by B. V. Larson
We tracked him a long way through the ship. I expected him to head for the center where most ships put their control rooms or bridges for maximum survivability. Only civilian cargo ships built with cost and efficiency in mind put their command personnel next to the hull. I’d spotted several of what looked like weapons, so I was confident this was a warship unless the aliens who built her had a completely different philosophy—which was quite possible.
Everything to do with aliens was guesswork until confirmed by observation. Instead of heading for the center, Sokolov’s route meandered back toward the hull. There was no way to catch up to him unless we burned fuel reserve, so we did so, hoping he would stop to recharge rather than do the same. By the time our journey ended, we were down to twenty percent, which in the new math of the Ancients gave us about sixteen minutes.
We burst out onto a flight deck filled with bubble-shaped small craft, shuttles, pinnaces and pods if I had to guess. The bay door was open wide and one shuttle cradle stood empty.
“Shit,” I said without feeling.
I engaged my com-link and opened a channel to my exec. “Hansen! Circle the ship and pick us up.”
I leaned out of the bay into space, hoping to spot Sokolov’s beacon, but got nothing. Inside the alien shuttle, his signal must be blocked. Without some kind of help, there was no way to pick out one ship among the hundreds in my range of vision.
“Suit,” I said, “go active on all sensors and search for anomalous motion. Highlight anything abnormal.”
A moment later, a caret pointed at a receding dot. Zooming in with my optics, I saw that it was a spherical craft matching this alien design. “Got him. Suit, mark and track, and pass to all Star Force personnel in the area. That’s Sokolov.”
As soon as Hansen picked us up, we followed.
“Big problem, Skipper,” Hansen said. “Fuel. He’s probably got a full tank, and ours is at less than half. I’m feeding in as much repeller as I can control, but that’s only about five percent.”
“I can tell,” I replied as we clamped our gauntlets onto stanchions to hold steady against the severely wobbling, bucking craft. “Just do your best.”
It took only a few minutes to catch up to Sokolov’s shuttle, which was maneuvering lazily, almost as if he wanted to be caught.
I figured if he wanted to be caught, something was wrong. Maybe the ship was set to blow as soon as we docked with it. Maybe he wasn’t even on board. Maybe he’d stayed on the alien globe-ship and suckered us by launching that shuttle on computer control.
“Blow it out of the sky,” I ordered.
“I have no clue how to fire the weapons on this thing,” Hansen replied. “We’re lucky I was able to figure out the manual flight controls and the displays.”
“Damn,” I said. “In that case, drop the ramp and point us at the shuttle.”
Soon, Kwon and I stood in the open hatch and aimed our laser rifles. “Short bursts, maximum setting,” I ordered.
“You got it, boss,” Kwon replied.
It took only five or six shots from each of us until the alien bubble was a smoking wreck spinning through space. We high-fived each other in celebration.
That was when all hell broke loose.
-26-
The screen of our alien shuttle lit up with unreadable icons, but I didn’t have to decipher them to know the inside of the golden world had just gone ‘barking mad,’ as Adrienne would say. Through the crystal viewports, I could see lights coming on aboard many of the ships as if they were awakening from a deep sleep.
Clearly, something had changed—something had switched them on. Maybe our destroying the shuttle had done it, but I couldn’t be sure.
If our deductions were correct, it was a good thing they didn’t have any crew aboard. Any vessel advanced enough to fly in space must have computers or AI of some description, and with crew some of them might take action against us. The last thing I needed was a new hostile force to worry about.
We flew through a sea of ticking time bombs.
“Hansen! Get us the hell out of here.”
“To where?”
“Back to where we left the crew would be best.”
Hansen shook his bald head. “No direct path is possible due to our trajectory and speed. I’m heading for the edge of this boneyard first and then we can loop around.”
Abruptly a searing red flash came through the open viewports and our faceplates darkened automatically—but not soon enough to keep my retinas from overloading. Fortunately, nanites and Microbes could restore eyes as well as flesh, and as the dazzling effect wasn’t severe, I could soon see again.
