Warborg - Star Panther

by Olson, Ry

  The FTL field generators came to life at almost full power. Martin’s mouth fell open and his eyes bulged. “What the hell are you doing! Jesus Christ, why don’t you just hang out a damned neon sign that says ‘Nuke Here’! Shit!” He tried to take control of the systems, they didn’t respond. “OH FUCK ME! Prowler!” A drone flashed through. “Oh shit.” The drone didn’t self destruct and Martin sagged in absolute confusion. A few seconds later they initiated their jump and were on their way. The yacht simulation started and Martin stared wide eyed at Prowler who was contentedly grooming in the co-pilot’s seat. Martin slumped into the command seat still glaring at Prowler.

  “Ok, ya smug little shit, what was that all about?” Martin groused. A display lit up on the side console with two flat lines on it. One was labeled Koth frigate and the other Star Panther. In slow motion the two deflected in unison as the FTL fields took shape, they were precise duplicates through out the entire generation. Martin rested his chin in his hand as he studied the curves form a few times. Then the Star Panther line was labeled 10% power and the process started again. There were noticeable deviations from the Koth FTL curve. Martin smiled at Prowler, “Okay, I’m sorry. I never realized how the power inflow would effect the forming of the field even if the final results were the same. Very good, little fella.” Martin contemplated his still slightly shaking hands, then laughed. “We’re totally invisible to the drones now.” He had a thought. “Do you have a regen curve for the frigate?” Prowler looked at him for a second and a single curve replaced the pair in the display. Martin gave Prowler a relaxed smile, “Very good. I’m going to get some real sleep. You’ve got the Panther.” Prowler blinked then went back to grooming as Martin headed for the master’s chamber.

  . . .

  “It’s a friggin’ freeway,” Martin muttered as he watched yet another group of Koth ships pass through. Man there’s some heavy ships headed somewhere. He thought as the FTL signatures rolled down his display. “And we’re only seeing the ones doing a field regen within our detection range. Something’s going on little fella.” Martin glanced at another display. We can run in cold silence for another three hours, that should get us well clear of the Koth traffic. Martin thought with a smile, marveling at one of the most exotic and unique features of the Star Panther. They were running on pure inertia with all the FTL systems either shutdown or barely idling. “We can’t keep this up for long fella, but while it lasts a firefly makes more noise than we do.” Another group of Koth passed by. “Geez, we should put up a toll booth, we’d be rich in a week.” Martin chuckled hollowly, worrying what all this traffic meant. He studied a large holodisplay. By our best estimate we should clear the drones in about three days. “Until we do, we can’t do shit warning Command about all this Koth movement,” Martin sighed. And I bet in three days Command will know all about it. It was a sour thought. One of the Koth FLT signatures caught his eye. That’s a heavy barrage ship. Holy shit, they’re after a planetary installation somewhere. “Prowler, extrapolate their path into our space. Let’s see if we can tell where they’re going.”

  Martin’s stomach sunk as he contemplated the display Prowler produced. “The Merced system . . . Are you sure?” ‘90% probability’ flashed in the corner of the display. “Travel time from here to the Merced system?” The 90% probability was replaced with ‘180 hours’. Martin felt a sense of panic. “How far from the Merced system to Earth in travel time?” The ‘20 hours’ that flashed on the screen seemed to mock his sense of reality. My God the Merced system is the last main defense installation between Koth space and Earth. It’s a big hard target, but if the Koth knock it out there’s nothing to stop them from hitting Earth. “Prowler, we gotta warn them.” Martin fought down his despair as he watched several drones bounce through and to accentuate his desperation another small group of Koth ships passed through. “Prowler, in three hours we should be clear of this Koth traffic. If we change direction and go like hell, what’s our best time and course to get clear of these damn drones?” ‘36 hours’ flashed on the screen.

  28: The Warning

  Commander Stratton drummed his fingers on the desktop as he again looked at the clock. Two more hours of this crap. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he half heartedly scrolled through the operational status report on the Merced units. Third shift Officer on Duty, what a load of bullshit. A flunky straight out of boot could do this job. The vidphone buzzed disturbing his thoughts. He stared at it sourly and let it buzz a couple more times before tapping the answer button in disgust. The latrine must be backed up again . . . so we better notify the Officer on Duty, he’ll know what to do. A young Lieutenant’s face appeared. “Yes, what is it?” Stratton sighed with barely concealed animosity.

