by Andrew Beery
"The Heidman-2 is completely space-worthy at this point but there really is no way to outrun the gauntlet up there. What's the status of the 'One'?" Cat asked.
"The only thing holding us up is a working AI," Chief Wroblewski confirmed. "The engineering crew from the red team really had very little to do."
"Sherry tells me we should be at your aft docking port in four minutes," Jeffries added. "Commodore, I'd like permission to move as much of my crew in medical stasis to the shuttle for evacuation as possible. Even if we get the AI up and running the crew will need more time to be revived then we are going to have. Also, this section of the ship is much lower in the gravity well so external pressures are that much higher."
"Which translates into higher risk. I understand. Permission granted but I want that AI up and running as soon as possible. The more ships we have that can move, the more targets they have to chase. We need to buy ourselves about eight hours."
"What happens in eight hours?" Sassi asked.
"In eight hours the cavalry arrives," Cat said cryptically.
***
WeaponsPlatform 23 was happily monitoring a college football game– Notre Dame verses the U.S. Naval Academy. Of all the races the massive war-machine-turned-peacekeeper had experienced over the course of many millennia, humanity seemed to have the greatest capacity for play. Oh, other species played but few turned play into institutions wherein participants made their contribution to society as professional players through which the masses could participate vicariously.
WhimPy-23, as he had taken to calling himself, enjoyed watching the games as much, or more, than anyone. His was a vast intellect, engineered and refined initially by the Uruk and later enhanced and repurposed for peace by their descendants, the Heshe.
At his core, however, he remained a competitor. He thrived on challenges. Football, rugby, soccer, basketball, and, yes, even hockey, provided outlets for this drive. WhimPy-23 had amassed a small fortune in fantasy football winnings. He had no use for the money but he enjoyed the victory it represented.
His winnings this year would go to a charity established by aD’lralu officer named Mirdan. He was the Third of the Seventh in his family. Mirdan had developed a similar passion for human sports. He had started a school on one of their home worlds for the sport of soccer. The D'lralu had six legs and so were considered naturals for this game.
WhimPy-23 was totally engrossed in watching the game as Navy attempted a desperate on-side kick when his communication array signaled for his attention. It seemed his good friend Commodore Cat Kimbridge wanted to chat.
***
Captain Mike Jeffries swung a leg over the rail and dropped the last few feet into the primary engineering pit. He had run all the way from the aft docking port where he had just shushed a somber Sassi out of the communications substation and onto the waiting skiff that had brought the Red team over.
As far as he could tell, he and his recently reactivated AI Cindy were the only people still on the Heidman-1. This piece of the Heidman didn't have a proper bridge but he could run things just about as well from the pit.
"Cindy, are the others away yet?"
"Affirmative, Captain," came the soft feminine voice that was his AI.
"Bring the hyper-field nodes online. Gravity compensators to 55 percent. Polarize the hull; let’s make ourselves as big a target as possible."
The current working theory was the Buggers were detecting the energy signatures from the various GCP craft operating on the surface. Therefore the shuttle, both skiffs, the smaller Heidman-2, and Ricky Valen's Honey Dipper One were all going into stealth mode while the Heidman-1 was going to make as much noise as possible.
Cat had ordered him to abandon this segment with the rest of his crew but he knew their best chance rested on someone staying onboard. Very few of the systems had been tested since their automated repairs. The onboard AI was just itself repaired. If something went wrong he would be needed. He had disobeyed her orders but he knew he was giving his remaining crew the best chance for survival by doing so.
"How far out are the Buggers?" He hated using that term, especially given his new felt respect for these people, but since the locals did not have a spoken language and since the Xenobiology folks had taken to calling this race the Hymenopterans, which no one besides a Xenobiologist could pronounce, Buggers had become the general name of choice. Cat had tried to put a stop to it but Rasta-Tckner had stepped in and said that he thought the idea of a slang name for his people was delightful.
