ARMS For Eternity: (Book 8)

by Stephen Arseneault

  "Probably right. The Crissen might be better left for a longer term strategy. So what do you have?"

  "I think we have to accept the Burrell offer. Anything else means fighting them right here and now. And we don't have the winning fleet out there. Maybe with our Banshees and more missiles, but those are a dozen days away."

  The colonel said, "The Frizoid have to commit the fleet they have at Domicile. They're already on the hook for doing that. If they've double-crossed us, we should be able to take out whatever they’ve left back home with this fleet, and whatever production we've had on Midelon."

  "Last count was about sixty-eight hundred Banshees. We can pack ten gamma missiles on each, although I think we only have about twelve thousand now. Not enough to take on the full fleet, but maybe any residual they left behind. If we return our focus to building Banshees and missiles, how long before we reach twenty thousand ships and a hundred thousand missiles?"

  Tawn shrugged. "Six months, if we have all our supplies. Less if Mr. Morgan manages to get the factories on Domicile up and running. Any Frizoid interference and that timeframe can easily be pushed out. Having the materials to build with is still our biggest issue."

  The colonel rubbed his chin. "Our options are really limited here. It's back to the same old build-up on Midelon and fight it out in our space. All the while our entire population is vulnerable."

  Harris said, "Both choices are insane."

  The colonel stood. "Let's see if the other groups have anything."

  The colonel went around the room, questioning each as to any ideas they had. Two were quickly dismissed as not being feasible. Another was written off as too time consuming. Three other groups had nothing beyond the original options.

  The colonel let out a long breath. "This brings us to a vote. Do we fight it out here and now and hope for a miracle? Or do we delay the fight for another day, certainly bringing with it the wrath of the Frizoid? Option one... let's have a show of hands."

  Everyone remained still.

  "Option two?"

  All hands were raised.

  "That's it, then. We'll be returning to Midelon."

  Harris said, "Can I add that we should have a significant number of stasis pods up and running? I can't say how many, but we might just be able to keep this fleet intact and ready to add to our own if the time comes. They are one-use only though, so whoever goes in needs to stay in until we're ready to fight. We found out they cause muscle mass loss that is difficult to reverse and cumulative with each use. So once and out."

  The colonel nodded. "We'll keep that as an option for when we get there."

  A comm was opened to the Burrell captain. "We've decided to accept your offer. We'll peaceably return to our own space, and you'll leave us alone. We do have one request though. Should you encounter the Frizoid, let them know we were met here with force and defeated. That will give us options once we return home."

  The captain smiled. "Agreed. And a wise choice. I expect your departure to be immediate."

  The comm closed.

  Harris turned. "Colonel, we have the faster drive. We'll head back to evaluate the situation and to arrange what we can. Status will be returned to you before your arrival. Good journey, sir. We're at least all going home alive."

  The Bangor moved out of the docking bay. A wormhole opened before her and she raced through. Twelve days later, she entered boson space. A single jump took her to Midelon, where she landed several minutes later.

  Gandy was standing outside when the hatch opened. "Some of the Frizoid are still here. They lied. Fifteen warships are parked in orbit around Domicile. The rest headed off in the direction of the Burrell planet. How'd the assault go?"

  Harris stepped down with Tawn right behind. "Wasn't one. Come on, we might as well brief everyone at once."

  A comm was opened to Domicile from Alex's lab. Bannis Morgan's image, and that of the President, came up on the display.

  "The Frizoid are double-crossing us," Harris said. "And the Burrell know about their plans. Our fleet is coming back here, having not attacked. The Frizoid will get a healthy reception when they arrive at their target. We should expect their return once that fight is over. They won't be happy."

  Bannis gestured toward his door. "They've kept a close watch on me for the last week. All our efforts to restart production have been halted. I knew those filthy bugs were lying."

  "Mr. President, this has to be your call. Do we remove the remaining Frizoid fleet and prepare to deal with their return? Or do we lay low and see where they want to take this."

