by Doug Farren
An icon appeared on Tom’s HUD warning him that his power reserves were getting low. Ignoring it, he pulled as hard as he could and began dragging Lashpa’s limp body to the edge of the ramp.
“Maneuverability is severely limited,” Krish said. “The shield generator is now supporting several tons of weight and will be damaged if I apply too much acceleration. We are out of range of the base’s weapons. Two drones are attacking us and several more are approaching. I have no more missiles and secondary lasers will not penetrate their shield.”
Tom had reached the edge of the ramp. Two repair robots arrived and took over the task of carrying Lashpa to safety. The ramp began closing while Tom was still halfway to the top. Once inside the ship, he discovered that Krish had reduced the gravity to just enough to keep him stuck to the deck.
“Krish, how fast can you cycle the shield?” Tom asked, following the robots through the ship.
“One point three six seconds.”
“Drop the shield and accelerate at maximum. Raise the shield again if they can keep up.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Orion,” Tom said. “How fast can you get here?”
“Eight minutes,” the Orion’s AI instantly replied.
“Do it.”
“Acknowledged.”
The robots paused for a moment as the ship executed the maneuver Tom had ordered. Even though the ship had the ability to counteract a significant amount of acceleration, he was still pulled to one side as Krish applied a sudden burst of acceleration. Tom had to grab the edge of the doorway to steady himself. The multi-ton clod of dirt, grass, and downed trees that had been sliced off by the shield fell to the ground creating a rain of mud stretching over a wide swath.
“The drones are unable to match our acceleration,” Krish reported. “Setting course for the fleet.”
Tom watched as Lashpa’s limp body was carefully placed inside the medbot. The machine’s clamshell closed and began analyzing her injuries.
“How bad is she?”
“She’s in critical condition,” Krish replied. “There is extensive damage to many internal organs. My first priority will be to stop as much of the internal bleeding as possible. You also require medical attention.”
“Forget about me!” Tom replied. “Focus your attention on her.”
“I am capable of performing many simultaneous tasks,” Krish calmly replied. “There is nothing you can do for her at this time and I must insist that you allow me to treat your wounds.”
Tom leaned over the medbot and looked at Lashpa. He laid a hand on the transparent cover. “Hang in there.”
“Incoming message from Admiral Shurvith.”
Tom sat down on a nearby exam table. “Connect me.”
Admiral Shurvith’s image appeared, floating in front of Tom like a ghost. “What is it Admiral?”
“I have been appraised of Peacekeeper Krish’s condition,” the Admiral began. “Our best medical team is standing by. I thought you might like to know the results of our attack.”
Tom’s long familiarity with Rouldians allowed him to read the Admiral’s body language as clearly as he could read that of a Terran. “He’s not dead, is he?”
One of the robots was closely examining Tom’s shoulder.
“This is going to sting,” Krish quietly informed him.
“Not a single missile made it the target,” Admiral Shurvith replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. The Proprietor’s weapons apparently have the ability to be fanned out, creating a wide beam of incredible power. Unshielded missiles were instantly vaporized. Shielded missiles were destroyed almost as quickly.”
Tom felt a sharp pain as the robot sprayed a quick-setting gel over the point where his right arm had once been connected.
“Options?”
“We’re discussing them now.”
“I want that ship destroyed,” Tom said, barely keeping his anger in check. “I’ll be there soon and you’d better have a way to do it. Wilks out.”
“I have applied a gel bandage,” Krish said, as the image of Admiral vanished. “The neural interface is damaged and you will require surgery.”
“Later,” Tom said, getting up.
The robot moved to block his way. It was holding something in its hand. “You are dehydrated and in need of food. Drink this,” Krish ordered him.
Tom grabbed the drink and walked back over to the medbot. He could see several tiny robotic arms moving over the back half of Lashpa’s bloody body. The laser had cut her open from a point just above and in front of her rear legs all the way down to the end of her belly. He glanced at the display. Most of the indicators were flashing red.
Fighting back his tears, he asked, “How’s she doing?” Before Krish could answer, Tom noticed that the graph of her body temperature was falling—rapidly. “Her temperature is falling! What’s wrong?”
“I am reducing her temperature,” Krish replied. “This will trigger her body to enter a state of protective hibernation.”
“Tom,” a new voice spoke to him through his cybernetic ears—it was Orion. “We will be docking with the Tharveth in a few minutes. Please allow Krish to work on stabilizing Lashpa. There’s nothing you can do to help. You should get cleaned up before presenting yourself to Admiral Shurvith.”
Tom looked down at himself and for the first time realized that he was covered in drying mud. The normally pristine deck was filthy with mud, grass, and leaves all mixed with both his and Lashpa’s blood.
After taking one more look at Lashpa, Tom headed for the guest stateroom which was set up to accommodate his Terran physiology. The door refused to open.
“The compartment is exposed to space,” Krish informed him. “Lashpa’s stateroom is available.”
Tom turned around and keyed the door. Walking into her stateroom was like walking into another world. The entire wall directly across from the door had once been covered by a beautiful country scene made up of tiny plants. It had taken Lashpa years of careful cultivation and constant attention to shape them into one of the most beautiful works of living art Tom had ever seen. Most of it was now a jumbled mess of dying plants laying on the floor.