"The primary grouping will be in our vicinity in forty seconds. Three smaller contingents are separating off; however, analysis of their flight paths indicates they are in search mode. It appears we are the only confirmed target."
Good, Mike thought. It's working.
"Cindy, bring active shielding..."
BOOM
The deck shook and Mike was thrown to his feet in a shower of electrical sparks before he could complete the command. Anticipating his orders, the AI attempted to bring the hyper-field nodes that provided shielding online. Unfortunately a command conduit from the logic core had been severed. Nanite repair systems were even now reconnecting the pathway, but the seconds it would take to complete would cost the Heidman-1 dearly.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
Three more explosions quickly followed as craft that had initially been designed as small single person miners became piloted concussion bombs. The pilots deliberately deactivated the containment fields on their power reactors, allowing the superheated gasses to vaporize their ships in massive explosions. Much like dropping a depth charge against a submarine, the Heidman-1 was pounded relentlessly.
"Cindy! Do whatever it takes! Get us out of here! Move this ship, now!"
Ever obedient the AI brought the remaining hyper-field nodes online. Sixty-three percent of the nodes had been damaged or destroyed by the concussive blasts and those that remained were not evenly placed around the hull. In order to compensate Cindy ran the remaining nodes at 210 percent of rated capacity. They would burn out in a matter of minutes, but the Heidman-1 was once again airborne.
The uneven strain on the hull of the damaged ship stressed seams and joints that had not been fully inspected after their automated repairs. Sixteen small craft exploded within half a kilometer of the wounded GCP vessel. Several thousand terajoules of energy impacted the vulnerable side of the Heidman-1 and structural integrity fields collapsed. The craft which had survived a crash landing on Kepler-47b folded in on itself like a soda can being crushed. Its primary reactors did not have time to SCRAM. The result was a run-away reactor breach that vaporized the Heidman-1.
The resulting concussive wave circled the planet four times. It might well have been Captain Mike Jeffries' final farewell, were it not for a small metallic cylinder ejected at the last moment by an AI sensing its own imminent demise.
Chapter Twelve - Second Sight...
"Sir!" Commander Trifa exclaimed sharply. "The stealth probes Commander Kirkland put in place just reported one heck of an explosion on 47b!"
Admiral Faragon leaned forward in his command chair on the bridge of the GCP Yorktown. "Define 'one heck.'"
The Hupenstanii communications officer adjusted a control on his console. "Several thousand terajoules at a minimum, Sir. There were multiple smaller blasts followed by a really big one. The wave front from the larger explosion has circled 47b several times and the ejecta is well into lunar orbit." Trifa paused before continuing in a notably pained voice. "Sir, the size of the explosion is consistent with a Bowman class reactor overload."
The Admiral toggled his internal commlink. "Cal, do you still have a connection with Cat?"
"Yes, Admiral. It was the Heidman-1 that was destroyed. The remaining AI on the Heidman-2 reports there was only one person onboard when the ship was lost."
Bud Faragon closed his eyes and asked the obvious question, although he already knew in his heart what the answer would be. "Who was it?"
"Ca
ptain Michael Jeffries."
"Is he confirmed killed? No chance of revival?"
"The ship was vaporized, Sir, there would be nothing to revive."
"Commander Trifa, see if you can raise Commodore Kimbridge. Let's see if we can't find out what is happening."
***
Cat removed her hand from the shattered holographic display she had accidentally destroyed when she had been tossed across the bridge of the Heidman-2. There were several deep gashes that cut across tendons and bled profusely. Her Heshe enhanced medical nanites immediately kicked into high gear and the bleeding stopped almost as fast as it started. The wounds closed up and tendon repair was begun. If she had been distracted for more than fifteen or twenty seconds she might not have even realized she had been injured.