  Harris turned to Alex. "Stasis pods? How many?"

  "We'll have the full two million in eight weeks."

  "Perfect." Harris turned back toward the camera. "Sir, when the fleet arrives, we'll take them in here at Midelon. The Frizoid won't have any idea of where they are or what happened to them unless they get word from the Burrell. They agreed to tell them of our utter defeat at Maufree."

  "Maufree?"

  "That's the name of the planet the Burrell outpost was on. Only it wasn't Burrell when we arrived. It belonged to a new species called the Crissen. Has apparently been theirs for quite some time, although the Burrell have attacked it before. Seems the Burrell are at war with two big neighbors, the Frizoid and the Crissen."

  Harris filled in the others on the happenings at Maufree, and the Burrell's offer.

  The President left the comm for several minutes. "Mr. Gruberg," he said when he returned. "The decision has been made. Since we do not yet have the means to protect Domicile, we request you shelter the fleet there with you. That removes any reason for the Frizoid to take retribution on us. At worst, they'll continue to train the next group of conscripts."

  Harris nodded. "I think that's our best option, sir. I'm certain you're aware of this already, but we can't let anyone know the fleet has returned. Keep this word tight. Very tight. The Frizoid have already been recruiting spies. We don't want even the slightest rumor leaking out."

  "Understood. Thank you for all you do, Mr. Gruberg. You and Miss Freely are certainly heroes in this mess we're living in. You've saved us a half dozen times over now."

  Harris half smiled. "It's what we were born for, sir."

  The comm closed.

  Tawn chuckled. "What we were born for?"

  "Literally. Now let's get to work on those pods."

  Gandy said, "The pods are already being built. The bots are handling that."

  "OK. What about missiles or Banshees?"

  "Both lines are running. The bots are bringing in shipments of material from New Earth. For whatever reason, the Frizoid seem to be content with just sitting at Domicile. They aren't even bothering the outer colonies."

  Tawn placed her hands on her hips. "Well, crap. We're caught up, then. Nothing for us to do?"

  Harris looked toward the door. "It’s been weeks. We could probably both use a run. Let everyone get back to their monitoring."

  Alex said, "While you're out, I'll be giving the Bangor a once-over. I'd like to study her logs and inspect the newly installed gear."

  "Oh," Harris said. "That reminds me. The hop-drive gained in efficiency the longer we flew. On the way back we topped out at twenty-eight thousand times the speed of light. Whatever algorithm you added seems to be working wonders."

  Alex's eyes lit up. "Fantastic. The circuits monitoring and adjusting the focus are self-tuning. I was hoping there were improvements to be made. Twenty-eight thousand? That's almost double again our improvements. This is fantastic news."

  Tawn added, "We thought we might hit thirty, but the jump distance sort of plateaued on us at twenty-eight."

  "We must be near the physical limits of that setup. I'll have to go back and revisit hardware. This is exciting news."

  Alex turned back to his console and began typing away. Tawn followed Harris out to the track and they were soon sprinting along. Three minutes into the run, they began to get winded.

  Tawn slowed. "Can't be that far
out of practice. My lung capacity seems down."

  Harris glanced over his shoulder as he reduced his speed. "Me too. Weeks in the ship maybe?"

  "Never had this effect before. You don't think this is from the stasis pods, do you? We were only in them for a short time."

  We'll get Idiot to do a full scan workup on us when we get back."

  The runners struggled, finishing a full three minutes behind their prior averages. Recovery took most of five minutes before heading to the bunker level with the bioscanner. Tawn went first.

  Idiot said, "It has been some time since your last scan here. I downloaded the latest parameters from the ship's logs. Since your journey to Maufree began, you appear to have lost just over one-and-a-half percent of your muscle mass. Interesting. I shall want to study this."

  Tawn returned a scowl. "Great."

