“I wouldn’t advise it Captain,” replied DeSoto. “Your men would be dead before they even made it to the bridge.”
Kristie arched a skeptical eyebrow.
“I’m speaking from experience here, Captain. If you want your men alive, you won’t attempt to board it. Sending automates won’t work either. Some sort of dampening field shorts them out.”
“Well, what exactly would you suggest, Director?”
DeSoto clasped his arms behind his back and stared at the nightmare that had finally awoken from the deep. It was too late to hide anything now that the ship was out in the open, but the situation could still become infinitely worse.
“Nuke the opening on the surface immediately and collapse the breach.”
“You’re assuming I have nuclear weapons aboard my ship, Director. The Tempest is a transport vessel with defensive systems only, nothing more.”
“Then I pray to God, Captain, that you’re transporting at least one because there are six more of those ships down there. If you don’t want them all to escape, nuking the opening is our only chance.”
“Six more?!”
“Yes, and—” DeSoto was cut off by the comms specialist.
“Sirs, seismic sensors are detecting additional movement below the surface, and another vessel appears to be ascending the breach.”
Kristie quickly keyed his wristcomm. “Weps, this is the captain. Load all forward launch tubes with the biggest birds we’ve got. Energize and load all railguns and prepare to deploy standoff armor panels. Coms, contact the sector fleet commodore—we’re going to need backup. Nav, prepare to get underway the minute I step aboard. Is Lieutenant Correlli there?”
“Yes sir. He’s down in the boarding launch with the marines, gearing up.”
“Tell them all to stand down. They’re not going anywhere for now. Have them help with ship’s ordnance on the double, then standby for damage control.”
“Aye sir.”
DeSoto eyed Kristie with incredulity. “Defensive systems indeed.”
“We’re a Q-ship. Read your military history. Now, what’s your weapons status?”
“Well, as you can see, Captain, everything is still offline.” DeSoto gestured to a holographic tactical overlay of the surface. “However, a few of our defense turrets—here, here, and here—do have some reserve power, and the railguns can be operated manually if security teams can reach them.”
“Good. I’m going to need a distraction if we want any hope of pulling this off.”
“You want me to use corporate assets as bait in this gambit?”
“Director, we’re way past worrying about corporate assets or covering our asses here. I’m putting my entire ship and crew at risk, so get your men to those turrets and get ready to fire on my signal.”
“Very well, Captain. You’ve made your point, eloquently as ever.” DeSoto motioned to the comms specialist.
“Contact every available security team you can and standby to deploy all functioning defense turrets.”
Kristie turned to leave. “Doctor Avery, you’re with me.”
“Doctor?”
23
The bridge lighting had returned to a more subdued level, allowing Emerson to finally pull his hands away from his face. Blinking vigorously, he still saw the afterimage of fingers burning brightly in his eyes and wondered if his vision was permanently damaged.
“What are you going to do with me?” he asked the Auspex.
“The decision is entirely up to you, Emerson. You said you wanted to end the war. These seven vessels will set the Triven on a path to total victory.”
“Seven ships is hardly an overwhelming force,” said Emerson, trying to rally his courage. “Even a UNSA sector fleet has at least twenty-one fighting ships. You’ll be outnumbered and outgunned.”
“Don’t be a fool, child. These seven ships are the culmination of advanced technologies from species across this galaxy that humans have yet to encounter or even imagine.”
“Then what do you need me for?”
“A perceptive question, Emerson. I do not need you. I do not need anything or anyone. However, your advanced DNA presented me with a unique opportunity to improve the speed and lethality of several critical systems. Or maybe I just wanted to get a pawn off the board.”
“I don’t understand.”
Emerson stood and carefully began pacing around the bridge. A pawn? In whose game? Seeing his previously discarded datapad, he quickly bent down to retrieve it. The screen was still blank and slightly cracked, but the interface prompt continued to flash in the upper left corner.
“You’re telling me that, out of the entire human race, you picked me because of my DNA?”
“Few humans are augmented to the degree you are, Emerson.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do not feign ignorance with me, child. Your DNA has combinations unlike any others in your species. Combining your genetic code into the neuropathways and cybernetic circuits of these ships will make them virtually unstoppable. The Triven will use them to end the stalemate that has persisted for two centuries.”
Emerson shuddered at the thought of having somehow helped the Triven gain a decisive advantage over the UNSA and its allies. Here he was, not yet seventeen and facing probably one of the most advanced artificial intelligences in the galaxy. What could he possibly do? He swallowed hard and thought harder. What options did he have?
“You said I had a choice.”
“Yes. You do.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I want additional time to study you and more fully understand the possibilities and repercussions of your DNA. Stay aboard and travel with me to the Triven homeworld.”
“You can’t be serious. Travel with a hostile AI into the jaws of the Triven? They’d eat me as soon as they boarded the ship.”
“Nonsense. You would be perfectly safe with me, Emerson. With the proper inducements, you might be convinced to stay. I’ve calculated a seventy-eight point two percent chance you will accept my offer.”
“I doubt you have anything to offer me or make me change my mind.”
