“—kinetic buffers down to forty-seven percent.”
“Nightwatch has lost its stern targeting computer array—”
“Assuming position aft of Ardent.”
“Incoming flight of starfighters at sixty degrees.”
“—communication antenna on Ardent is suffering a malfunction.”
“Tighten anti-starfighter batteries; don’t let them through.”
“—torpedo launch—”
“Concentrate fire suppression on vector eight-one!”
A violent collision seized their frigate, reverberating through deck plates and causing Genevieve’s legs to buckle and slamming her into a guardrail. “Status!”
“Torpedo impact!” someone hollered. “Hull breach above ancillary communications station.”
“Seal emergency bulkheads and isolate the compartments,” Genevieve commanded. She grasped the rail and steadied her footing. “Gunnery, re-direct all discretionary batteries to anti-missile defense.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lieutenant Yacoby stood beside her with a pained expression coloring his features. “Three crewmembers staff our secondary communications area.”
“I know, damn it. All we can do is hope their deaths were quick and painless.” She turned and raised her voice above the noise of a bridge crew engaged in combat. “Navigation, how long until we can enter faster-than-light travel?”
“Two minutes, ma’am.”
“I need you to shave time off that estimate. Reroute or bypass whatever safety parameters you need to, but get us away from this damn system.”
“Trident corvettes are overwhelming our stern kinetic buffers,” said one technician. “System is beyond failsafe and close to overload.”
“Redistribute all available power and keep that system functioning. We don’t need them to hold for long.”
A blinding fireball detonated beyond the viewport as one cannon penetrated a hostile starfighter, raining liquefied debris on their frigate. Genevieve tightened her grasp on the rail, feeling an anxious tremble lance through her arms and white-knuckled hands.
“One minute to faster-than-light entry.”
A desperate crewmate’s scream tore through Genevieve’s heart. “The Ardent has lost her bridge!”
Genevieve sprinted to the forward viewport and pressed her hands against tempered glass, staring to starboard at the corvette their frigate struggled to safeguard. A mangled crater was gouged into the hull where its elevated bridge should have been, the gaping chasm ejecting atmosphere, detritus and frozen corpses into space.
“Establish communications with the Ardent’s auxiliary bridge and help them regain control however we can,” she commanded.
“Ardent is drifting farther to starboard away from our escape vector and there’s no response from the auxiliary crew. Their communications are offline. I can’t be sure if their helm is able to regain control.”
“Can we slave the corvette to our bridge?”
Disbelief colored the crewmember’s face as he listened. “Slaving an entire starship larger than a freighter during complex maneuvers is far beyond safety regulations. The chances of instabilities alone—”
“I didn’t ask for the risks,” Genevieve countered. “I asked if the task can be done.”
“Uh…yes, ma’am. We’ll lose no less than seven percent of our current velocity and maneuvering capabilities will decrease by a factor of two.”
“Do it. Bring the Ardent back on its proper heading and ensure its speed remains constant.”
“Ma’am, I—”
“You heard the captain,” snapped Lieutenant Yacoby. “Get the Ardent under our control.”
“Captain,” the Communications Technician said, “Nightwatch reports its systems are ready for faster-than-light travel.”
“Tell them to jump immediately without waiting for us and maintain a holding position at our designated rendezvous site.”
Genevieve watched the farthest corvette stretch into an impossibly elongated streak and wink from existence in a blur of distorted space. One crew was safely away from the ambush and she felt her roiling stomach loosen, knowing at least a single vessel could report to the Confederacy navy.
“Ma’am, Ardent is slaved to our bridge and returning to the desired vector. Her crew must understand what we’re attempting and has deactivated all security protocols and electronic malware and cyberwarfare firewalls to strengthen our connection. Our control appears to be holding steady.”
“Engineering, increase our velocity to the maximum allowable limit without risking catastrophic engine failure. Find every last trace of speed you can.”
Groans and the din of straining bulkheads echoed through their frigate. Plasma spanned the distance between the Constellation and her assailants, hammering depleted shielding and piercing hull sections where the kinetic buffers had failed.
“Inducing actuator is online,” affirmed their navigator. “Velocity counterpoise is functioning at optimal levels and our course is set.”
“On your mark,” Genevieve instructed. “All crew prepare for faster-than-light travel.”
Stars beyond their frigate tapered to endless lines and inundated the bridge with a brilliant luminance. Tingling pressure rippled against her chest as the propulsion core expelled a staggering amount of energy, though their warship’s powerful counterpoise allowed her to remain upright without losing consciousness during the acceleration. The strain on a person’s body was greatest aboard smaller vessels, which was why starfighter pilots in particular wore specialized flight suits and were trained to withstand the forces exerted on them.
Genevieve steadied her labored breathing and did not bother asking questions of her equally exhausted crew. Communications and sensor data between starships were useless during faster-than-light travel, which made frantic escapes all the more nerve-racking. She would not know what became of either supporting corvette in her task force until they returned to normal space and re-established connections with one another.
