Valence (Confluence Book 4)

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  Ouvaq stifled a cry of fear and covered her face in her hands. Feig and Celui surrounded her, touching and grabbing. Bleh. Alan turned his back on the room and indulged in rolling his eyes.

  Brai broke in for the first time, his voice soothing. “We are exploring possibilities. Such a jump has never been documented. It is at the extreme end of what we believe could be possible. There is no need for fear.”

  Ouvaq sniffed and straightened. Brai was probably sending tranquilizing mental waves her way. More power to him on that.

  “I want complete system checks,” Jane said. Rest wasn’t an option anymore. “I’ll put together teams to inspect damage on the unmanned ships. The Decuscien and the Scholaffecti have first priority. Once we’re certain we’re secure, we’ll continue our jump sequence toward Earth. Murrrsi, before you leave your station, I want that analysis from Vendal. Everyone get to work.”

  54

  February 9, 2031

  BACK ON THE BRIDGE, it was as if they’d never left. Walsh settled back in his chair, and the fleet communication channel was reopened. A new countdown clock was posted that read twenty-seven minutes.

  Gradually, on the viewscreen, they watched the Swarm develop from abstract-looking, pixelated blobs to real, larger-than-life nightmarish monsters. Zara began to avoid looking at the viewscreen and focused on her own console as the clock ticked down to zero. It was too hard to look at them and not be possessed with paralyzing fear.

  They just were so unnatural. Their abdomens glowed bright orange from their bizarre organic drives. She wondered how they survived the heat the drives surely generated. Without air to dissipate that heat, they must have some organ or chemical reaction to compensate in order to keep them from burning alive.

  Bugs had never particularly bothered Zara. She’d never been squeamish, but there was something primal about these creatures that screamed wrongness. Maybe it was because they were organic but looked anything but.

  The countdown reached five minutes.

  Every ship reported in. The lasers were ready to go.

  Sokolov called out, “Targets within laser cannon range…now.”

  “Fire laser cannons,” Walsh said, his nostrils flaring.

  Zara translated.

  Visually, nothing happened. The movies got laser weapons wrong and she couldn’t blame them. It was more dramatic on film if they used colorful lines of light that people could see. The reality was that laser light traveled at the speed of light—faster than the human eye could perceive.

  Lasers did their damage through rapid heating with a lot of energy. They could burn through ship hulls, airplane skins, armored plate, human skin, and then anything behind or within, igniting explosives or fuel tanks, if present. The US military had just begun to use them to take down incoming artillery shells in war zones when Holloway left the database behind. The sectilian blueprints furthered human knowledge of the technology, made these new lasers more efficient and more powerful, and opened up the use of more wavelengths.

  The major downside to the use of lasers, even these efficient sectilian models, was that they generated vast amounts of heat that had to be shed between firings for safety reasons, even when outfitted with extensive cooling systems. So while the lasers cooled, Sokolov and his team gathered data on how much damage the first volley had done.

  Most pre-sectilian lasers on Earth had been in the thirty- to one-hundred-fifty-kilowatt range. The lasers on the Aegis were two hundred megawatts. Zara kept reminding herself of this power while they awaited the results.

  All eyes were on Sokolov, and he seemed agitated. He appeared to be arguing with his team. He pushed one of them out of their seat and took over their station, shaking his head, one hand gripping his short-cropped hair.

  Walsh stood. “Report, Major Sokolov.”

  Sokolov gathered himself. He stood and faced Walsh, his face blank. “Sir, we’ve recorded no appreciable damage to the targets.”

  Zara started to translate the conversation for the fleet, but Walsh swung around and pointed at her. “Cut the connection.”

  “Aye, Captain.” She did as told, translated for the bridge crew, and waited for further instruction.

  “They don’t need to listen to this. They’re seeing the same results.” He shook his head. “I want to hear some theories. How can this be possible? We’re using the same wavelength the Sectilius decided was most effective.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Rossi stood and looked at Zara. “It’s possible that’s why it’s not working now.”

