To Hell's Heart (Crimson Worlds)

by Allan, Jay

  “The taskforce is in position, admiral.” Clyde Dawes had proven to be an excellent tactical officer for her. He’d been a bomber pilot, one of the best. But his vessel had suffered a critical malfunction in a training mission. He’d brought the crippled bomber in for a hard landing, but he’d lost his arm in the crash. At the hospital they found a genetic anomaly, a rare disorder that precluded regeneration or even sophisticated nerve graft prosthetics.

  Harmon wasn’t sure whether she’d picked Dawes for his record or because she sympathized with another broken toy. But whatever the motivation, it had proven to be the right choice. Even with a mechanical arm 150 years out of date, Clyde Dawes was one hell of a capable officer.

  “Very well, commander.” Garret had divided his fleet into two waves and put Harmon in charge of the forward units. Her orders had been to advance, drop a line of laser buoys, then pull back and prepare to launch fighters. Garret was doing the same, 500,000 kilometers back. They were creating a deep layered defense. The enemy would be under constant attack as they advanced. “Advise Commodore Kessel that I will be issuing the launch order in five minutes.” Garret had kept Captain Al’Sabat to command his wings, giving Harmon the CEL’s top pilot to lead hers. The crews were already on alert, manning their ships and waiting for the order to go.

  “Yes, admiral.” There was a short pause then: “Commodore Kessel reports all squadrons ready to launch.”

  She glanced down at the tactical screen. My God, she thought…Garret really is a genius. Harmon was considered an excellent tactician, but Augustus Garret in an admiral’s chair was like Mozart at a keyboard. There was a natural comprehension, a visualization that others lacked…that they could never understand. Genius was an overused word, but it was the only way to describe Garret.

  The enemy would enter the range of her laser buoys in about fifteen minutes. Then Kessel’s fighters would go in…just before the enemy hit Garret’s line of x-ray lasers. By the time the First Imperium ships had gotten through Garret’s fighters, and both force’s missile barrages, Compton’s fleet would be hitting them from the rear with its own fighters and missiles. If everything went according to plan, they would never have to withstand the enemy particle accelerators. There wouldn’t be a First Imperium ship left to fire one.

  Still, something was troubling her. When, she thought to herself, was the last time you saw anything go according to plan?

  “Sir, Commodore Al’Sabat is requesting permission to launch another sortie. His ships will be rearmed and ready in ten minutes.” Rourke had really proven herself to Garret. She’d been a rock during the battle, one of the best tactical officers he’d ever had. A fitting replacement for Max Harmon.

  Garret was still distracted. He’d had a scare a few minutes before when Harmon’s flagship was blasted with radiation from an antimatter warhead...one that had come way too close. Yorktown had taken considerable damage, but she was still in the fight…and Camille Harmon was still in her command chair.

  Garret frowned. He hated sending Al’Sabat’s people right back out there. He hadn’t expected it to be necessary. But then he’d planned on Compton hitting the enemy rear by now…instead of being stuck out at the X3 warp gate fighting yet another enemy task force. “Authorize the commodore to prep another attack.” He glanced at the tactical display. “And prepare the fleet to pull back 500,000 kilometers.”

  It was a clear choice. Send the fighters in or expose the capital ships to a lopsided energy weapons duel. Garret felt bad, but the cold truth was the squadrons were more expendable than the battleships. The bomber crews knew that better than anyone.

  “Order Admiral Harmon to launch a second sortie with her fighter wings as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Garret stared at the display. His forces had done well so far. The enemy was badly battered. Even without Compton’s fleet, he knew he could probably take them out before they closed and raked his ships with particle accelerator fire. It would cost him in fighters and missiles, but he knew it was the right choice.

  “Admiral Harmon has already launched a second attack, sir.”

  Garret smiled. He’d known Camille Harmon for a long time, ever since she was a captain commanding one of the ships of his task force. She had a reputation as a savage fighter, one he knew was well deserved.

