Demon Star

by B. V. Larson

  “I’ll talk to Lieutenant Turnbull and try to get you some more spare parts for Stalker, Kreel,” I continued. “We’re going to sit here and rebuild until we’re either at full strength, or something forces us to do otherwise. Any other concerns?”

  “No, sir. We live to serve.”

  “Glad to hear it. Riggs out.” I let out a long breath after I closed the connection. Dealing with aliens, even friendly ones, made my brain hurt. I suspected I was in for more headaches ahead.

  Two hours later, I turned out to be right.

  “I’m receiving a message from species number two,” the ship’s AI said.

  “Which one is that?”

  “The gas giant dwellers, of course,” the AI replied with a hint of testiness.

  “Don’t you dare go all Marvin on me, Valiant.”

  “Command not understood.”

  “Never mind. Let’s call them Whales from now on, shall we?”

  The aliens that inhabited the Jupiter-like world had tentacles in various parts of their bodies, but otherwise resembled their namesakes.

  “Rename successful.”

  The ship’s brainbox hadn’t been updated since we’d fallen through the Eden ring, and it had been slowly developing more and more personality as it drifted further and further from its baseline. I figured the reasons for this were obscure, and I’d already decided not to inquire too deeply.

  “What are the Whales saying?” I asked.

  “Unknown. Processing power has not been dedicated to translation databases.”

  “Then dedicate twenty percent of your neural chains to the task. How long will it take to translate with that level of allocation?”

  “Approximately thirty hours.”

  “For one message?” I demanded incredulously.

  “That includes all the time to populate the vocabulary and syntax databases. Afterward, translations of text should approach near-simultaneity.”

  “Right. What if Marvin helps?”

  “Far less time will be needed. Marvin’s translation capabilities exceed mine.”

  Was it my imagination, or had bringing up Marvin caused a hint of peevishness to enter the ship’s voice?

  “Get Marvin on the line, then,” I said.

  “Captain Marvin here,” came the robot’s voice a moment later. “I’m very busy, Cody, so let’s please make this discussion a brief one.”

  “I’m going to make you even busier, Marvin—and don’t start whining about it.”

  “It’s impossible for me to be busier as I’m already working at one hundred percent of my physical and neural capacity. Unlike biotics, I don’t become fatigued, need breaks, or withhold reserves in my efforts. It’s also impossible for me to whine.”

  “Not true,” I snorted, “you don’t have a nasally tone, but you are definitely capable of whining.”

  “I’m naturally displeased by alterations to my plans. I make rational prioritization judgments based on—”

  “Okay, okay, forget about that,” I said. “I need you to reprioritize and dedicate twenty percent of your neural circuitry to building translation databases and subroutines for the Elladan and Whale languages. Work with Valiant and make sure that she’s able to function as an interpreter as well as you are once you’re finished.”

  I didn’t want to make the mistake of relying purely on Marvin again. After all, the first time we’d encountered a biotic race, his faulty translation had gotten Valiant’s original captain and officers eaten.

  “I thought ship repair was my top priority.”

  “It still is, Marvin. That’s why I’m only asking for twenty percent. I’m leaving you eighty percent to devote to fixing everything. By the way, did you manage to outrun those missiles I saw chasing you…?”

  “Reprioritization complete. Marvin out.”

  “…Marvin?”

  He’d cut the channel, and my repeated attempts to reopen it failed. We received only automated responses indicating communications were currently impossible. Thinking this over, I wondered if he’d taken my percentages literally, putting twenty percent of his processing power into translations and the rest into repair efforts. It could have been that, or it could have been he was dodging me—quite possibly, it was some combination of both.

  I’d wanted to ask him more about the missiles that he’d teased into chasing him, but I figured it was pointless now. He’d report on that topic when it suited him. Maybe he was planning to run the missiles out of fuel or jam them so they couldn’t detonate. Then he could take them aboard and dissect them. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Valiant,” I said, “let me know when that Whale message is translated to a high degree of certainty. Say, ninety-nine percent.”

  “Understood. Estimated time to completion, fifty-one minutes.”

  “Much better.”

  That was interesting. A little high-school algebra in my head told me that Marvin must be more than thirty times as effective as Valiant when it came to translation.

  I occupied my time by reviewing what our still-degraded sensors had collected about the complex star system. Ellada, the planet populated by humanoids, was remarkably Earthlike in every detail. It even possessed a moon of similar size to Earth’s, only a few percentage points smaller.

  One of the interstellar connection rings orbited at a stable Trojan point ahead of Ellada’s single moon, but there didn’t appear to be any traffic in or out of it. No fortress guarded it either. In fact, other than a few communications arrays, nothing floated nearby.

  To me, that meant the ring wasn’t functioning. It might be under the Elladans’ control, and they only turned it on when needed. But as Marvin was the only being I’d ever known to actually get a ring to do what he wanted—sort of—it seemed more likely that they didn’t know how to make it work.

  The situation dampened my hopes that their ring would provide us an easy route back to known space. However, maybe Marvin could use it to communicate, or even get it working again, if he would apply himself to the problem.

