The White Fleet (Blood on the Stars Book 7)

by Jay Allan

  “I was very happy to receive your communication. It had been so long, I was afraid you…”

  “Things have been…hectic. I’m afraid some matters have taken considerably longer than I might have hoped.” And I wanted to wait and see if you had a low enough profile before I decided to let you live. He didn’t say that, but she heard it in her head.

  “I understand completely…Citizen.” She understood better than she let on. She didn’t have the slightest doubt that if her identity as a Sector Nine agent had become public, he’d have sacrificed her to the mob in an instant. The year or more she’d spent in fear and deprivation, waiting to see if she would survive…it had been a test of sorts. And she had passed.

  “We’re forming a new organization dedicated to protecting the interests of the state. The People’s Protectorate. I’m actively recruiting individuals I believe have the ability to undertake certain missions, endeavors vital to the new Union’s security.”

  Ah…The People’s Protectorate. She’d heard whispers of the new organization before, mostly hints that its purpose was to root out any remnants of the old regime, and anyone acting against the interests of the Union’s workers. At least, that was what people were supposed to think. But she knew better than to believe what she heard. He’s building a new Sector Nine. This is what I’ve been waiting for…

  “I am ready to help any way I can.”

  “I was sure you would be.” Villieneuve paused, and he smiled across the desk at her. “Desiree, I never had the chance to tell you this, but reviewing what survived of the files and reports, it appears you did an outstanding job with the Krillians. You got the Krillians to attack with no support from us, financial or otherwise.” Another pause. “The fact that the Palatians were too…pigheaded…to call back their ships from the front in time is not your fault. You did everything I sent you to do, and far faster than I’d imagined possible.”

  “Thank you, Min…Citizen.”

  Villieneuve smiled again. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” He looked down at himself, at the disheveled clothing he wore. “At least sooner than you will to dressing like a factory laborer. But we do what we must, do we not?”

  “Absolutely, Citizen.” She smiled, too. The discussion was heading exactly where she’d hoped it would.

  “Desiree, I have something in mind, a plan for which I laid some of the framework before the…change of government. It is not unlike what you did with the Krillians, though I’m afraid it is far broader in scope.”

  “I am with you. One hundred percent. You just have to tell me what you want me to do.”

  Villieneuve nodded. “I knew you would feel that way, Desiree. I am sorry you were on your own for so long. These are…unsettled…times.”

  “Yes, they certainly are. So, what can I do?”

  “I want you to direct an ongoing operation to undermine a government. It’s a longer-term project, one with many moving parts. It is complex, and I’m afraid it will be dangerous as well, but it is also one that offers great rewards. Unfortunately, it is not focused on a single individual, like your mission to the Krillians. It involves manipulating many individual politicians, some with debts or secrets we already control, others who will have to be enticed into the web in one way or another.”

  “It sounds like a major undertaking, Citizen. I would be honored to be a part of it.”

  “You’re not going to be a part of it, Desiree…”

  Her stomach tensed. Had Villieneuve called her here out of some perverse sadism, after all, instead of to recall her to duty? Or had she said something, done something that might have angered him?

  “You’re going to run the whole thing, from top to bottom.”

  His words were a total surprise, and it took a few seconds for them to register. Finally, she managed to reply. “I don’t know what to say…Citizen. I am very grateful for this opportunity.”

  “You don’t even know where I’m sending you…or which government you will be undermining.”

  She didn’t care. Anything was better than scraping by as she’d been doing, skulking in obscurity with barely enough resources to survive. She’d go anywhere Villieneuve sent her, take on any mission he gave her…as long as it got her back on the inside.

  “This mission is of great important, Desiree. I am trusting you with one of the three or four most crucial positions we’ve got.” He paused, and a hint of menace slipped into his tone. “You cannot fail. You will have substantially greater resources than you did on the Krillian operation, both in terms of personnel and finances. But, you must get it done, whatever it takes.” He stated across the desk. “Do you understand me, Desiree?”

  She understood completely. She could feel the sweat beading on her back, the spark of fear rekindled inside her. Villieneuve was giving her a major opportunity, but the deal was the same as it had always been. Succeed…and reap great rewards. Or fail…and die.

  “I understand.”

  “Good. You have my complete confidence. Go, now, and wrap up any loose ends. You leave in two days.”

  “Yes, sir.” She stood up, turning toward the door, but then she stopped and looked back.

  “Where am I going? What government will I be working to bring down?”

  Villieneuve had looked down at the desk, but now his eyes darted up and met hers.

  “You’re going to Megara, of course. You’re going to destabilize the Confederation government.”

  Chapter Twelve

  CFS Repulse

  Zed-4 System

  8 Million Kilometers from CFS Dauntless

  Year 315 AC

  “Commodore, we’re picking up a signal from Dauntless’s patrol.”

  Sara Eaton turned and looked over at her communications officer. “On the main line, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, Commodore.”

  A few seconds later, the bridge speakers crackled to life. “Dauntless, this is Ensign Palich calling from patrol one.”