  “Sir, we are receiving a high priority message on the encrypted command channel requesting direct communication with the Officer on Duty.

  Stratton typed out a quick sequence on a side console. Instantly the source and authorizations appeared. He did a quick double take when he saw it was from The Star Panther and Major Martin Morgan. “I’ve got it.” He tapped the disconnect button on the vidphone before the Lieutenant could reply.

  Stratton studied the console for a several seconds remembering the humiliation he suffered because of this warborg. As he watched the incoming message terminated. A cold smile formed on his face. “Rot in hell you bastard. No one’s coming to save you this time.” Laughing he tapped the cancel and delete keys. He looked at the clock. “Maybe this job does have an upside.”

  . . .

  “What a jerk,” the Lieutenant seethed under his breath when Stratton vanished from his vidphone. He looked at the message header in wonder. Major Martin Morgan from the Star Panther. . . wow! Too cool. His wondrous smile collapsed when the incoming message terminated without warning. By reflex he locked the holding queue and was stunned to see the delete command come through a second later. “This can’t be right,” he hissed. With practiced precision he bounced the message to another queue . . . then another . . . and yet another, with the delete command in hot pursuit like a guided missile. “MAJOR!!”

  . . .

  The Major in charge of the central Merced communications office watched over her ward with an easy pride knowing they were good. Another relaxed shift with a good bunch of troops. She smiled. She heard one of the junior officers on a side console say; “This can’t be right.” Then he started typing like crazy. She started to stand up when he yelled for her. She rushed over. “What!”

  “I’ve got a big, really big, data stream . . . on the secure command . . . channel.” He replied in broken pieces as he raced to keep ahead of the delete command. “It terminated . . . abnormally. Stratton . . . never even opened it . . . He just sent . . . a delete . . . command.”

  She made her decision in a split second. This officer had always shown excellent judgment. She pushed in front of the startled enlisted troop on the next console and typed in a quick sequence. “Bounce it through 247.163.177.19.233/que/echo, Lieutenant.”

  He did as he was told and grimaced as it took a split second longer than usual to bounce back out of that queue. Two bounces later he sagged when the delete command entered a queue before he could clear the message. “Damn.” He slumped in his seat, brushing a bead of sweat from his temple. “I guess it was inevitable . . . I just wish I knew what Major Martin Morgan wanted to report. I hope we’ll know someday.”

  The Major felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Still carrying a grudge are we Stratton. “You tried Lieutenant. Why don’t you take a break.”

  The Lieutenant gave a tired nod of resigned thanks and headed for the break room, grumbling under his breath.

  The Major casually went to her office and quietly closed the door behind her. With a calmness she didn’t feel, she sat down and pulled up the queue she had given the Lieutenant. She sighed in relief as a mirror image of the message showed up. With careful keystrokes she renamed the message and put it back into its original seque
nce. She opened the encrypted file and studied the data. She couldn’t read the actual contents of the file but long experience told her it was a huge chunk of sensor data.

  She tapped out a number on her vidphone. Her commanding officer answered after the second buzz, he was clearly getting ready to come in. “Mark, I have a situation . . . you need to be here now.”

  He studied her strained features for just a moment. “On the way.” And vanished from the vidphone.

  . . .

  Admiral Silverberg studied the two apprehensive faces in his vidphones. “I’ve already mobilized the entire battalion. What do you make of this message?”

  “Take it serious Admiral, damned serious,” Admiral Chinn replied. “This man is nobodies fool, if he says you’re going to get hit hard and heavy, count on it.”

  “From the look of the sensor data logs he sent I’d be scrambling for re-enforcement as we speak.” Briton added. “He saw only the tip of the iceberg . . . and he knew it.”

  Silverberg sighed. “It’s already in work. What do you make of all that other noise around him?”