  Ellada’s similarities to Earth made me decide to attempt to communicate with them first. If they didn’t know how to get back to Earth, they at least might be interested in learning about a twin planet in the same galaxy. As soon as we’d affected repairs, we’d head to their world.

  I spent the next fifty minutes examining Ellada in detail. A fleet of at least a hundred cruiser-sized and larger ships occupied the Trojan point retrograde from their moon. The area was a natural parking lot, a stable place where only the tiniest of station-keeping corrections were needed to prevent an orbit from decaying. I presumed these vessels were warships as freighters or passenger liners would be constantly shuttling around rather than simply waiting.

  In fact, we’d detected plenty of commercial traffic to and from Ellada’s moon and among several asteroids parked in orbit. When our sensors were repaired, I was pretty certain we’d find shipyards on those natural satellites as well.

  The Whale planet, designated Trinity-9, was like most gas giants. The massive world was circled by dozens of moons. Three were substantial, and the rest were the size of asteroids. The big ones had installations of some kind on them, and some of the small ones did too, probably for resource collection and defense.

  Because Trinity-9 was much closer to us and the Whales built things bigger, I easily found a fleet of perhaps two hundred warships in orbit there too. These weren’t “probable” as I could clearly see weapons on them in the imagery.

  I found it interesting that both inner races had substantial military forces. I wondered whether they were enemies or allied against the monstrous race we’d begun to call Demons who lived on a planet near the brown dwarf. It seemed intuitive to believe that the Demons would covet the inner planets and their resources.

  Most alien races, I’d found, seemed to want to dominate their neighbors and take their stuff if they could. Not so different from humans, I supposed
.

  Unfortunately, the brown dwarf was so far away that we could barely see the main planet that closely orbited it. What we could make out was a world larger than Earth by half, with smaller seas.

  “Translation complete,” Valiant said, startling me out of my thoughts.

  “Run it.”

  Text appeared on-screen:

  Friendly and peaceful greetings, visitors, in the name of the (untranslatable—name—rendered as “Whales”) Combine. We have many questions and answers to exchange with you. Unfortunately, this star system is in a state of war. We and the (Elladans) are threatened by a race of insectoid creatures we call (Demons), driven by their mad god to attack all within their reach. Take defensive measures to guard yourselves. Depart your current location before nineteen days seven hours pass. We await your reply with open skulls.

  I pondered this for a few minutes. “Well, if the Elladans look like Greek gods, I know what to call the brown dwarf. Valiant, designate it as Tartarus. That’s the Greek mythological Hell.”

  “Stellar subsystem designated.”

  I was about to schedule an officers’ conference to discuss the message when the ship’s voice spoke again.

  “Weapons fire detected.”

  It always struck me as strange how dispassionate the computer could be when describing its own possible doom. Valiant was pissy when asked to juggle resources, but when she announced a coming battle, she was as a smooth as glass.

  -3-

  I rushed to the holotank, putting my hands on the cool walls of it. I stared at the shifting lights, but I couldn’t pick out the source of the launch against us. The computer wasn’t showing any trace-lines back to the point of origin.

  “Where’s this attack coming from?” I demanded.

  The watch-standers on the bridge sat forward and began querying their consoles, but no klaxons wailed, so I forced myself to wait calmly, doing my best to display the proper bearing of a captain.

  The image zoomed in until the ninth planet and its moons filled the holotank. Icons appeared—yellow for Whale ships and red for the dozen unknowns that appeared to be firing. Missile tracks reached out from the crimson markers, arcing toward installations on the moons and asteroids, as well as some of the single ships plying the lanes between.

  The main Whale fleet orbited on the opposite side of the planet, and though I saw drives flaring as those ships got underway, it seemed clear that it would be quite a while, perhaps even hours, before they could intervene. Circling a gas giant takes time from a standing start.

  It also seemed clear that whatever was hitting the Whales had taken them by surprise.

  “Valiant, get Hansen up here,” I said.

  “Executive Officer informed. He’s on his way.”

  “Send Kreel a feed of what we’re seeing then give me some active sensors.”

  “Active sensors are still degraded to thirty-six percent.”

  “Do what you can,” I replied. “I want to make damn sure nobody’s sneaking up on us.” I doubted they could be, we were so far out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  A moment later, ship’s AI reported. “No anomalous objects detected.”

  “Ping with actives every hour or so from now on.”

  “Protocol set.”

  I didn’t like using active sensors as they announced to everyone we were here. At this point, however, I felt I had no choice. We couldn’t afford to be taken by surprise.

  Hansen hustled onto the bridge, smoothing his smart-cloth uniform before stepping to my side. “What’s up, Skipper?”

  “Something’s hitting the Whales.”

  “Any danger to us?”

  I shook my head. “This is five hours old, we’re far enough away, but I had Valiant do an active sensor sweep. We came up with nothing, so I’m pretty sure we’re fine for the moment.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Because you’re my XO. Would you rather I left you out of the loop until the situation is critical? You’re not just a warrant officer anymore, Lieutenant Commander. Being a commissioned officer means you work harder than anybody below you.”

  He turned to look deliberately at the holotank.

  “Keep me in the loop, Captain.”