  Eaton could tell at once something was wrong. The pilot’s voice was tense. And in a rookie mistake, he hadn’t stated any details in his report, nothing but his ID. He was acting like he was on some kind of intraship line instead of sending a message from almost two light minutes from his mother ship. Repulse was on the far edge of the fleet, which meant a turnaround time of just under one minute for communications, rather than just over three minutes for a message to return from Dauntless. If something was wrong, Repulse was far better positioned to intervene.

  She flipped the switch on her own headset, and said, “Dauntless patrol one, this is Commodore Eaton on Repulse. Report your situation at once.”

  She turned toward her tactical officer. “Commander, let’s get Gold Falcon squadron ready…just in case we need them.” Eaton didn’t expect any real trouble, at least nothing that rattled her battle-hardened sensibilities, but she was a big believer in being ready for anything.

  “Gold Falcon squadron, report to launch bay. Repeat, Gold Falcon squadron, report to launch bay.” The officer turned around and looked back toward Eaton. “Gold Falcon commander confirms order, Commodore.”

  Eaton just nodded. Then she leaned back in her chair and waited for a response from the patrol.

  “Commodore, this is Ensign Palich, serial number A456D711, in temporary command of patrol one.” Nothing else.

  Eaton shook her head. My God, this kid is a rookie. How did someone so wet behind the ears end up commanding a patrol? It didn’t seem at all like Barron to send out someone so raw, and even less like Atara Travis, who most likely had selected the pilots for the mission.

  She shook her head. He still hadn’t reported what was happening. “Ensign, report your situation at once, and in detail.” She didn’t snap, not exactly, but she put a little more oomph behind the command.

  She glanced over at the chronometer. Dauntless would be receiving the first signal in a few seconds. But it would take more than a minute and a half for any response to reach the fighters…and given the ap
parent lack of experience of Ensign Palich, she imagined an exchange might go on for quite some time if she didn’t intervene.

  “Falcons ready, Commodore.”

  Eaton was a bit surprised by the tactical officer’s report. The Gold Falcons were her elite squadron, but they’d outdone even themselves. Their response time was bordering on the impossible.

  “Launch Gold Falcon Squadron. They are to move toward patrol one’s location, maximum possible thrust.” She didn’t want to exaggerate whatever was happening out there, but she always believed it was better to overreact a bit than get taken by surprise. And, it was going to take time to get assistance to those pilots if they were in trouble, so the sooner that help started out, the better.

  “Gold Falcons launching, Commodore.” A few seconds later, Eaton could feel the gentle vibrations from the catapults. It was a softer sensation on Repulse than it had been on Intrepid. Her new flagship was larger, and outmassed her old vessel by a good million tons.

  Perhaps half a minute later: “Gold Falcon squadron launched.”

  Eaton just nodded. Then, the next signal from the patrol came in. “Commodore Eaton, we detected…some kind of signal coming from the gas giant up ahead. Captain Stockton…he went forward to investigate. We can’t raise him, Commodore, and we haven’t heard from him at all since he got close to the planet.”

  Eaton felt her tension increase. It was one thing for some rookie pilots to get into trouble. That could be anything—mechanical failure, an overreaction to natural phenomena. But Jake Stockton was the best pilot in the fleet. If he was having some kind of problem…

  It’s probably just a system failure. Her discipline slammed down in place. There was no cause to panic, at least not yet. But, why hasn’t he contacted the fleet, or the other ships of the patrol?

  “Gold Falcons, continue to location of patrol one, maximum thrust. Further orders will be available when you get there.”

  “Yes, Commodore.”

  “Activate tender one, prepare to launch.”

  “Tender one crew, to the bay.”

  Eaton sat quietly as her tactical officer carried out her commands, listening as Dauntless’s reply to the patrol’s initial communique reached Repulse.

  Eaton turned toward the tactical station. “Advise Dauntless we have responded to the patrol’s communique and dispatched assistance.”

  “Yes, Commodore.”

  She looked back at the main display. Most likely, Stockton’s fighter had just broken down…but there was no room for carelessness, not hundreds of lightyears from home.

  “Bring Repulse to yellow alert, Lieutenant.” She studied the locations of the ships in the fleet. Repulse was well out on the flank. If Stockton had found something…her ship was the closest. “And launch tender one as soon as it is ready.”

  * * *

  Stockton watched as the data continued to come in from his partially operational scanners. It was spotty, but his momentum was bringing him closer to the…whatever it was…and that increased the clarity of data. He’d done the calculations twice. He was going to come within one hundred kilometers of the thing, and that was practically a collision course in terms of space travel.

  He moved his hands over the controls, doing what he could to focus the scanning power he did have. He thought about shutting the scanners down entirely, saving his fuel for life support, but he just kept working the controls. He had enough fuel to get back to the fleet, and he could use that to give him heat and air for a good while. Long enough for help to arrive, at least.

  He watched as the distance counted down on his screen. Two thousand kilometers…nineteen hundred…eighteen hundred. He was still too far out for visuals on the contact itself, at least with his fighter’s limited optics, but he was getting clearer data on the size and power figures. Whatever it was, it wasn’t more than a hundred meters in length. Less, he realized as he crept closer. But the power figures were way above anything he’d expected. Whatever energy source that thing had, it was far more powerful than anything Confederation science could cram into so small a space.