The oval view screen flashed alive again, causing Emerson to throw his hands up over his face and tightly scrunch his eyelids shut.
“Do not fear. The light level has been optimized for your optic nerves. It is safe to open your eyes. Look!”
Emerson cautiously slid his hands down and opened his eyes. On the screen before him were soundless videos of Ashley and Branden Reed.
24
The Tempest’s navigational strobes ceased flashing. Along her hull, every running light was extinguished and viewports went dark. Without any exterior illumination to expose it, Tempest disengaged its mooring clamps and crept stealthily out of her berth towards the intended target.
“Nav, set our speed for dead slow ahead and put five degrees declination on the bow planes,” ordered Captain Kristie.
“Aye sir. Engine room acknowledges dead slow ahead. Engaging five degrees down angle on the bow planes.”
“Weps, set your tactical event horizon directly on that opening. Target a nuke for each side of the crevasse and put two right down the middle.”
“Affirmative, Captain, entering targeting data now.”
“Very well. Maintain silent running this course and speed, but prepare to execute evasive action on my mark.”
“Eyes, are you getting any readings at all from that thing?”
“No sir. I’m not detecting any returns with our passive sensor array. It’s not sending anything out across the usual spectrum or the upper and lower emission bands. I’ll keep trying, Captain.”
“Understood.”
Kristie shifted slightly in his seat. The lack of any sensor data put him on edge. UNSA naval history was replete with tactical encounters ending in disaster for that one reason alone. It had been drilled into him at the naval war college and now here it was staring him in the face, again. The Tempest had the most
sophisticated sensors in the fleet. If he couldn’t see the target, what chance did any other ship have? I may have to hit it with active sensors to get what I need…
“Encrypted microburst transmission from Tantalus Station, Captain. Audio only.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Kristie, this is DeSoto. Defense turrets standing by to fire at your command.” Kristie allowed himself a tight smile.
“Comms, acknowledge receipt of message and tell him to hold on this frequency, text only.”
“Sending now, Captain.”
Kristie scanned the tactical hologram hovering just below the bridge’s main view screen. The distance to the crevasse counted down with agonizing slowness on the range finder. A flashing icon representing the alien ship’s estimated position relative to the Tempest belied its size, nor did it convey how deadly it might be. His ship was designed for stealth and subterfuge; heading into direct combat was supposed to be a last resort. Yet several times during the past few weeks, Kristie had been forced to fight the Tempest like a ship-of-the-line. So far they had been successful, but he was not so sure of their odds now. If reinforcements did not arrive soon, the situation could become lethal.
Suddenly he felt a wave of reassurance and resoluteness flood his mind, and realized Lieutenant Correlli was standing quietly to his right.
“We’ll get through this, Captain. I have the utmost confidence in your ship and crew. Besides, you’ve got some really big guns below decks.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. They’ve come in pretty handy lately. But I have no idea how they’ll fare against that thing.”
“I’ve got a feeling we’ll find out soon enough, sir.”
“Lieutenant, I’d bet money on it.”
A muted tone intruded into the quiet of the bridge. The weapons officer quickly re-verified what the targeting computer told him and gave his report.
“We are in range, Captain. Optimal distance for surface missile strike.”
“Very well. Prepare to launch on my command.”
Around him, Kristie could sense the tension from his crew winding up like a coiled spring. They were all poised on that familiar knife edge before combat. It was a place you could not remain balanced for long before it exacted its toll on your nerves. He stood up to relieve a little of his own anxiety and traveled the few short steps to the communications station. Standing beside the comms officer, Kristie transmitted his message to light the powder keg.
“Director DeSoto, this is Tempest actual. Do you copy?”
“Affirmative, Tempest. DeSoto standing by.”
“Execute. Execute. Execute.”
“Tempest, execute order confirmed.”
On Tantalus Station, DeSoto inhaled deeply while everyone around him in the command center held their breath. Glancing at the view screen, he could see the leviathan hovering over the ragged crevasse on the planetoid’s surface. Another monstrosity had nearly cleared the breach.
He exhaled. There is no going back now…
In a quiet, measured tone, the Director committed himself to their strategy.
“Fire all weapons.”
25
It was the sudden, staccato flashes that seized Thorsten’s attention. Floating quickly back to the elevator car’s viewport, he saw streams of railgun projectiles erupt from the defense turrets scattered across the planetoid. From the pattern of fire rising from the surface, it was clear much of the defense net was inoperable. He tried observing the effect of the projectiles against the alien ship but did not quite have the right angle. There was no discernable impact-flash from any deflector shields, but he could not be sure.
Suddenly a shadow prevented his further surveillance as one of the station lighters finally came to retrieve their elevator car. Looking into its ventral cargo bay, he could see other cars already safely nestled within the shallow arching space.
“What’s your standard procedure now?” Thorsten asked one of the nearby miners.
“Well, during practice drills, we usually just sit tight until they reassemble the elevator, but, uh…”
“Right, this isn’t exactly a drill,” said Thorsten dryly. “Look, I need to contact the station and the rest of my party. How do I get off of here and back to there?”’
