroyed already, its crew dead…and he wouldn’t know for an hour or more.
“Prepare for maximum thrust, Lieutenant Tomasino.” Mondragon’s voice was loud and deliberative. He’d made a decision. “We are going to decelerate at full, commencing in five minutes.” On an Alliance ship, that five minutes would have been two. The Europan navy simply couldn’t match the levels of expertise found in the Alliance or Caliphate fleets. “I want us as close to the warp gate as possible.” He paused, then continued in a softer voice, half to himself, “At least until I can get updated orders from Admiral Jacobs.”
“Yes, sir.” Tomasino’s voice was edgy. Five minutes was tight timing for a Europan ship to get ready for full thrust.
“And prepare to launch a drone.” Mondragon was staring right at his tactical officer. “We need to tell Admiral Jacobs what we found.”
“I have a response from Admiral Compton, sir.” Carp was listening to the message on the headset as he spoke. “He reports the fleet is accelerating, and will arrive at the Sigma 4 warp gate in approximately 60 hours.”
Jacobs head spun around. They must be accelerating, and hard, he thought. Sixty hours was well ahead of the original schedule. Jacob’s people had just gotten the temporary Commnet station operating when Mondragon’s drone came through the warp gate, blasting along at almost 60g. Jacobs was stunned when he’d heard the drone’s message, and he immediately sent the data down the new Commnet lines to Compton.
Carp paused. “Sorry, sir. I’m getting this slowly.” He put his hand to his ear, pushing against the headset. “Admiral Compton’s reply is encrypted with a Zeta-1 code.” Zeta-1 was the Alliance’s most secure encoding system, and even a cruiser’s AI required time to decode it. No one had even figured out if the First Imperium forces understood human speech or communications. But Compton was clearly not in the mood to take chances.
“He advises that his current plan is to launch a lightning strike against the planet and the defending task force.” Compton had plenty of firepower to take out the enemy vessels…at least the ones they knew about. “You are ordered to leave one squadron of attack ships in Epsilon 3 and deploy the rest of the fleet to the scouting effort in Sigma 4 and any connecting systems, avoiding contact with the enemy fleet if possible.”
Jacobs sat motionless, listening to Carp relay Compton’s orders. He felt the tension in his gut, the tingling in his arms. They were going in. In less than 3 days they would be attacking a world of the First Imperium. Whatever happened, Jacobs knew it was a turning point in the war.
“You are further ordered to update the Epsilon 3 squadron every 4 hours with a consolidated report of all new scouting data.” Carp’s voice had remained steady, but Jacobs could hear the edginess there as well. His tactical officer knew what was
happening too. “He closes with a direct message for you, sir.” Carp turned to face Jacobs. “Should I send it to your com line, sir?”
Jacobs nodded. “Yes.” He subconsciously put his hand to the side of his head, checking his earpiece, making sure it was in place. “Immediately.”
Carp turned back to his station, moving his hands over one of the touchscreens. “Coming through now, sir.”
“Hello Mike.” It was Compton’s voice. Despite the massive encryption and subsequent decoding, the tone was perfect…just like Terrance Compton was standing next to him speaking into his ear. “I’m sure you’d agree, things are happening a little faster than we’d expected. That’s war, though…and especially against these SOBs. If there’s one thing we can expect, it’s the unexpected.”
Jacobs was trying not to assume too much from Compton’s tone, especially since his voice had been encrypted and decoded. The Fleet admiral was a hard book to read, but he sounded edgy, as if he’d made a decision because he had to, but was far from certain about his choice. “I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you haven’t considered, but of course I’m worried this is some sort of trap. We all expected more enemy strength in Sigma 4, which is why we’ve got every decent warship we could find en route.”
There was a pause, unusual in an encoded transmission. Compton must have hesitated, and the AI preserved the gap in the coding. “Whatever the risk, however, I don’t think we can pass up the chance to move on this. We’re out here to find an enemy weakness, and I can’t think of anything more potentially useful than seizing their base. Maybe General Sparks and his people can find something there we can use. I’ve only got half the fleet with me, but it’s still more strength than we had at any of the Line worlds.”