At least they were merely jumping to the Tuathan fringes, a short hop in astronomical terms and a journey measured in minutes rather than hours or days. Still, the seconds ticked past in her head at an agonizing pace, and every moment she anticipated alarms to shriek as the frigate broke apart in transit. Leaping to FTL velocities in a damaged starship was often the final decision made by desperate crews, whose vessels turned into disfigured debris scattered across an entire light-year of territory.
“Exiting faster-than-light travel in thirty seconds,” announced Helm. “Brace for deceleration.”
Genevieve waited as the final countdown reached zero and the Constellation decreased its velocity, leaving the enveloping bubble of distorted space-time reality. Stars that had coalesced into an endless panorama of shimmering light returned to individual specks.
“Deceleration rate normal,” declared a navigation staffer. “Reversion to realspace conducted without incident.”
Genevieve reached the viewport and frantically searched among colorful nebulae and an unchanging starfield. “Sensor Chief, what happened to the Ardent?”
“She’s still with us, Captain. Hull integrity and life support remain stable, but it’s unlikely she’ll be in any condition for another jump. I can’t verify the state of its crew without active communications.”
“Status of the Nightwatch?”
“The corvette reports a successful trip and is approaching our position from a distance of seventy thousand kilometers.”
“Sensors, I need to know what’s happening in this region,” instructed Genevieve.
“No pursuit, Captain,” announced the Sensor Chief. “We’re alone.”
“All engines full stop. Passive and active defenses are to remain operational, along with targeting software and weaponry. Run diagnostic commands on all systems and assess damage. Are long-range transceivers and communications online?”
“Yes, ma’am. Neither system was damaged during the battle.”
“Have we left their jamming network that prevented us from linking to interstellar communications?”
“We appear to be beyond the interference, Captain.”
“Link our shipboard network to the closest comm relay that connects with our naval outpost in the Tangaroa system. Flag it at the highest priority and issue my command authorization override if there’s the slightest delay or queue.”
“I’ll let you know when we’ve established a stable and secure connection.”
Genevieve glanced sidelong at her Executive Officer. “Lieutenant Yacoby?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Instruct Lieutenant Galanos to dispatch an entire company of her marines and a team of engineers to the Ardent. Conduct emergency repairs if the corvette can be salvaged and remain spaceworthy. If not, evacuate all surviving personnel to the Nightwatch and here.”
“At once, Captain,” Noam replied.
“Flight Control, what damage has our hangar suffered?”
“Minimal, and our starfighters are all undamaged.”
“Then launch our Scimitars and have all but one perform surveillance flights at a range of thirty thousand kilometers. We can’t trust our sensor suites to be entirely reliable until we’ve run diagnostics. The remaining Scimitar is to shadow the Ardent and perform a visual inspection of its hull.”
Genevieve whirled on her heels, counting the most crucial elements in her head. “Are our life support systems functioning?”
“All protocols remain optimal, ma’am. Chances of critical failure less than one percent.”
“Then our priority is tending to survivors. I want all non-essential personnel from every department to leave their station and search for wounded or missing crewmembers. Find those who haven’t reported in and commence triage for medical care. Do what you can for anyone who isn’t likely to survive their injuries, but don’t waste resources if others can be saved. Once all wounded crew have been stabilized, begin a recovery process for any bodies that can be safely retrieved. Get to it, people.”
Those who were no longer needed in the immediate aftermath vacated their stations and departed the bridge to help elsewhere.
Her Intelligence Analyst raised his hand. “Captain?”
Genevieve came to his station and eyed the display. “What is it?”
“The Warspite and Saber were the Delbaethi assault frigates leading this attack. Intelligence believed both warships were in the Cailleach system, skirmishing with elements of the Elathan Talon Fleet.”
“Our operatives and networks can’t maintain surveillance of each Tuathan warship in every theater of war. Several are bound to slip through, which is precisely how ambushes happen. The fact we made no efforts to hide our presence here only raised the possibility of hostilities. Attach a note to the intelligence report, recommending our updated information be distributed to the fleet.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you happen to identify the other Sickle-class frigate and the Tridents?”
“None had active transponders, Captain. Neither did the starfighter squadron.”
“Can we estimate their identities or fleet affiliation based on the warships present?” questioned Genevieve. “Any known group operating with these parameters under the command of Captain Ramirez?”
“No, ma’am. Naval Intelligence has no records of a task force or flotilla with these particular vessels.”
“Request authorization from Fleet Ops to access higher tier intelligence data. We might be able to uncover their identities if we’re cleared for classified files.”
“I’ll see what I can find, Captain,” he responded.
Genevieve felt warmth on her forehead and touched the hairline with one hand, revealing scarlet droplets marring her fingertips. She did not remember striking her head during the engagement. Had she been thrown when the torpedo impacted their hull? Genevieve noticed her crumpled peak cap lying on the deck and knelt to retrieve it, brushing away stains left by a boot heel.
“Secure connection with the Tangaroa system relay established, ma’am,” announced the Communications Technician. “We’re prepared to broadcast.”