Looking down, he saw that the floor, his gift to her, was still alive and thriving. Several patches of the grass had been gouged out be a heavy chair that had been flung across the room when the ship crashed into the ground but the vast majority of it was intact. Tom bent down and ran his hand through the dense grass. The air smelled fresh and clean as if he was standing in the park where he and Lashpa had spent so much time together while at the Peacekeeper Academy.
His vision blurred as the tears began to flow. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from crying. He remained that way, crouched on the floor, sobbing for over a minute until anger took control. Standing up, he made his way to the bathroom and stepped under the shower. Although it was designed to be used by Rouldians, the hard streams of water washed away the mud, blood, and tears.
Most peacekeepers had no need of clothing. Their legs, arms, and other appendages such as a tail were fully cybernetic and covered in a thin layer of tough, black armor. The rest of Tom’s body was protected by removable armor plates. The fact that they no longer required clothing took some getting used to.
“Lashpa is stable but is still in critical condition,” Orion told him, speaking through his implants. “She is being moved to the Tharveth’s medical ward for emergency surgery. An Omel medical ship has been dispatched.”
Tom turned off the water. Jets of warm air began blowing him dry.
“How long before it gets here?”
“A little over 21 days.”
“Alert the Dragon. Tell Captain Scarboro I want him to take Lashpa to the Omel ship as soon as she can be transferred. The Dragon can get her there much faster.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Tell Admiral Shurvith I want to see him in his stateroom in five minutes and he’d better have a plan to destroy that ship.�
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“The Admiral’s plan was solid,” Orion replied. “He’s not to blame for the fleet’s failure to destroy Breetak’s ship.”
“I’m aware of that,” Tom replied, stepping out of the bathroom. “But I charged him with destroying the base and I will hold him accountable if he fails to do so.”
“Admiral Shurvith is a fine officer with an exemplary record. Do not let anger cloud your judgment—it’s unbecoming of a peacekeeper. Lashpa would not approve.”
Tom felt his anger rising. He was just about to tell the ship exactly where it could go when he saw himself in a mirror. His exterior armor was scratched and dented. His right arm was missing and the point where it was once connected was sealed with a mass of white-colored jelly. The look on his face was of someone looking for a fight; for revenge. It was not the face of a peacekeeper.
Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stood there for a moment, then said. “You’re right. Lashpa would not approve. Please tell Admiral Shurvith that I would like to meet with him and his senior staff in his main conference room as soon as possible to discuss how we are going to proceed.”
“The Admiral is standing by in the conference room.”
“Keep a close eye on Lashpa’s surgery,” Tom said. “Inform me if there are any changes in her condition.”
“Acknowledged.”
Tom took one last look at himself then turned and walked away.
Chapter 28
The first thing Tom noticed was that the Tharveth’s gravity had been reduced. A Rouldian marine in full dress uniform was standing at attention just outside the airlock.
“Please follow me,” the Marine said.
Four Rouldians were seated around the conference table when Tom entered the room. All stood up and dipped their head. Their tails were flat on the deck, unmoving.
“Every person in this room, every person on this ship, and every person in the fleet are praying for you, Krishtom Lashwilks,” Admiral Shurvith began. The name he used was that of Tom and Lashpa’s chosen combined name. The fact that he had been addressed by that name deeply touched Tom.
“Thank you,” he replied, dipping his head. “Please, have a seat.”
A Terran chair had been manufactured and placed at the table. Tom pulled it out and sat down as the others settled into their Rouldian equivalents.
“I would like to convey our deepest thanks for rescuing us,” Captain Eshif said. “We are in your debt.”
“No debt has been incurred,” Tom replied.
“I would like to summarize the results of our attack on the Proprietor’s base,” Admiral Shurvith said.
“Proceed.”
“Twenty micro-drones were deployed by five probes that led the attack. The drones were programmed to immediately drop to as low an altitude as possible while remaining in visual range of the base. Most of what we know was gathered by these drones. Tactical officer Churum, please present the results of your analysis of the data.”
A female Rouldian stood up as the lights dimmed. A tactical display of the base and the surrounding area appeared in the air over the center of the table.
“We have identified 38 heavy weapons protecting the base.” Thirty-eight small red dots appeared on the display. Eight of them began pulsing. “Eight guns, all located at the same elevation around the top of the mountain, are believed to be powered by Breetak’s ship. I believe they are all FTL-enhanced proton/anti-proton beam weapons capable of delivering over 30 terajoules of energy.”
Tom jaw went slack as the impact of that statement sent chills down his spine. “What the hell is powering those weapons?” he asked.
“We’re not sure. Our best guess is some type of matter/antimatter reactor.” The other red dots began pulsing. “These weapons are mounted on the tanks you reported being deployed. They are also proton/anti-proton beam weapons but they do not appear to be FTL-enhanced. They are capable of delivering nearly a terajoule of energy.”
“That kind of firepower would have shredded the fleet,” Tom said. “Even the Dragon’s Kyrra shield couldn’t have stopped that much power.”