When she glanced up she saw a bridge full of alarmed looks. She realized she had been the only one thrown when the ship was unexpectedly buffeted. Unlike her, the others were all in their encounter suits per her orders. Those suits had automatically clamped to decking and compensated for the shift in gravity when the Heidman-2's attitude relative to the planet had sharply changed.
"Do as I say, not as I do," she mumbled to herself.
"Sir?" Rudy McQuin said.
"Nothing, Commander. Just commenting on personal failings."
"Since we are speaking personally, I thought that was an impressive triple lutz you just did," Ricky Valen said with a wolfish grin.
"Stow it," Cat said more sharply than she had intended. "Unless I miss my guess we just lost a good man. Cindy, can you raise the Heidman-1?"
The slightly feminine voice of the ships' primary AI filled the bridge. There was a definite tinge of remorse in the tone. "Negative, Commodore. The Heidman-1 was completely destroyed in the blast."
Cat turned to face Rasta-Tckner. Their guest was once again back in an alien-looking encounter suit of his race's design. The schematics had been pulled from his small one-man ship before it was jettisoned. "What can you tell us about the weapon they just used?"
Rasta-Tckner scurried back and forth a few steps which Cat had learned to read as worry or agitation. "Honestly Commodore, I can't. My people don't, or at least didn't, have anything even remotely capable of making a blast that big."
Ensign Henderson, who was currently manning the communications station, interrupted. "Ma'am, I have a priority signal coming in from the Yorktown. It's Admiral Faragon."
"Put him through Ensign."
As soon as the young officer had the channel open Cat continued. "Admiral, we just took a pretty big battering down here. I'm still assessing the situation."
Admiral Faragon's voice filled the small bridge. "We've been trying to follow what's happening using the probes Ken put in orbit. It looks like you had a series of smaller explosions followed by a much bigger one that wiped out the swarm that was attacking you as well as the larger section of the Heidman."
"Correct Sir. Our systems recorded the same thing. I think the smaller explosions might have been individual attack craft overloading their engines deliberately, acting much like depth charges attacking a submarine. The larger blast was the Heidman. I suspect the containment field on her reactor was somehow breached."
"Casualties?"
Cat paused briefly before answering. "None on our ship Sir, but we lost Mike. He was on the Heidmen-1. He was ordered to leave but stayed behind to give the others the best chance possible. He died a hero, Sir, and my report will reflect as much."
"I expect it will," Admiral Faragon said. He was well aware of the concerns Cat had with the captain of the Heidman as a result of his mistreatment of a prisoner but he also knew human beings sometimes made mistakes they came to regret. He hoped the loss of an otherwise fine officer was not some misguided attempt at redemption.
Cat interrupted his thoughts. "Sir, we are pretty much stuck down here. The Heidman-2 is parked next to Captain Valen's shuttle, and the two skiffs are shortly going to rendezvous with the Dante; but the minute we attempt to clear the gravity well of this planet the locals are going to know we are still alive and come at us like ticks on a dog."
"Hey now..." theD’lralu engineer Commander Ben started to say but a sharp look from the Admiral hushed him.
"Any word as to when WhimPy-23 can be in place?" Cat continued.
"Even the Heshe don't move a platform as massive as a WhimPy quickly," Admiral Faragon said as he paused to check with his AI link. "My understanding is that the platform's AI thinks he should arrive in system in about forty minutes. I assume everyone that can is running in stealth mode. That said, I'm concerned about Valen's civilian shuttle. It can't cloak. Are you sure you want to be parked right next to it?"
"That's the one bit of good news. All ships are currently stealth-enabled including Captain Valen's. We were forced to do some creative repairs on his ship after our less than stellar landing. I left some fabrication and repair nanites in place and cloned my encounter unit. It seems it took the liberty to do a rather extensive upgrade. I dare say there is not another mining shuttle like it anywhere in the fleet."
"What's the plan then?" The Admiral asked.