  Briton gave a tight smile. “Reconnaissance drones, Admiral.” He hesitated, “Literally thousands of them. We’ve never seen them except in ones or twos.”

  Chinn smiled. “Only the Star Panther could have survived in that mess, and probably only with Major Morgan in charge.”

  “And a lot of help from Prowler, I suspect.” Briton added with a tight smile.

  “No further word from him?” Briton asked quietly.

  Silverberg shook his head. “No, sorry. Just him telling someone off screen they had company and the abnormal message termination.”

  “Talking to Prowler, no doubt.” Admiral Chinn looked a little worried.

  “Who’s Prowler?” Admiral Silverberg’s curiosity finally got the best of him.

  “Oh sorry, that’s his AI co-pilot.” Briton nodded.

  “He’s a cat.” Chinn smiled.

  “Whaaa . . .” Admiral Silverberg started to speak when he was interrupted by his secretary on the intercom. He tapped the connect button.

  “Commander Stratton is here, Sir.” The voice came through the audio only intercom.

  “Send him in, thank you.” Silverberg disconnected.

  A moment later a disheveled Commander Stratton was escorted in by two security officers. He looked around the office and curled his lip slightly at the sight of Chinn and Briton. “Commander Stratton reporting as ordered, Sir.” He snapped a salute at Silverberg.

  Admiral Silverberg felt his bile rise. I can’t believe I allowed myself to take the piss ant as a favor to his uncle. “Commander, early this morning you received a high priority communication from one Major Morgan. Why did you delete it before you even looked at it?”

  Stratton stared straight ahead, glaring at the wall over Silverberg’s head in silence.

  “Very well, have it your way Commander.” Silverberg hissed, his face slowly turning red. “If it weren’t for the quick work of some communications personnel, work taken at their own risk I might add, we would never have known what was in Major Morgan’s communication.” The Admiral rubbed his forehead in anger. “Major Morgan has not been heard from since.”

  A slight smile flickered across Stratton’s face.

  “Would you like to know what was in that message that you decided to delete without bothering to check Commander Stratton?” Silverberg seethed.

  Stratton looked the admiral in the eye and gave a smug smile, his career was finished and he knew it. “His last will and testament, I hope.”

  Silverberg fought back the urge to jump up and slap the insolence off Stratton’s face. “No, this is what you decided to delete.” He angrily slapped a button on his console. A wall display lit up on the office wall. Martin’s face materialized.

  “. . . I repeat Merced Command, a Koth armada is en route to your location. I anticipate an attack by a fleet of over a thousand mixed Koth vessels in one hundred to one hundred twenty hours from now. I am sending what sensor data I have.”

  Admiral Silverberg slammed his fist down on the off button. “It wasn’t his last will and testament he sent, you fool . . . it was our’s if we hadn’t been warned.” The Admiral was visibly shaking. “I’m charging you with dereliction of duty during wartime.” He squinted his eyes. “I’d charge you with treason and have you executed, if I thought I could make it stick.”

  Stratton paled to a ghostly white and a wet spot ran down his pant leg.

  “Get this ‘gentleman’ out of my sight.” Admiral Silverberg snarled in total disgust.

  The two security officers gave a quick nod and pointed to the door showing their total disdain for Stratton. Stratton started to say something, but one of the security officers cut him off. “Just give me a reason you piece of shit, c’mon, just give me a reason.” The other officer gave Stratton a not so gentle shove toward the door. A sobbing Stratton shuffled out followed by the security officers, as he left the trailing officer gave Silverberg a sad, angry nod as he quietly closed the door.

  Admiral Silverberg sat in silence for a few seconds regaining his composure. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He apologized to Chinn and Briton.

  Chinn gave him a hard smile. “I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”

  “Here, here.” Briton added solemnly. “I think the security officers were rather upset with him also.”

  Silverberg’s eyebrows shot up. “They would have been just as dead as the rest of us if we didn’t get that warning . . .and they knew it.”

  Admiral Chinn’s face transformed into a nasty smile. “I’m sure you’re men will go by the book, but his fellow inmates will know what he did. Think he’ll make it to trial?” She was answered with two equally evil looks.