  Now, he thought, let’s see if we can finish this…then Terry’s people can get back here and we can get the hell out of this system…and blow that damned warp gate behind us.

  “Launch bombers.”

  Chapter 32

  Bridge – AS Midway

  System X2

  1,500,000 Kilometers from X3 Gate

  “Joker, give me another stim.” Terrance Compton sat quietly in his command chair, trying to fight the urge to slump forward. “Make it a double dose.”

  He felt the injection, as his AI instructed the med system to give him the stimulants he’d requested. Joker would normally have at least reminded the admiral that he was well over the safe dosage, but now wasn’t the time. Compton was under enormous pressure, and Joker understood that and acted accordingly.

  “Max, get those transport shuttles launched. I want the laser buoys loaded first. We don’t have much time.” Fatigue was wearing away formality.

  The fleet had destroyed the Gargoyles, but his ships had drawn heavily on their ordnance to do it. The support task force had reloads, but it took time to transfer to the warships. Time they didn’t have.

  “Yes, sir.” Harmon had already been coordinating the rearming. He was as tired as Compton, his mind fighting hard to drive away the cloudiness. He’d just taken his own dose of stims. Without them he wouldn’t have been able to stay sharp…and now was no time to let efficiency slide.

  “And I want every ship ready for full thrust in 60 minutes.” There was a sharp edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I need no-bullshit assessments. Any ship that can’t be ready is to be evacuated.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harmon had already advised all ship captains that they were to abandon ship if they couldn’t be ready for 30g thrust on time. But he knew someone would inevitably overestimate what could be repaired in an hour. He wondered if Compton would make good on his threat to leave them behind.

  Grand Fleet was bugging out. Once everyone had transited into X1, Hofstader would blow the warp gate…and if his theories held, disable the thing for at least a few centuries. The war would be effectively over, with no known route remaining between human and First Imperium space.

  It would take about 44 hours for Compton’s fleet to reach X1 and transit. In two days the war would be over. At least that was the plan.

  “Sir, we’re receiving orders from Admiral Garret.” Harmon was reading from his display. “He is confirming our scheduled course and timing.”

  Way ahead of you, Augustus, Compton thought, a tiny smile on his face…no one wants to get out of here more than me. “Confirm that we will begin initiated thrust plan as scheduled.”

  “Signal dispatched, admiral.” Harmon’s eyes were focused on his screens. “First wave of supply shuttles launched.”

  “The first wave is going to be the only one, I’m afraid. I want those laser buoys offloaded and secured in half an hour, I don’t care if it takes every man and woman on those ships to do it.” He wanted his fleet as ready for action as possible…but nothing was stopping them from blasting for the X1 warp gate in an hour. He looked at the chronometer. No, 58 minutes.

  “What the hell is that?” Mike Jacobs stared at his screen in horror. “Is this some sort of malfunction?” It had already been a nightmare. He’d been watching First Imperium ships exit the X4 warp gate for the last 20 minutes...hundreds of them. But this…this was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

  “Scanners are functioning properly, sir.” Carp didn’t sound any better than Jacobs. He was staring at the readouts on the gargantuan vessel just as Jacobs was. “Estimated length, 18.7 kilometers, mass 4,650,000 kilograms.”

&n
bsp; “Have you confirmed that data, commander?” Jacobs sounded incredulous. He understood what he was being told, but he couldn’t quite absorb it all. A battleship with twenty times the mass of a Yorktown B? He’d never conceived of such a thing. He couldn’t begin to guess at the weaponry a ship like that mounted, especially considering the overall level of First Imperium technology.

  “Forward all incoming data to Admirals Garret and Compton.” He glared over at Carp. “I mean the instant it comes in, commander!”

  “Yes, sir. Understood.” Carp’s voice was raspy. The young officer sounded like he had to struggle to draw a deep breath. It was tension, fear. This enemy vessel was like something out of his darkest nightmares.