  Walsh glanced from Rossi to Zara. Zara translated.

  Rossi continued, “A lot of time has passed since that database stopped accumulating new information. If the Sectilius used that tactic for a while, and a few individuals survived sectilian attacks, it may have been because those particular individuals had some advantage. If most of a pod was killed and only those with the advantage survived to reproduce, the new pod that formed around them would all have that characteristic. It’s basic evolutionary science. It’s how populations change over time. Small mutations that confer a survival advantage become dominant.”

  When Zara finished her translation of Rossi’s statement, Walsh nodded. “But what’s the advantage this pod has? How can we work around it?”

  Rossi shrugged.

  Walsh glanced around the room.

  Zara tapped her finger on her console, feeling the urge to speak but afraid she’d sound stupid. Walsh glanced at her and raised his eyebrows.

  She bit her lip. “Sir, they are awfully shiny.”

  Someone snorted.

  Zara grimaced. “No, hear me out. We know mirrors are the best defense against laser fire. Maybe this pod is more reflective. I mean, I don’t know if we can measure their albedo. I don’t remember seeing anything in the database that mentions that the Sectilius measured that characteristic, but I can look.”

  Rossi spoke up. “That’s a good working theory. If this turns out to be the case, then we need to switch wavelengths away from near infrared toward ultraviolet.”

  Walsh swung around. “Any other theories?”

  Zara took a step forward. “Sir, I have a second theory, but that one would be worse for us.”

  Walsh harrumphed. “Let’s hear it anyway.”

  Zara glanced at the screen. The glowing objects were steadily getting larger. “Their… rears are pointed at us at the moment.” She closed her eyes for a second. Couldn’t she say anything that didn’t sound childish? “What I mean is—their abdomens contain their organic drives, right? Which have to generate insane amounts of heat. They must have some very efficient method of dissipating heat in vacuum or they couldn’t survive. We’re aiming at the part of them that can probably take the most heat. Sir, if we want to kill them, I believe we’ll have to target the other end.”

  Walsh rubbed his cheek, which was bristling with white stubble. He glanced at Rossi.

  She nodded. “According to the database, most sectilian defense took place just outside of atmosphere and with ground-level weapons. If they never went out to meet the Swarm like this, they wouldn’t have encountered this problem, so it wouldn’t have been recorded.”

  “We made new problems by being more aggressive,” Compton commented.

  Walsh raised his chin. “Tactical, conference room one. Now. Hampton, you too.”

  Major Zhang stood and gestured at Zara to go first.

  55

  February 10, 2031

  WALSH MET with tactical and went over alternatives that took their current theories into consideration. Then he videoconferenced again with the leadership of the rest of the fleet. This time he didn’t give options, he gave orders.

  They would continue with the defile maneuver, but the lasers were reset from nine hundred nanometers to three hundred nanometers, a wavelength which was less susceptible to mirror defenses. They’d wait for the Swarm to pass by—to fire on their front ends, instead of their back ends. They’d be forced to hold the fighters back for now. There
wasn’t enough time to reconfigure all of their laser cannons, though crews were scrambling to do just that.

  Their position in this encounter had changed dramatically from just hours before. They were weaker against the Swarm than they’d ever anticipated. Their success seemed far less certain. With each failure, the tension on the bridge crept higher.

  Once again, the countdown clocks were reset.

  Once again, every ship checked in, verifying their readiness.

  The moment came for Zara to say, “Jiacti.”

  Then, during the cooldown period, they fired missiles again. They repeated this pattern several times.

  Sokolov hunched stiffly over his station. He glanced over at Walsh. “Damage verified, Captain.” He hesitated. “But not as much as we hoped. We’re seeing some minor course changes… and a few Confluos are clearly dead.”

  Walsh’s face went red. “Dammit! A few? I want to know exactly what made those bugs dead, Sokolov. Was it two lasers hitting them at the same time from two sides? Was it laser plus missile? Was it contact time? Don’t say another word until you know the answer.”