  Admiral Silverberg shook off the event. “You two have the most head to head experience with the Koth in large scale battles. What should I expect . . .”

  Silverberg’s alert console screamed for attention. He slapped the connect button. A wide eyed Commander stared back.

  “Admiral, we received an incoming micro-burst from the Star Panther, data only. You better look at this now! Secure net channel six.”

  Admiral Silverberg tapped a button on his console and the wall display came to life again. He glanced at the two vidphones to make sure they could see the display. They watched for several seconds.

  “The bloody hell . . .” Briton’s quiet voice roared in the silent office as they watched the frantic struggle on the display.

  “Damn, he’s quick!” Silverberg muttered in awe.

  “Prowler,” the other two said in unison.

  29: The Fox and the Hounds

  “We’re clear of the drones.” Martin smiled in pent up relief. He performed a cursory check of his sensor displays, they showed nothing. He nodded in satisfaction. “I’m going to drop into normal space, reset our FTL systems for normal operation.” The frigate settings work ok, but they sure aren’t as efficient as the normal system operation. They need more frequent regeneration and have a slower FTL relative translational velocity. Besides, that’s an ace up my sleeve I’d rather not show unless I have to. He thought with a smile, dropping his ship into normal space. He gave the ship a once over while Prowler reset the FTL system and quietly generated the FTL field.

  “Everything looks good . . . time to report in. You keep an eye peeled.” Martin winked at Prowler. Martin initiated a tight beam communication to the Merced system tagged for the Commanding Officer On Duty. A moment later he received an acknowledgment from Merced. He tapped out a sequence that would relay his sensor detection logs in reverse order, giving them the latest information first. “C’mon you guys, wake up.” He gave Prowler a dour look then keyed his transmit button. “Merced Command, Merced Command. This is Major Martin Morgan of the Star Panther. A Koth armada is en route to your location. I anticipate an attack by a fleet of over a thousand mixed Koth vessels on your system in one hundred to one hundred twenty hours fro
m now. I repeat Merced Command, a Koth armada is en route to your location. I anticipate an attack by a fleet of over a thousand mixed Koth vessels in one hundred to one hundred twenty hours from now. I am sending what sensor data I have. I re . . .” Martin was interrupted by a hissing snarl from Prowler. “Oh shit, we have company!” Prowler jumped the ship before Martin could release the transmit button.

  “Where in the hell did they come from?” Martin sputtered. Several dozen more koth ships materialized in space around him. “Mother fu . . .” He was forced to change course when two Koth strike fighters appeared right in front of them. “Damn, they’re gonna see that.” On cue three Koth light fighters jumped in right on top of him. What’s the point of trying to intercept us, we’re not in normal space. Weapons don’t work in subspace.

  Martin watched an unfamiliar Koth ship make six quick micro-jumps in the area of the Star Panther. A new FTL signature lit up at each of the jump points. Now what? As if to answer one of the new signatures gave a sudden pulse. Martin’s mouth fell open as every FTL field in the display glowed momentarily. Before what he had seen even fully registered Prowler changed the direction of their jump. A split second after they veered away from the fighters the source of the pulse micro-jumped right where the Star Panther would have been and self destructed with an immense subspace distortion. The three Koth light fighter’s FTL fields collapsed dropping them into normal space.

  Subspace depth charges? Martin’s mind howled in disbelief. “Some kinda’ subspace interceptors . . . keep us clear of them.”

  Another interceptor pulsed and Prowler careened clear. The second interceptor barely had self destructed when a third pulsed. The Panther slew into a new heading. “Vary our velocity too!” Martin yelled just as another interceptor pulsed. Martin ‘felt’ the ship change course and decelerate. This time the three remaining interceptors jumped in unison, self destructing in a triangle at the same time. Martin’s heart skipped a beat when the Panther’s FTL field jittered for a split second, he knew only Prowler’s quick and absolute control of the system had kept the field intact. “That’s all six, now get us the hell outta’ here,” Martin spat, regaining his composure. A glance at his displays showed almost a hundred Koth had joined the fray, mostly fighters with a few larger vessels mixed in. In the mishmash of signatures twelve more interceptors appeared, one pulsed.