  Harris stepped into the scanner circle. "Let's see what damage we did to the old Gruberg."

  A holo-image of the results floated in front of him. "Two percent? Why more than her?"

  Tawn chuckled. "This isn't a competition, you know."

  "Yeah, well, you didn't just lose a full 2 percent. That was hard-earned muscle."

  "Must have all been lost from your head."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means quit whining. It is what it is. Just means we have to work harder and stay out of those pods."

  Sixty-six days passed without incident. The Human fleet returned and was escorted into Midelon space. The bots had constructed an orbital facility for stasis pod storage. The transfer of all regulars took almost a week. When the last had been placed in their pod and the pod enabled, all but a skeleton crew of bots remained for maintenance. The colonel and the Bios returned to their facility on the surface.

  Harris walked into the colonel's office. "I'm wondering if we should head out to gather intel. Did the Burrell win? The Frizoid? Have the Crissen returned?"

  "I was just going over our numbers. Fourteen thousand banshees and almost fifty thousand missiles. We have months to go before we have a force that will ensure not only victory but continued defense. So yes, go, we have time."

  Tawn met Harris at the ship.

  Harris said, "Everything is flying here. We're heading out to Maufree to check on the Burrell, and over to their other base to check on the results of the Frizoid attack."

  The new flight was nine and a half days. Upon arrival, the nav display lit up with information.

  Tawn rolled her eyes. "Crissen. That must be five thousand ships there. Not a Burrell ship in sight."

  "Given what they did to those Burrell ships in that last fight, I think I know who won here."

  "Should we make contact?"

  Harris reached back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, no. I think we let sleeping dogs lie. Don't want to be seen as poking around in their space. Let's head over to check on the other base."

  A four-day run with the hop-drive had the Bangor slowing as it closed on the target, Zorn. Again the nav display lit up. The display showed an armada of just over five thousand Crissen warships. A number of salvage ships were picking through a large debris field in the space surrounding the former Burrell base.

  "I was not expecting that."

  Tawn nodded. "I'm seeing debris from Both Frizoid and Burrell in there. And a lot of each."

  "Could be they fought it out and the Crissen showed up to crush the weakened victor."

  "Maybe. Take us in close enough for a bioscan of that planet."

  Several minutes passed before the difficult-to-find Bangor came to a stop and her sensors got to work.

  Tawn said, "Hmm… showing both Frizoid and Burrell down there. Mostly Burrell."

  "Surrendered to the Crissen?"

  "This might really work out in our favor."

  "How so?"

  "The Burrell won't be sending any ships our way in the near future. They just lost an important base. And from the size and makeup of that debris field, the Frizoid lost their fleet. The Frizoid colony that's closest to us is five hundred light-years from here. That's seven days with this hop-drive."

  "You want to make a trip there?"

  "I do. If we pass a Frizoid fleet along the way, we know they want this base. If we find a big fleet at the Frizoid base, we'll have an idea of whether or not they're planning another raid on us. If we get home and find a fleet already there, well, I guess none of this means anything."

  The journey to the Frizoid colony confirmed the existence of a tremendous fleet. Upward of sixty thousand ships. A run back to Midelon confirmed no other ships were headed that way.

  "Colonel," Harris said, "by the time they get here, if they come here, we won't have the ships needed to defend against that size fleet. We're stuck in this holding pattern. We move on the ships at Domicile and the bugs send that fat fleet our way."

  Alex came over the comm. "Mr. Gruberg, I've had the bots outfit a Banshee with the new hop-drive and short mast. An extended fuel tank has been added as well. I would like to send it to Earth. The journey is just over three weeks. It would return in seven."

  "Earth? This just exploratory?"

  "It would seem we are too near several hostile species. It's possible Earth is still quite habitable. Perhaps we should consider moving back."

  Harris pulled back. "To Earth? We have a billion people to move. It would take us a year just to build enough transports, and that's if we had the bots and materials to spare."