“Hurry up, Hansen. We have ships shooting at each other with guns and beams. It’s only a matter of time before one of them lobs something at us. Packed in the way we are, it’s going to be carnage.”
“I’m trying, Skipper, but most of these ships are maneuvering now. It’s an obstacle course.”
Hansen was right. We flew through a maelstrom of confusion with ships pitching, rolling, yawing and thrusting here and there. Directly out the port side I saw one large, ugly vessel, hugely armored. It plowed straight into a smaller one and cut it in half without slowing. Two more engaged in a beam duel at point-blank range, and then a third joined them, firing at both. None were of the same type nor did I recognize any.
“They’re panicking and spreading out,” Hansen said in a rising voice. “The edge of the mess is getting farther away. It won’t be long before this entire interior space is overrun.”
“Look at that,” I said, pointing at one spot on the displays near us. “Icons are disappearing.”
“Targets being destroyed?” Kwon said.
“I don’t think so. Head in that direction,” I ordered.
“Might as well. We’ll never make it to the crew if we go back through the middle of the battle.” Hansen jerked the shuttle aside applying more repeller. We spun and bucked like an old-time whaling boat in a monstrous storm, but we made progress.
I spotted a battle taking place between a carrier accompanied by two dozen drones against a squadron of frigates.
“Stay away from that,” I said, pointing. “Right now I think the warships are ignoring us, assuming we’re no threat—but fighters might have a different protocol.”
“We’ll be lucky if I’m able to hold a course at all, Skipper, but I’ll try.”
“I thought there were no life signs aboard these vessels—no crews. Am I looking at AIs here or what?”
“Unknown, sir,” Hansen said. “I don’t understand it, but there’s someone aboard those ships now. They either just appeared—or maybe they were in hibernation.”
“They couldn’t thaw out in seconds,” I said thoughtfully. “You’re sure they all started moving at once?”
“As far as I could tell. I can forward you the log files to check my earlier readings, sir.”
He sounded a little annoyed, and I waved it off. I doubted there was anything we could learn from the mystery anyway. Then I was struck by a new possibility.
“What if they were in stasis—like those creatures trapped in Sokolov’s lair?”
Hansen shrugged. “Could be.”
A few moments later we broke out into relatively open inner space. In front of us we could still see icons disappearing, but I didn’t see any signs of wreckage or explosions.
“All of these ships are disappearing at the same point in space,” I said. “Zoom the optics in on the spot.”
Hansen fiddled with the sensor controls with one hand while keeping the ship on course with the other. Amazingly, he was able to get a decent picture of the coordinates I wanted to examine.
“Macros,” Kwon roared. “The Macros are getting away!”
He was right. A dozen remaining Macro ships lined up and dove for a square hole in the underside of the golden shell that defined this planet.
“That’s an opening, not a ring or portal,” I said. Switching on the ansible, I began transmitting. �
�Marvin, if you can hear me, all the ships inside the golden sphere are active and a bunch of Macros are escaping through an opening into the local star system. Pass the word to Valiant and Stalker to rendezvous and back off. They should not engage. Defensive protocols should be used at every level. The Ancients have lost control of this situation, but I don’t know how. Sokolov must have succeeded in wrecking their control mechanism after all, but that’s water under the bridge. For now, survival is imperative.”
“Survival is always imperative, Captain Riggs,” Marvin’s welcome voice responded. “Without survival, what would be the point of existence?”
“Thanks for the philosophy lesson, Marvin. Pass on my orders. And also, if you get a chance and think the risk is acceptable, most of the crew is waiting on an interior landing platform. Kwon, Hansen and I are in an alien shuttle attempting to get out behind the Macros. If you see our beacons, try to pick us or the crew up, whichever is easier.”
“Orders passed. Marvin out.”