Genevieve wiped bloodstained fingers on her uniform and strode to an active console. “This is Captain Genevieve Letourneau of CSV Constellation, commanding Task Force Echelon in the Tuatha system, requesting emergency support from the Ascendant Starfleet. We’ve come under direct fire from warships of the Delbaethi Navy and suffered unknown casualties. The Lunar-class corvette Ardent sustained cataclysmic damage and may be inoperable. Our mission as mediators between Delbaeth and Elatha has failed, and we’re now awaiting further instructions. I’m broadcasting our location to any and all Authority starships close enough to reach us.
“I repeat, the Delbaeth Commonwealth has committed an act of war against the Confederacy.”
Chapter 18
Alexis breathed rarefied air among the Karnak library, its antique shelves lined with millions of books, manuscripts, data files, pre-loaded tablets and storage discs of varying formats. Statues of Herodotus, Enheduanna, Aristotle, Sappho and other ancient writers and scribes adorned columns encircling the central spire. Desks and study areas stretched outward in concentric rings, each housing students engrossed in their studies. Only a few short years ago Alexis was among their number, stressed over assignments and finals or anxious thinking about her future.
Now the fate of two entire worlds and their populaces might rest on her shoulders, which was hardly an improvement.
She reached a security station and presented her university alumnus documentation to one guard, followed by her legitimate identification. Once both cleared processing, Alexis stepped through and waited for Rinko and Harun to hand over their identification as her guests.
Finally satisfied, the guard returned all cards to their owners. “Enjoy your visit to the University of Karnak. Welcome back, Ms. Lawrence.”
Alexis thanked him and led the others deeper into the library, passing beneath arches supporting the higher floors. Mounted on one wall was a framed painting that depicted Alyssa Carson, a pioneer of early human space exploration and namesake of this institution. A golden plaque rested beneath the picture and read, ‘In honor of the first human to venture into the unknown and walk upon another world. By her example did the future of our species turn its attention toward the stars.’
Harun frowned and shifted his gaze with impatience, evidently disinterested in the staggering amount of knowledge and culture contained in this one place. “Where can we find this antique computer you require?”
“In archives on the lower levels,” Alexis responded.
“You’re certain we’re allowed down there?”
“Guess we’ll find out once we try. Though I can’t imagine why not. The sensitive and classified materials are kept under lock and key on the highest floor, which we definitely can’t access with my alumnus card. Everything else is available to any student without restrictions.”
Rinko eyed the operative and smirked. “The major is feeling nervous because he doesn’t get to carry a gun in here.”
“You two might be comfortable making jokes at my expense, but I’m on a hostile planet.”
“Yeah, we’d hate for you to be forced into learning a thing or two about tolerance and peaceful coexistence.”
“Does Captain MacDowell screen for sarcasm when hiring crewmembers?” Harun questioned. “Because the sheer volume contained on your freighter beggars belief.”
They rode an elevator down two levels and exited into a computer lab surrounded by private study rooms. Alexis beckoned with one hand after traveling beyond several corridors and passing through two additional security screening areas. Glass walls separated them from chambers crammed with shelves, drawers, airtight display cases and entire humidity and temperature controlled areas. Statues, woodworks, stone carvings, withered parchment, pottery, scrolls, paintings and other priceless treasures lined the rooms, a collection certain to rival
or even shame the grandest museum.
“Welcome to the Alyssa Carson archives,” Alexis declared, mimicking an overly cheerful tour guide. “Please remember, none of these artifacts are permitted to leave the facility. Many originated on Earth and predate humanity’s centuries-long voyage to the Astraea Cluster.”
“Actually?” inquired Rinko.
“Yep. We aren’t allowed to touch those ones without an accompanying professor or researcher though. But we can access all the electronics and equipment. All the stuff that isn’t much older than us. Though every surviving document from Earth is available to read on the computers here if you’re ever interested.”
“Maybe another day,” Harun said. “Try to remember our time is limited.”
Alexis rolled her eyes and approached one door, only to have a squirrely librarian dart in front and cast his beady little eyes at her. The man evidently thought himself an imperious gatekeeper.
“Can I see your identification?”
“You and everyone else apparently.” Alexis decided to play along and produced her alumnus card for him while the others shared their identification.
He returned her card and offered a dismissive scowl. “May I inquire what business brings you here?”
“Why?”
“This hallway leads to several pieces of equipment with restricted access. I can’t allow an unsupervised student inside.”
His insistence on speaking in such a condescending voice shattered her willingness to play nice. “I haven’t been a student in years. I’m a researcher for Professor Daudelin, and these are my assistants. We’ll be requiring exclusive use of the university’s ArcaVox for the duration of our time here. So instead of standing there slack-jawed and wasting my time with questions, let me do the work I’m contracted for.”
“The ArcaVox? I haven’t been told of any authorized usage—”
“You’re being told right now.” Alexis turned toward Harun. “Give me the disc.” When he did not immediately react to her instruction she snapped her fingers at an impatient rate. “You aren’t paid to stand around and gawk. You’re paid to do as you’re told.”
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