  Sokolov turned around and got back to work.

  Major Tinibu, a young Nigerian woman at the helm, said, “Do we continue pursuit, Captain?”

  They could match the Swarm’s velocity only as long as the Swarm didn’t deviate from its current trajectory by much. The dreadnoughts couldn’t easily change course at high rates of speed.

  “Yes. Pursue the targets. Formation Eta Tau. Power down weapons. Until we understand this data, no one fires again.” He turned to Zara. “Translate that and cut the comm for now.”

  Compton frowned. “It’s a damn good thing they’re moving too fast to turn and engage us. Those must be some angry bugs.”

  Walsh blew out a heavy breath through tight lips. “That won’t be the case for much longer. They’re slowing down and eventually they’ll turn and fight if we don’t kill them first.”

  “It was a good plan.”

  Walsh shook his head. “All that stuff in the database…it didn’t help. It’s old data. None of it applies to us, here and now. We have to treat these bugs like we don’t know a damn thing.”

  The new-new-new plan was to release all the fighters. Sokolov uploaded an animation to the fleet’s intranet and it played on the bridge of every ship while Zara translated his narration.

  He explained that it took sustained laser fire from two ships or sustained laser fire from one ship plus ballistics to kill an individual. On-screen, these options played out. Then Sokolov gave the kill stats for the last battle.

  Most of those that died had been subadults. Their dead bodies would continue to hurtle toward Earth until they were caught up in an orbit somewhere along the way. Some would surely be collected for study, but they weren’t going to be fighting, at least.

  Four down, one hundred thirty-four to go.

  At Rossi’s suggestion, thirty percent of the fighters were going to use a variety of different wavelengths. Work crews continued to retrofit them with the appropriate laser gain media, and necessary adjustments were being made. In addition, these ships were being fitted out with more-sensitive sensor arrays. They needed to know if there was a particular wavelength that was most effective.

  When everything was in place, they closed in and released the fighters. The dreadnoughts would form a cap shape behind the bugs while the cruisers continued the defile formation, and each ship was assigned specific bugs to target until it was sure they were dead. Walsh warned all the captains it might seem chaotic, but to stay calm and keep their ears on. Orders were likely to change from minute to minute.

  It went well, for a while.

  They killed nine more, all adults this time.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Thirteen bugs veered off, each in a wildly different direction, escaping the defile and swinging around to come up behind the EU fleet.

  Walsh divided the fleet. Eight ships and their fighters continued to pursue the majority of the pod toward Earth. The remainder—the Vincitore, Caballero, Bronya, and Aegis—would fight the bugs that had left the defile and were crawling up their backsides. Even minor course changes at such high speeds were stressful for everyone on board due to the sudden, intense g-forces. As her stomach was being pulled through her spine, Zara hoped they were also stressful for the Confluos.

  Each individual bug had gone off on a different vector. The Aegis was incapable of chasing them around the solar system, but the three smaller cruisers were more versatile, and Walsh used that versatility. He was clearly fearful one of the Swarm would escape to relay knowledge of human defense capabilities to another pod. He barked orders off rapidly, swinging from navigation to helm to sensors to tactical and weapons, consulting frequently with Compton, who remained close at his side, and shouting for Zara to translate.

  But now they weren’t firing on defenseless creatures.

  These were clearly experienced adults. They flipped and burned unpredictably and with apparent ease, maneuvering with a flexibility that no ship in the fleet could match. As they passed by one of the Earth United ships, they shot off bursts of plasma, possibly from their organic interstellar drives. The plasma meted out horrific damage to the Earth United ships. The bugs also landed on the ships and physically clawed and bit at them with their enormous pincer-shaped mouths, seeking any vulnerability. The ships rocked under the onslaught. Damage reports came in. The comm panels lit up with people wanting to relay urgent messages or queries.