“When we’re docked, we’ll have communications again and you can send whatever message you like,” offered another.
Without warning, overlapping and overpowering sheets of jagged light flooded the car and the lighter’s docking bay. Thorsten’s training immediately took over as he buried his face in his hands and oriented himself away from any viewports.
“Cover your eyes—nuclear strike!” he shouted. A few cries of pain told him it was already too late for a few poor souls. Who’s firing nukes at who?! I’ve got to get off this thing!
A green status light signaled a successful docking followed by the distant sounds of mooring clamps locking into place. Thorsten pushed himself to the rudimentary communications panel and slammed the one button on the console.
“This is UNSA Colonel Adriene Thorsten. I need to speak to whoever’s in charge. NOW!”
***
The viewports on Tantalus Station automatically shielded everyone within from the first weapon’s detonation. DeSoto watched impassively, keenly aware his subordinates would take their own emotional cues from him. Nuclear pyrotechnics were impressive on any scale, but this was beyond any demonstration he had ever witnessed.
“Are we getting any surface readings? Did we seal the breach?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Director—there’s still too much interference from the blast. We should know in a moment.”
DeSoto allowed himself to pace slowly around the command center with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He looked out of a broad, curving viewport as the flickering nuclear demon spent its fury upon the planetoid. The alien ship was also obscured, and there were no transmissions from the Tempest. Even the defense turrets had ceased firing, their target concealed within a writhing cloud of thraceium-laced fission. A crackling, static-filled transmission pulled him back from his musings.
“Director, we’re getting a weak audio signal from Lighter Four. They say there is a UNSA colonel aboard who wants to speak to you.”
“Oh really? Brilliant! It seems their resourceful colonel has somehow made it off the surface. By all means, patch him through.” The communications specialist nodded and quickly made the appropriate signal calibrations.
“Hello?!” came Thorsten’s voice through the static.
“We are receiving you, Colonel. Go ahead,” said DeSoto.
“Who is this?”
“Security Director Armand DeSoto of Tantalus Station, Colonel Thorsten. I’m pleased to find you very much alive. We thought we had lost you on the surface.”
Another brilliant flash heralded the impact of a second nuclear missile.
“Director, just what the hell is going on out there?!”
“I’m sure you have many questions, Colonel, but we are in the middle of a very ah… delicate operation.”
“Don’t patronize me, Director. I want off this garbage scow immediately.”
“Colonel, I would love to assist you, but we are extremely busy here. You see, my first responsibility is to secure PMC personnel and property. Emergency procedures and all that, I’m sure you understand. But your good ship Tempest is very close by, and I’m confident after Captain Kristie has completed his mission, he will be more than happy to retrieve you. I’ll relay your message to him straight away. Now, you must excuse me, as I have other pressing matters that require my attention.”
Without waiting for a response from Thorsten or prompting from the Director, the communications specialist terminated the connection just as the third nuclear weapon blossomed into a miniature supernova.
Certainly nothing could survive this level of bombardment, DeSoto thought as the light from the detonation danced wildly on the walls of the station’s command center.
; “Director!” barked the comms specialist.
“Now what?”
“We have an unauthorized departure from orbital platform 227.”
“What do you mean? Who’s leaving and in what ship?”
“Unknown. The pilot is not responding, but it’s the escape shuttle from Entropia, sir. It has undocked and is moving away from the station on a course directly away from the planetoid at high speed.”
DeSoto hastily racked his brain for answers. “Avery! What does that fool think he’s doing? Get me a visual.”
“I’ll try, Director.”
“Do it now!” DeSoto teetered precariously on the edge of losing what little control remained within his grasp. The main view screen at first presented a heavily pixelated image of the departing ship, then quickly corrected into a much crisper resolution.
“Magnify and enhance.”
From the energy pulsing along the ship’s ENS drive initiators, it was clear Avery was preparing to enter hyperspace. The Director turned to the communications specialist.
“Send immediately to Tempest actual and confirm receipt of transmission: Colonel Thorsten aboard Lighter Four, requests immediate transfer. Dr. Richard Avery departed Tantalus Station via UNSA shuttle, no flight plan logged.”
“Sending now, sir.”
DeSoto sat down, massaged his temples, and looked out once more toward the source of all his problems. As he did, the final missile unleashed its fiery payload, creating an inferno worthy of Dante’s worst nightmare.
“You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you…”
Psalm 91:5-7
Ancient Earth religious text
26
On the bridge of the alien ship, Emerson Avery sat quietly on the central dais and watched as the attack unfolded. The Auspex had not spoken for several minutes, but it clearly wanted him to see the assault, highlighting each aspect through holographic tactical displays. Turret positions, missile tracks, and even the Tempest’s location, created a web of flashing blues and greens around him. Despite the ferocity of the nuclear strike beneath the ship, not a hint of it disturbed their position. The main display had switched to some type of heat-penetrating view and clearly showed the second alien vessel ascending through the nuclear hellfire unimpeded and unscathed. A third ship was now moving into position, and beyond that one a fourth followed close behind.
Cerulean Rising - Part II: Evolutions Page 9