I suspected he’d closed the channel to prevent me from giving further orders specifically to him in a dangerous situation. Survival, freedom of action and technical challenges seemed to be Marvin’s top priorities in life—in that order. I supposed that wasn’t so different from a lot of biotics.
“Look,” Kwon said. “Nanos!”
Kwon was right. As the tail end of the Macro squadron lined up to exit the hole in the shell of the golden planet, ninety small Nano ships attacked the Macro rear, looking just the way I remembered from the thousands of hours of war vids I’d watched growing up.
They operated just as stupidly as they did historically making me presume they lacked command personnel to think creatively. Dividing themselves evenly into groups of three or four, they engaged each Macro ship with several of their own rather than doing as my father had done and every Star Force officer was trained to do: attack one or two targets at a time with overwhelming force, blowing each out of the sky in turn. Instead of a disciplined slaughter, the battle turned into a melee.
The Nanos still had the upper hand by far since most of the Macros had exited the scene. They managed to kill seven or eight of the bigger ships, but a couple made it through anyway. Nanos followed them out of the hole, still firing.
“If the Macros are massing on the other side, the Nano ships are going to be meat,” I said, my tactical mind kicking into overdrive. “Damn, but I wish I had Valiant under me right now.”
“I wish I had Steiner under me right now,” Kwon chimed in.
“Thanks for that image, Kwon. Hansen, aim for the opening and let’s see if the Macros are ambushing the Nanos or not.”
Closer and closer we approached the rectangular hole. It was about a mile by a half mile in size as if one slab was missing from the Golden world’s outer skin. In fact, that was probably exactly what the hole represented: a slot for a slab-ship that wasn’t in position. I kept waiting for the golden machines to intervene, but they didn’t. I decided I had to ignore the possibility and focus on dealing with the things I could see and influence.
The last of the Nano ships dove through leaving Macro wreckage in their wake. Most of them had survived. Mentally I cheered and saluted them, but I doubted they could win a straight-up battle with the entire Macro force. If I were a Nano ship commander, I’d have ordered them to pull back and find somewhere to put their factories to work making more ships. Since each Nano carried a small factory, this was by far the best strategy. But without command personnel, the Nanos acted with poor strategic foresight.
I’d always wondered about that. Dad had figured out and pretty much confirmed that the Blues had built both the Macros and the Nanos. His theory, backed up by a reasonable amount of evidence, was that the enormous, aerogel Blues needed AI-run machines to be their hands, eyes and ears outside the crushing gravity of their gas giant homeworld. Originally they’d created the Macros, and when those went rogue they’d made the Nanos to oppose them.
The Macros must have taught the Blues that pure AI was inflexible, so they created protocols to acquire biotics to serve aboard the Nano ships. Fair enough. But I still wondered at the inability of the Nano brainboxes to learn much. The ones we’d made, cloned and programmed seemed to do better. Was this because we humans were gifted in the area of AI design? Or was it because the crew of a ship taught and interacted with our brainboxes more than the average Nano commander? Any intelligence developed poorly without a variety of experiences and input was bound to be limited in its capacities.
Even Dad had treated Alamo as an adversary for a long time, a computer to be outwitted rather than an ally. Our own brainboxes, such as the small one in my suit and the big one aboard Valiant, we thought of as allies. Maybe that made the difference. Maybe even AIs knew when their command personnel liked and respected them.
Or maybe I was full of shit, making them out to be too much like us. Still, it was an intriguing theory.
“I don’t see any fighting going on,” Hansen said as he edged our shuttle closer to the hole.
“Keep approaching,” I said. “And speed it up. What, are we crawling to the finish line here?”
Hansen gave me a sheepish glance. “I’m trying to come in from an oblique angle. I sure wish we had a probe to stick its nose out for us.”
We edged up to the rim of the opening. Fortunately, no other ships approached us from behind. Most of them seemed to be occupied in a titanic swirling dogfight.
“I’ll be happy to be out of here,” I muttered.
“Looks like you’ll get your wish,” Hansen said. “The way is clear.”