  The remnants of Scouting Fleet were en route to the X1 warp gate, but they were still the closest formation to the X4 gate, the first to pick up the new enemy force pouring through.

  Jacobs stared at the display. Fucking Cleret, he thought, not a word…not a bit of warning…stupid bastard probably got his entire command blown away without even getting a drone back to report. He felt the rage coursing through his body, his hands balled in pointless fists as he sat and watched doom rush into the system. He’d have cut the Europan captain’s throat if he’d been standing there, just for the sheer pleasure of watching the useless fuck bleed to death.

  The enemy fleet was moving at 0.08c. That was fast…too fast. Jacobs did a quick calculation. His ships were close enough to the X1 gate to escape…and Garret’s too. But there was no way Compton’s fleet could accelerate enough to get through the system before they were cut off. And even the combined Grand Fleet was no match for the enemy forces already in the system…and there were more still transiting. Jacobs thought of Garret and Compton, wondering what they would do, grateful that he wasn’t in command, that the decision wasn’t his to make. He couldn’t even guess at what decisions he would make in that situation.

  “Sir, Captain Mondragon requests permission to change his vector to get a close in scanner sweep of the enemy battleship. Carp’s voice sounded strange. He knew Mondragon was asking permission for a suicide mission, and he was wondering what Jacobs would say.

  Jacobs sat silently. He wanted more data…he knew Garret and Compton needed all the info he could get them. But he realized Mondragon would just throw his life and the lives of his crews away. They’d never get close enough to get useful data. Jacobs knew in his gut he would have said yes if they had any chance at all to succeed. He might have even ordered Mondragon to go. But it would be a senseless waste.

  “Advise Captain Mondragon permission is denied. He is to continue on his present bearing toward the X1 warp gate.” We’ve lost enough lives in this war, Jacobs thought…no need to throw away more for no gain.

  Jacobs knew there was nothing he could do other than report his findings up the line. This was Garret’s and Compton’s problem. He had a bad feeling about what they would be forced to do, but it was out of his hands. Michael Jacobs had never been more grateful to be powerless in his life.

  “Admiral Compton’s fleet will never make it to the X1 gate before the enemy is in range.”

  Rourke was speaking to Garret, but he was only half listening. He’d already come to that conclusion. His mind was racing, trying to think of what to do…but he knew it was fruitless. He’d already realized the only way the thing could end. He didn’t know how he could possibly bring himself to actually do what he knew had to be done.

  The forces advancing through the system were almost beyond conception. Over a thousand ships had transited, including 20 of the massive new behemoths. Now it was all clear to Garret. Their earlier victories, the successful defenses on the Line…they had awakened the wrath of a vengeful giant. Now they were looking at the true might of the First Imperium. And it was as grim as death incarnate.

  The enemy fleet was a vastly stronger force than his fleet could face…orders of magnitude beyond anything all the might of humanity could stand against. Against this vast array of First Imperium power, all the force mankind had ever mustered would be little more than a forlorn hope. It was pure mathematics…and no amount of courage, no stroke of luck, no brilliant tactic…would make the slightest difference. If that fleet transited into X1, all would be lost. His ships couldn’t outrun a First Imperium fleet…there would be no second chance to disrupt a warp gate and block off human space. And that was now the only hope.

  “Instruct Dr. Hofstader and General Cain to position the device for insertion into the X1-X2 warp gate.”

  “Yes, admiral.” Rourke’s voice was strained, somber. She didn’t envy Garret the crushing responsibility of command. She was an ambitious officer, but she never wanted to sit in Garret’s chair. She couldn’t imagine how a single man could bear so much burden.

  “The fleet will prepare to withdraw toward the warp gate.” There was no emotion in Garret’s voice. Just fatigue as deep and black as space itself.

  It was time. He could end the war in the next few hours. All he had to do was sacrifice his best friend…run and leave behind the man he’d called brother for forty years. Abandon him and his 40,000 crew to certain death.