"We are going to lay low until WhimPy gets here. I asked him to establish a geosynchronous orbit on the far side of the planet. My hope is the locals will attempt to swarm him. When they do, we will power up and beat a quick retreat. The Heidman has to get at least 0.1 AU away from 47b before its underpowered reactors will be able to open up a stable hyper-fold. The Dante will run interference as necessary."
"0.1 AU is still the better part of 1.5 million kilometers. That's an awful long way to have to travel in hostile territory. Especially if you are going to be dependent on reaction-mass propulsion."
"Agreed, Sir. Frankly we are relying on a certain amount of confusion. We have the sixteen stealth probes in orbit around the moons programmed to broadcast a bogus energy signature to further confuse things. We'll need the Yorktown to jump in and give us a lift. In our current configuration the Heidman should be able to fit in the larger of the two cargo bays. Hopefully, there will be so much chaos that we will be able to jump to safety before the Buggers can catch up with us."
"Actually, I may be able to do you one better," the Admiral said. "The WhimPyis carrying some new tech which may help.”
***
Mike Jeffries woke with a bit of a headache. This was greeted with a certain degree of excitement on his part because he truly did not expect to be waking at all. The last thing he remembered was Cindy insisting he get in an escape pod as a precaution against an accidental hull breach. No sooner had the hatch closed then the pod was ejected. His head, which was not yet covered with his encounter suit helmet, impacted with said helmet as he was tossed across the small compartment.
He lost consciousness and was unaware of the repeated buffeting that the escape pod was subjected to as the Heidman's core overloaded. The pod, programmed to operate independently, flew thirty-eight kilometers to the peak of the tallest mountain range in this hemisphere of the planet. There the pod settled next to some alien wreckage. The medical nanites began the work of healing the escape pod's only passenger.
Mike tried to contact the Heidman via his internal commlink. He got no response. He tried to contact Commodore Kimbridge, but again there was no response. Confused, he had the comm system do a diagnostic and was disheartened to learn there was a hardware fault. No doubt when he was thrown across the room his cybernetic communications implant was damaged. Normally a ship's AI could direct his medical nanites to enter a special mode designed to repair the non-organic hardware link but without access to an AI that was not going to happen.
A quick inventory showed he had enough supplies for six people for a week. His encounter suit was in good shape and external sensors showed the atmospheric was little more than one and a half atmospheres. He must be on a pretty high mountain. The ground outside seemed to be sheared flat as if something massive had plowed through the top of the mountain. LIDAR systems indicated a massive heap
of metallic material within a few hundred feet of the escape pod. Fearing he might be looking at the remains of the Heidman-2 or even the Dante, he decided to investigate.
The walk from the pod to the wreckage outside was not difficult even in the extreme gravity because of the servos built into his encounter suit. The atmosphere at this altitude was primarily CO2 and Nitrogen. While it would certainly be fatal to breath the stuff, it was, thankfully, easy to see through.
The sight that greeted him was like nothing any human had ever seen.
Chapter Thirteen - Weapons Platform-23...
The world WhimPy-23 saw below was amazing. Most worlds existed in some type of equilibrium. Energy flowed in very predictable patterns as it sought in vain to reach equilibrium. What WhimPy saw was chaos. Normally the only energy of significance added to a planet's weather pattern was solar radiation.
Not so with Kepler-47b. Tectonic stress from the impact of four very large moons caused numerous volcanos and magma flows which superheated select regions of the atmosphere. The wide differential in surface temperatures caused massive atmospheric pressure differentials; differentials that sought equilibrium in the form of extremely energetic winds.
Recent activities on the planet, namely a massive thermonuclear explosion from the demise of the GCP Heidman, further exacerbated the erratic weather patterns. A superstorm was beginning to form, and according to the modeling algorithms WhimPy-23 applied to data he scanned from the planet's surface, the storm would continue to grow for another two weeks until it encompassed 73 percent of the planet. With wind speeds in excess of 800 kilometers an hour, very little would remain safe on the planet's surface.