“Then get us through.”
“We’re almost out of fuel, and once we’re outside we won’t have any free battery power from the environment,” Hansen reminded me.
“Yeah well, just take us through and shut down everything. Conserve energy and fuel. We need to get picked up.”
Hansen put us into a controlled drift and tried to get us a better tactical picture on the displays. The colors and shapes were hard to get used to as the ship was alien. We couldn’t read the script, but it’s amazing how much can be gleaned from just a few graphics if that’s all you have.
“Looks like the Macros are heading out into space,” Hansen said, nodding at a group of icons. “The Nanos are following them but not engaging.”
“Probably going for the comet cloud at the edge of the system. It’s the only source of raw materials. Give them time and they’ll plant factories and rebuild. I bet the Nanos will try to prevent that. They’ll harass them as much as possible.”
“They can’t win,” Kwon said. “Not enough Nanos.”
“Without command personnel, they’re following their programming. They’ll fight to the death.”
“Too bad we couldn’t give them some commanders,” Kwon replied.
An idea exploded in my mind. “Kwon, you’re amazing. I only hope we have time to do it.”
“Huh? I’m amazing? Do what?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just keep thinking out loud and we’ll be fine.”
“Half the time I don’t understand you, boss.”
“Hardly anyone does, Kwon. Hansen, open the hatch again.” As soon as I had a line of sight into space I sent out a wideband signal. “Riggs to Valiant, come in.”
“Valiant here, Captain Riggs,” I heard.
“Put me through to whoever has the conn,” I said.
“Turnbull here,” Adrienne’s welcome voice said in my ear.
“Adrienne, we need to be picked up, fast.”
“Yes, Marvin told us. We’re on our way.”
“Hansen?”
“I heard.” Hansen turned the shuttle until he lined up on Adrienne’s signal and accelerated gently, mostly to give Valiant an easy flare to spot.
Two large icons centered themselves on the screen: Valiant and Stalker, I figured. When Valiant’s launch bay swallowed us several minutes later relief flooded through me.
“We’re home!” I said, slamming
Kwon on the back and stopping myself from doing the same to Hansen. He wasn’t wearing armor. “Shut this thing down and get to the bridge as fast as possible,” I told him as I exited the shuttle.
Kwon and I bolted down passageways and soon stomped onto the bridge. Retracting my helmet and gauntlets, I made as if to kiss Adrienne, but she put her arms out with a sour look.
“Focus on tactics, Captain Riggs,” she said stiffly.
“Right. Whatever,” I said with a touch of anger. I’d made one little relationship misstep and she was never going to let me forget it. “To your station, then, Ms. Turnbull. Valiant, are you fit to fight?”
“Overall readiness stands at fifty-eight percent.”
“What’s the major deficit?”
“We have only two operational combat drones and only nine crew members.”
“Aside from the lack of Daggers, what’s the readiness number?”
“Seventy-nine percent. That is only an approximation not taking any specific combat situation into account.”
“Got it.”
For long-range ship-to-ship combat, Valiant could probably do fine without many crew members. For close-in stuff or boarding actions we needed marines, damage control parties, and technicians to make repairs, just for starters.
Now the question I had to answer was whether to go after our people or help the Nanos chase down the Macros. If the Macros got away and started reproducing using their factory capabilities, I might regret not going after the enemy immediately while they were relatively weak. But looking at Adrienne and Bradley, the only two crewmembers on the bridge, I knew the correct tactical decision wasn’t always the right one.
“Valiant, set course for the opening we came out of. Employ no more than five percent repeller augmentation and use a conservative thrust profile. Because of anomalies within the golden planet, expect fuel expenditures exceeding ten times normal,” I said.
“Noted. Shall Warrant Officer Hansen be piloting manually?”
At that moment, Hansen hurried onto the bridge to throw himself into the pilot’s seat. “Damn right I will,” he said. He slipped his hands onto the dual custom joysticks and placed his feet on the pedals.