“Agreed.”
“The firepower itself is impressive,” Admiral Shurvith said. “But how Breetak was able to deploy it is even more amazing.”
“All of these weapons,” Churum continued, waving her arm at the display. “Appear to be able to spread the beam out by 11 degrees. Given the beam’s power density and the fact that it’s a continuous rather than pulsed weapon, allowed Breetak to simply sweep the sky clear of all targets.”
“We didn’t stand a chance,” Tom said.
“No,” Admiral Shurvith replied. “A direct assault by any fleet of any size is doomed to fail.”
“How about an asteroid?” Tom asked.
“Even though its use has been banned by the Alliance Grand Council,” Churum replied, “it would most likely fail. It would take a considerable amount of time to outfit an asteroid with a propulsion and guidance system and even longer to alter its orbit. It would have to be a nearly direct strike to destroy the ship and the calculations involved to achieve such precision are exceedingly complex. There’s also a good chance that Breetak’s ship would have the ability to use a tractor or a repulsor beam to change the asteroid’s trajectory.”
“There is, however, another option,” Admiral Shurvith said.
Tom’s head snapped around. “And that is?”
“The Alliance, specifically, the Rouldian military, has been developing a new weapon—a relativistic kinetic energy weapon.”
Tom’s head dropped. “Such weapons aren’t new. The Lamaltans have built entire ships around gravitic railguns. They were effective but not very accurate—that’s why they stopped producing them.”
“This version is different,” Churum replied, her tail snaking along the floor. “It’s a modified Mishpa-class interceptor. The Mishpas are outfitted with ultra-precise guidance and navigational systems. Their mass is known to within a fraction of a percent and they are the only ship in the Alliance capable of knowing exactly what their relative velocity will be when they drop out of stardrive. Their software has been adapted to allow it to compensate for the effect of traveling at relativistic speeds and can precisely strike a target at the extreme range needed for the ship to reach a significant portion of light speed.”
“Because it’s a precision weapon designed to destroy fixed targets,” Admiral Shurvith explained, “We believe it does not violate the ban against large-scale kinetic energy weapons such as asteroids.”
“It’s also,” Churum added, “the only ship capable of hitting a small target with the required precision. When dealing with relativistic motion, even a tiny fraction of a percent off in any of the variables such as mass, acceleration, and bearing would result in a large error. Any ship can make a spectacular impact, but only a Mishpa-class interceptor can hit a small target on a rotating planet.”
Tom nodded his head. “What kind of yield are we talking about?”
“That depends upon the ship’s terminal velocity,” Churum replied. “Given the sophistication of the guidance system we are developing, the ship can adjust it’s speed to achieve anything from several kilotons to over two gigatons of equivalent yield.”
“And the Council has agreed to this?”
“Not exactly,” the Admiral replied. “The Council is still undecided if such a weapon is a violation of current law banning the use of extinction-level weapons. We’ve asked for a special ruling allowing us to use these ships against the Proprietor. Two prototypes are en route. They won’t be here for at least a month though.”
“We can’t wait that long,” Tom said. “Breetak is developing a way to regain control of his ship. Right now, he’s a stationary target. Computer! Show me a list of all ships in the fleet as well as their type and crew compliment.”
The tactical image of Breetak’s base vanished and a list of every ship in the fleet appeared on the room’s monitors. Tom got up, walked over to one of the di
splays, and ran his finger down the list.
“Computer, contact the Captains of the Cantorish, the Bythren, and the Fe’Tunk. I want to speak to them immediately.”
“What are you planning to do?” Admiral Shurvith asked.
“Those ships don’t have the necessary equipment or software to target anything more than the planet itself!” Churum argued. “You’ll be lucky to hit- - -”
Tom whirled around and faced Churum. “Then you’ll just have to figure out a way to adapt their systems to at least give us a fighting chance of taking out that ship. That’s why we’re going to use three ships. I’m not taking any chances.”
Admiral Shurvith put a hand on Churum’s shoulder. “The Bythren is less than a year old. May I suggest the Hurgth instead. It’s basically the same class ship but significantly older.”
“Agreed. Computer, cancel Bythren and substitute Hurgth.”
Tom waited until all three captains were connected then said, “It has been determined that the Proprietor is an imminent threat to the Alliance. His base and the ship within it must be destroyed at all cost. As a direct representative of the Alliance Grand Council, I am ordering you to immediately abandon your ships so they may be used as weapons.”
Turning his head slightly, Tom said, “Admiral Shurvith. You are hereby ordered to use all available shuttles to abandon the three ships I have designated so they may be used as relativistic kinetic energy weapons to destroy the base on L103-021.”
The Admiral looked at Tom for a moment, his tail flicking in the air. Turning to the three captains, he said, “Carry out the peacekeeper’s orders.”
There was a chorus of acknowledgments as the three ship captains severed their individual communication links.
Turning to Captain Harth, the Admiral said, “Captain, order the fleet to launch every available shuttle and prepare to receive the crew of the Hurgth, Cantorish, and the Fe-Tunk.”