  After a moment, my gaze followed his, easing the tension. Maybe I was getting too jumpy.

  “You can see the tactical plots,” I said. “The Whale main fleet is out of position.”

  “They’re standing still in the middle of a fight?”

  “They’re underway now. They were hit by surprise by these guys here,” I pointed at the cluster of red icons. “The Demons have launched a missile strike on a bunch of Whale installations.”

  In the holotank, over a hundred missile tracks curved toward as many targets.

  “That’s gonna hurt,” Hansen said. “Most of those seem to be nonmilitary vessels and installations, and if the missiles are nukes…”

  “Yeah.” Distance and shielding were the only good counters to nuclear weapons. No material I knew short of stardust could resist direct hits. “I hope they have good defenses. We just got a message from the Whales that warned us the system was in a state of war, so it’s not like they’re unprepared.”

  “Message?”

  I gestured toward a side screen where the translated text was still displayed.

  Hansen read it. “What’s this about nineteen days seven hours?”

  “No idea. You know, those missiles sure are going fast.”

  “Yeah. Way faster than something launched from the ground should be.”

  I zoomed in. “I’m running the plot on one of them, back to the origin. Let’s see…” After rewinding the record, I ran it forward again in slow motion until the missile’s engine flare appeared, but I couldn’t see a ship. It must be stealthed for a surprise attack. “Valiant, what’s this missile’s speed at launch?”

  “Approximately two thousand miles per second.”

  “Whoa. Pretty fast.” I rubbed my eyes. “Extrapolate its back-vector and plot.”

  “Plotted.”

  I zoomed out farther and farther, until the red line pointing opposite to the missile’s launch vector reached 300 AU in length—very near to the brown dwarf. “A stealthed Demon ship, cruising fast. Valiant, at that speed, about how long would it take to travel from Tartarus to Trinity-9?”

  “Disregarding acceleration time, roughly two hundred days, plus or minus ten percent.”

  I chewed my lip. “And how long until a ship, moving that fast, reaches Ellada?”

  “Approximately five days.”

  “We have to warn them,” Hansen said. “If the Demons hit the Whales, they’ll probably hit the humans too.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Why the hell not! They have five days.”

  “Two reasons. Figure them out.”

  Hansen scowled. “Why are you playing Academy games with me in the middle of a battle?”

  I sighed. “This battle is five light-hours old is why, and we’re days away from the gas giant even if we left now at maximum speed. We’re spectators.” I lowered my voice. “I know it bugs you that a guy twenty years younger is lecturing you, but you’re going to have to start thinking like a captain if you’re ever going to be one. Part of that is soaking up the theory as well as the practice.”

  “Me? A captain?” He laughed.

  “Why not? If Star Force confirms your rank, and if I have anything to say about it, you’ll get a shot at your own ship when we get back.”

  Hansen’s face smoothed. “I never thought of that.”

  “Well, I have. You’ve got the guts and you certainly have the experience, if you want it bad enough. Now, play along. Have you figured out the reasons I’m not bothering to warn the Elladans?”

  Turning back to the holotank, Hansen’s brow furrowed. “I guess if the Whales are really their allies, they’ll have sent a message
immediately. Either that, or the Elladans will simply see what’s happening, no doubt better than we can, as they’re closer.”

  “Hmm, okay. That’s one reason. What else?”

  After a moment of thought, Hansen shook his head. “No idea.”

  “Ellada is about two light-hours farther away from us than Trinity-9. In about,” I checked my chrono, “one hour and fifty minutes, give or take, I’m pretty sure we’ll detect the same sort of surprise attack aimed at them. So you see, no matter what we do, either these two races got it covered, or it’s too late for us to do anything.”

  “Sending the message might show our good will, though,” Hansen said.

  I thought about that. “Good point and good thinking, but I’d rather wait. We’re taking things at face value here. We don’t know that the bad guys are the Demon critters from Tartarus, or that the good guys are the ones that look like us, or like friendly sea creatures. You can’t judge an alien by his form. We don’t want to end up on the wrong side of things. I do not want to risk upsetting the wrong alien. The last thing we need in our current state of repair is another enemy.”

  Hansen looked skeptical and whispered, “Not taking sides might be easy for officers at the top like us, but the common crew will always have a strong opinion one way or the other—especially regarding a race that looks as human as we do. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of that, either.”

  “You’re probably right, and that’s an excellent observation.” My words weren’t empty praise. I was very happy my XO was starting to distinguish himself from the crew and think like an officer instead of merely a pilot. Sure, that was elitist, but if a leader doesn’t believe he is the best man for the job, why should he be in command?

  Of course, it didn’t pay to say that too loudly in front of subordinates.

  We turned back to the displays. “Let’s see how this goes. It’s going to tell us a lot about what we may be facing.”

  “Okay.” Hansen leaned forward to rest his hands on the holotank platform and put his nose against the smart glass that held the magnetized, glowing nanites inside. “The acceleration on their missiles is no better than ours, once you discount the speed of launch. I also don’t see any direct fire. If I were conducting a surprise attack like this, I’d have mounted some railguns and fired them at fixed targets before I ever launched the missiles.”