  Tawn said, "I think it's a good idea. Just adds to our future options while only costing us a single Banshee for seven weeks."

  The colonel nodded. "I'd have to agree. The cost is minimal."

  Harris rubbed the back of his neck. "And let's say we do find a livable planet, what do we do then? Do we change our focus from defense to running away?"

  "We evaluate the data and make a determination as to what our best options are. I don't understand your opposition."

  Harris sighed. "I'm not opposed. Guess I'm just getting a little frustrated, Colonel. Every time we turn around, the threat changes. And it never seems to be for the better. I would just like to see us on top for once."

  When the meeting with the colonel had come to an end, Harris stopped in to see Alex. "I’ve been exercising like crazy the past few weeks, and I'm feeling fatigued from it every time."

  "Head back and have Idiot perform another scan. If there are any changes, I'll be happy to look into them for you. It's possible we have yet to see the full effect of the stasis pod. I've briefly looked into the Burrell archive from the Grindle. They did note having issues with the pods."

  Harris turned for the door. "I'll work it out with Idiot. You keep focused on your work. What would that be, by the way?"

  "I've been looking into the video logs from your first trip to Maufree. I'm hoping to gain insight into what they use for their shield generation. Perhaps that technology could be used to defend this planet. Only, I'm not yet certain what that technology is."

  "Still, I'd rather have you looking over that than my health. Keep up the great work, Doc. We need whatever edge you can give us."

  Several days passed with Tawn and Harris not having specific tasks available to keep them occupied. The pods, Banshees, gamma missiles, and more worker bots were all being handled by the others and the AI.

  "We should make another run out to Maufree and the others," Harris said.

  "Might as well. We've got nothing to do here. We should drop a few probes out there this time. If we come back around a few weeks later, we'll at least have info on all their activities."

  "Good suggestion." Harris looked down at his waist as he stepped up into the Bangor. "I think I might have lost a few more kilos."

  "You do look thinner. Not much. Just a bit."

  "Farker, can you check my weight for me?"

  A quick scan yielded a result. "One hundred and two kilograms."

  "What? One-oh-two? Really?"

  Harris sucked in his gut and poked out his chest. "
Maybe that stasis pod was just what I needed."

  "The data suggests you are down two-point-five percent in muscle mass."

  "That can't be right. That was supposed to be only up to half a percent for each time in there. We've only been under three times."

  "The data doesn't lie, sir. Perhaps it has something to do with your genetic makeup?"

  "Well, why hasn't it affected her like this?"

  A second scan was performed. "One hundred and five kilograms."

  Tawn grinned. "Finally!"

  "Data shows a muscle loss of two percentage points."

  "What?"

  Harris chuckled. "Not quite as funny now, is it?"

  "No. Not really."

  — Chapter 15 —

  * * *

  Nine and a half days later, the Bangor slowed as they approached Maufree.

  Tawn looked over the nav display. "That look like the Crissen are forming up for a jump somewhere?"

  "It does. And it looks to be straight at us, which would mean they are coming to our space."

  "Oh Crap. Here they come. Right at us. Get us out of here!"

  "They'll jump before they reach us."

  "That's a big risk you're taking, and it includes my life. Get us out of here."

  "Just wait."

  Multitudes of wormholes opened and the Crissen ships disappeared within.

  Tawn sighed. "Remember when you last told me to start protesting louder because you were too pig-headed to listen?"

  "I don't remember anything about pig-headed. Now, what was the ship count?"

  Tawn huffed. "Eighty-one-eighty."

  "You find it interesting they didn't leave a single ship? There are still Crissen down on that planet."

  "Must not be worried about the Burrell. We should check Zorn."

  Four days later, the Bangor again slowed.

  "Ships are gone. All of them," Tawn said. "You think they're heading for our space?"

  "One way to find out. We head that way and see. If they left at the same time, we should catch them four days in."