  Antimatter…

  That was a guess. Stockton didn’t have scanners capable of analyzing the trace radiation completely enough to determine if its source was an atomic reaction…or antimatter annihilation. But, somehow, he just knew. The pre-Cataclysm empire had mastered the production of antimatter, that much was well known. He was still stabbing in the dark, but now he was fairly certain he’d stumbled on a bit of old tech…one that appeared to be at least partially operational.

  “Captain…read…”

  His comm unit came to life, mostly static, with a few words he was able to pick out. “Can you clean that up at all?” he snapped to the AI.

  “Already clarifying and enhancing signal as it comes in.”

  So, that unintelligible blast of noise had been the communication after the AI worked on it. Just great.

  Stockton reached out to the communication controls. The scanner interference near the planet was significant as well, and he figured he’d better give his prospective rescuers an idea where he was. He didn’t figure his own message would come through any clearer, but they really didn’t need to know what he was saying, as long as they could trace the comm beam back to him.

  He put his hand to his headset, but just before he tapped it, his screen flashed, the brightness almost blinding. Another energy spike? Whatever it was, it had been strong. For an instant, he even thought the artifact had attacked. But he was still there, and he suspected if the device had wanted him dead, he would be.

  He wondered if he’d been scanned again. The last beam had been powerful enough to blow out half the electronics in his fighter. He looked around, checking each system in turn. If another scanner beam had hit his ship, there was no new damage. So, probably not a scan…

  He sat for a minute, trying to figure out just what he’d seen. Then, he shook his head. It didn’t matter right now. There would be time later to analyze whatever his battered systems had managed to record, but the first step was getting back to Dauntless.

  “This is Captain Stockton. My location is…” He glanced down at the screen. “…102.340.119. I have found a contact I believe to be some kind of artifact, likely old tech. It appears to be operational. I repeat, it appears to be operational.” He paused, then added, “It has made no indications of being hostile.” He doubted anyone was getting much beyond the general direction of the comm beam, but if his words got through, he didn’t want to cause a panic. He was still nervous, of course, and he certainly considered the device a potential threat. But his nerves had calmed considerably as time had passed.

  “…Stockton…coming…minutes.”

  He still couldn’t make out more than a few words, but the signal was stronger than before, and that meant the ship transmitting it was getting closer. He had his scanner concentrated on the artifact, but now he switched it back to wide area. The interference was affecting the sensors as much as his comm, but after a few seconds, he picked up a contact incoming. No, multiple contacts.

  It looked like a group of fighters. For an instant, he thought his rookies had decided to follow him in, but then he realized there were too many contacts. It looked like a whole squadron, and a larger ship of some kind behind the fighters.

  The retrieval boat, he realized. With a full squadron escort. Whoever had gotten his patrol’s call for help wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Raptor…is Gold Falcon squadr…here to assist.” The signal was beginning to clear up as the contacts moved closer. He could see them shift their vectors slightly, and he realized they had locked onto his comm beam and were following it in.

  Gold Falcon…they’re on Repulse. Of course! Commodore Eaton’s ship is the closest. She must have responded before the call even reached Dauntless.

  “Gold Falcons, this is Raptor. My thrusters are disabled. Exert extreme caution. I am approximately eight hundred kilometers from a contact I believe to be an old tech artifact.�
��

  “Archer here, sir. Sit tight, Raptor. We’re on our way, along with a tender to tow your bird back to base. We’ll keep our eyes out for your artifact.”

  “Roger that, Archer.”

  Stockton let out a relieved sigh. He hadn’t been too worried, at least not once he’d realized the artifact didn’t seem like it was going to blow him to bits. But knowing help was almost there left him free to feel some excitement at the find, and curiosity about the artifact.

  This is what we came to find, after all…

  * * *

  “I’ve told you everything, sir.” Several times. Stockton held back the last remark. He’d always been a bit of a maverick, but even his instincts called on him to keep silent with what would undoubtedly come across as a snotty remark to the admiral. “The scanner beam was powerful, strong enough to blow out half my systems. I lost engine control, along with most of my own scanning capacity.”

  “But you weren’t attacked at all.”

  “No, sir.” It hadn’t sounded like a question, but Stockton answered anyway.

  “Any thoughts?” Barron looked out across the conference table. Atara Travis was there, and Sara Eaton, Cilian Globus—every key officer in the fleet. The first contact with what appeared to be a substantial artifact was the most crucial moment in the fleet’s journey to date.

  “It has to be an imperial artifact. What else could it be?” Travis looked over at Barron. “I don’t have an alternative hypothesis.” She angled her head, looking at the others. “Does anyone else?”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you, Atara,” Barron said, after no one else responded. “So, the key questions are, what is it? What, other than basic chance, explains why it’s still working, when all other old tech we’ve found was in some state of inoperability or decay? Is it dangerous?” He paused. “We picked it up, and that didn’t trigger any sort of attack.” The artifact had activated its scanning beam several more times since fleet units had put it under close surveillance, but nothing resembling a weapon had been detected yet.