  Garret felt cold inside, lifeless. He was on autopilot, issuing the commands, prepping the fleet for the unthinkable. Everything would be ready. But Garret had no idea how he’d bring himself to issue that final order.

  Terrance Compton sat quietly in his command chair, staring at the incoming data, but not really absorbing it. None of it mattered. Not anymore. He knew what they had to do. What Garret had to do.

  He looked around the flag bridge, watching his staff working at their stations. A few of them had figured it out for themselves. Max Harmon certainly had. His expression was somber, but he was still focused on his duties. Still, Compton could tell he knew they were doomed. Harmon was a good officer, one of the best Compton had ever seen. Most of the others were still trying to grasp the scale of the enemy fleet they faced, wondering what miracle Garret and Compton would produce to salvage things.

  Compton laughed bitterly. There is a miracle, he thought, but this one carries a high cost…one we will have to pay ourselves.

  He tried to imagine what Garret was thinking. He knew how difficult this was for his friend. In some ways, he thought, it is easier to face death than to send someone else to do it. Terrance Compton wanted to go home…he wanted to survive the war. He wanted to walk the green hills of the Academy again, looking up at the massive domes…and the beauty of space beyond. But he knew it was not to be. He’d been prepared to face death in battle for most of his life. If now is the time, he thought, I am ready…and saving all of humanity isn’t such a bad reason to die.

  There was one last thing he could do for Garret, though. He could send a message, tell his friend he understood. Try to take some of the burden off of his shoulders…deflect some of the guilt he knew would torment Garret.

  “Commander Harmon, all ships are to perform complete engine and weapons diagnostics immediately. And I want all vessels fully rearmed. I expect Admiral Garson to do wonders with the transport task force. I want this fleet 100% ready for action in two hours. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Harmon felt a surge of pride. He knew very well if Terrance Compton was going down, he was going down fighting. And he felt the same way.

  Now, Compton thought, closing his helmet and activating the com…it’s time to say goodbye to Augustus.

  “Please, General Sparks.” Jacob’s voice was raw, pleading. “You have to board the shuttle now. There’s no time left.” Jacobs’ people had evacuated the engineering crews working on the captured enemy vessel. They’d made a mighty effort to rig the ship for towing, but there just hadn’t been time. They’d have to abandon it. That was something that seemed unthinkable a few days before, but Jacobs found it hard to give a shit in light of what was happening with Admiral Compton and his people.

  The rest of Scouting Fleet’s survivors had blasted off toward the warp gate already. In another 20 minutes, they’d all
be in the X1 System. But Indianapolis had stayed behind, waiting for General Sparks and the last of his crew.

  “Ten more minutes, admiral.” Sparks was onboard the enemy ship, scavenging every portable instrument and recording anything he could for future research. Even if they managed to end the war by disrupting the warp gate, the ship offered centuries of scientific progress. Sparks wanted to salvage anything he could. It was killing him to leave it behind.

  “No, general.” Jacobs understood the engineer’s devotion to his work. But they were out of time. “We have to leave. I need you on that shuttle immediately.”

  Jacobs was close to sending his Marines to drag Thomas Sparks to the shuttle. He and Sparks were of equivalent rank, and they were in space, which made him the superior…but he wasn’t sure his Marine detachments would follow an admiral’s order to arrest a Corps general.

  There was a pause. “Very well, admiral.” Sparks’ voice was distracted. “We will be in the shuttle in 3 minutes. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Yes, general. That will be perfectly fine.” He turned toward Carp. “Prepare a thrust plan to take us directly through the gate. We’ll be accelerating at full thrust.” That meant being stuck in the couches, but Jacobs wanted to get the hell out of this accursed system as quickly as possible. “We’ll be executing as soon as General Sparks’ people are secured aboard.”

  “Incoming message from Admiral Compton. It’s marked for your eyes only, sir.” Rourke’s voice was shaky. Everyone knew what was happening, and just the thought of Compton was enough to bring a veteran spacer to tears.