  Zara became robotic, efficiently answering calls and making instant judgments about who to route them to. Three minutes in, the Bronya was disabled and losing air. They went critical at six and a half minutes. There was no time to get anyone off. The only survivors were their small number of fighters.

  She felt like she’d failed them somehow, though she knew that in her minor role in this event, there was no way she could have done anything to save them.

  Her heart swelled painfully, but there was no time to mourn the lost. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  The eight ships in pursuit of the main pod were still picking off individuals slowly, with painstaking precision. Then six more adults turned to fight. Walsh ordered the Paladin and the Bouclier to turn and fight them. That left ninety-nine bugs still on a trajectory toward Earth and only half of the EU ships still in pursuit of the pod at large.

  Zara and the three other communications officers struggled to handle the queries and reports from the Aegis’s fighters in addition to the communiques from the other captains.

  Then the Paladin was lost. A few people were ferried to the Bouclier on fighters, but not many. The Caballero went a few minutes later. They’d lost one-third of their ships in less than half an hour.

  The tide was turning against them.

  All Bronya fighters were reassigned to the Aegis. A blue light representing requested communication came in from one of these fighters. Zara took the call.

  “This is Captain Olivia Cote in BRO-37,” she said in Mensententia with a French accent. “My husband just died on the Bronya. I have nothing left. I’m going to mortevindahipt.” Zara took the word to basically mean kamikaze or self-sacrifice in the name of revenge, but that particular word didn’t exist. Cote had just made it up, using fragments of other Mensententic words.

  Zara felt paralyzed for a split second. Was she supposed to talk Cote out of this? She turned to the screen, but she had no idea if any of the dozens of fighters she could see was Cote. “Captain, we’ll find a way. We have time. You don’t need to do this.”

  Cote sounded calm. “I have eyes, First Lieutenant. We’re losing. Cote, over and out.”

  Zara realized that Cote had opened the channel to broadcast that exchange to every fighter in the fleet. Her hands trembled just above the console as she stared down at it. In the chaos, she hadn’t noticed until Cote cut the signal.

  She stood. “Captain!”

  Walsh glanced over his shoulder at her from where he was
hovering over the navigation console next to the nav officer.

  Zara moved between the rows of consoles until she reached Sokolov. “Where is BRO-37?”

  Sokolov looked up at her, questioning. Walsh strode over. “Show us. What is it, Hampton?”

  “The pilot in BRO-37, Captain Olivia Cote, says she is going to… kamikaze one of the Confluos, sir.”

  Sokolov said, “She’s in this sector.” The field of view zoomed in, and one of the small fighters was highlighted with a red dot. “She’s heading straight for the largest adult. She’s firing lasers. It appears she’s overridden the laser cooldown period from the cockpit, sir.”

  “Put me on with her,” Walsh said, putting a hand on Zara’s arm. “Broadcast fleet wide.”

  Zara went back to her station and tried to open a channel. She had to force herself not to pound on the touch screen in an attempt to make Cote answer. “She’s not responding, sir.”

  On-screen, the large bug swung in a wide arc, but Cote stayed steady in her pursuit.

  “BRO-37 still firing constant laser, sir,” Sokolov said. “It’s reaching critical levels.”

  “Then just broadcast. She’ll hear me.” He gestured at Sokolov. “Broadcast the tactical feed too.”

  Cote was closing in. If the bug didn’t change course again, she’d have it.

  Zara input the command. “You’re broadcasting, sir.”

  Sokolov said softly, “The feed is up, sir.”

  Walsh stood tall. “Olivia Cote, we honor you. You are a true Earth patriot. There will—”

  There was a bright flash where BRO-37 impacted the insect. Its abdomen swelled. There was another flash, larger than the first, and then the bug broke apart in glowing fragments that quickly went black, still streaming at high velocity in the direction the insect had been going. It was nothing more than space debris now.

  The bridge and all communication channels went silent.

  After a moment, Walsh spoke, his words slow and measured. “Rest in peace, Captain Olivia Cote. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”