Ragnarok-ARC

by Patrick A. Vanner

  "This is a very audacious course you have set for us, High Commander," Si'Lasa finally said after he had time to digest all that he had heard.

  "You do not approve?"

  "It is not for me to approve or disapprove. You are the high commander, and you have the full support of the Swarm Masters. I am, and have always been, loyal to you and your command. You have led this Swarm from victory to victory, and even if I do not fully understand your plans, I never question them."

  "That is kind of you to say, old friend," he said after a few moments of silence. "But I sense you still have your doubts."

  "Not doubts, High Commander, merely concerns."

  "Please share them with me."

  "As you command," Si'Lasa intoned before beginning. "In our last encounter with the Dry-Skins, even with surprise and superior numbers, the Swarm took tremendous damage. Even with the replacements sent by the Swarm Masters, we are still not at full battle readiness. The Dry-Skins will have the advantage should we assault their home system. Both in numbers and in fixed defenses. Surprise will not mitigate that."

  "I believe that I have addressed that concern," the high commander reminded him.

  "Yes, you have, but that action depends on the veracity of the information you have regarding the Dry-Skins' deployment. From where does the information come, and can it be trusted? It was a bold gamble, trusting the information that Tesh Na'Leash brought us last time."

  "Very true, it was, and indeed the information I am relying on was provided once more by Na'Leash. But this time I am fully confident in the information that he has brought me," he assured Si'Lasa.

  The Xan-Sskarns had more than a dozen Ssi-Nans deployed in the Sol system. It took several dozen tides to replace each ship, as they translated into the Dry-Skins' home system far enough away to avoid detection and proceeded in-system under normal power. Their mission to track the movement of the Dry-Skin Home Fleet and the status of the system's fixed defenses lasted for several hundred tides before they began to exfiltrate. The process was long, slow, and tedious, but necessary to ensure the continued secrecy of their surveillance.

  The surveillance provided very accurate information that was unfortunately several dozen tides out of date.

  The high commander needed to have more up-to-date information for his new battle plan to succeed. Thus he sent for the tesh who had brought him news of the Dry-Skin fleet at Groombridge 34. That news provided vital intelligence allowing for the success of his last plan. He had a new mission for that tesh and his crew—a million which, while only slightly dangerous or difficult, was highly important to the fruition of his plans, because it would once more bring information that would allow for the destruction of the Dry-Skins.

  Tesh Na'Leash began his mission, jumping into the Sol system at a distance that was barely far enough out to be undetectable but well within communication range of the Ssi-Nans currently keeping the Dry-Skins under surveillance.

  After accepting the intelligence from the first Ssi-Nan, Tesh Na'Leash repeated the process. Na'Leash and his crew maintained a furious pace, pushing themselves and their ship to the limits of their endurance. With the last transmission recorded, they jumped back to their Swarm, bringing with them a complete, updated picture of the Dry-Skin defenses.

  "I understand now. I, too, trust the information brought to us by Tesh Na'Leash. He is an exceptional Ssi-Nan commander, and I do not doubt that he would not have returned to the Swarm without completing his mission," Si'Lasa stated, his voice placating. "Please forgive my concerns."

  "There is nothing to forgive, my old friend. You were concerned for the safety of this Swarm. There is no shame in that." The high commander watched his subordinate indicate his thanks and that he had no more concerns which needed to be addressed. "Will the Swarm be ready when the time comes?"

  "Yes, High Commander. I will see to it personally."

  "Excellent. With you by my side, I do not doubt that we will be victorious."

  "You flatter me," Si'Lasa said, bowing his head. "When do we attack?"

  "Soon, Vice Commander," the high commander hissed, leaning back into his command throne, rows of razor-sharp teeth exposed in a frightening parody of a human smile.

  "Very soon."

  * * *

  Admiral Elliot Tanner, the wizened old man commanding Home Fleet, stood with his hands on the rail running around the pit housing the flag deck's projector, his eyes intently following the information presented before him. Flanking him, Heimdall's commanding officer, Captain Ryan Ash, stood, hands clasped behind his back, splitting his attention between the admiral and the projection.

  The projector was currently displaying the whole of the Sol system, including all current assets, both fixed and mobile, and their status and location. Ash easily picked out the few lone light codes denoting the pickets Admiral Tanner had deployed around the system, right at the wall. Along with the individual green outlines of the picket ships was a much larger symbol representing the bulk of Home Fleet.

  The admiral whispered a command to the chief standing at the control panel, and the holographic image dissolved. Then, after a moment, it coalesced into a view of a much smaller area of space. The three areas in which Home Fleet currently resided.

  Ash could understand what he was watching, but what he couldn't understand was why he was watching it.

  "Captain, I think we could use a bit more fighter cover. Please inform all carriers to launch an additional ten percent of their Valkyries. And I want the escort frigates to push out a few thousand more kilometers to give us a better screen and more sensor coverage," Admiral Tanner's rasping voice said, though he never took his attention away from the projection. "What do you think?"

  Ash didn't have a problem passing on the admiral's orders to the other captains of Home Fleet. While normally these orders would be passed on by the admiral's chief of staff, the officer in question was currently preparing for the upcoming flag transfer to the Valhalla.

  What Ash did have a problem with was passing on orders that, in his professional opinion, made absolutely no sense. Granted, he knew he was not the military genius the admiral was rumored to be, but neither was he tactically or strategically inept. He kept his opinion to himself as he acknowledged his understanding of the admiral's orders.

  "I think that will be all for the moment, Captain." Admiral Tanner finally turned his attention from the projection to the man standing with him. "I'll be preparing for the transfer, but also keeping an eye on things from my workstation. I don't envision any problems in the next few hours, but if you need me for anything, don't hesitate to contact me. Understood?"

  "Understood, sir," Ash said as he extended his hand. "Sir, it's been an honor to carry your flag. I'll be sorry to see you go."

  Taking the proffered hand, Admiral Tanner smiled at his flag captain.

  "Captain, it has been a privilege."

  With that, the admiral turned his back on Ash and headed for the hatch. Just as the admiral reached it, the Heimdall's executive officer stepped into the compartment, immediately stepping to one side as the admiral stepped through the hatch, exchanging greetings with Commander Washington as he exited.

  "What is it, Tyrone?" Ash asked his XO as he came up beside him.

  "Nothing, sir.Just came down to see if there was anything you might need a hand with. I'm sure that with the admiral's staff tied up at the moment, their duties have all devolved onto you." The tall commander smiled, white teeth flashing in his dark face.

  "Well, XO, as a matter of fact, I have some orders to pass on to some of the fleet." Ash explained the nature of the admiral's orders.

  "Sir, I don't mean to say anything against the admiral, but I just can't fathom the reason for those orders."

  "What you really mean to say, Commander Washington, is that these orders make no fucking sense," Ash said quietly, his voice carrying no farther than the two of them.

  "Yes, sir," Commander Washington replied.

  "Well, as yo
u can guess, I agree with you. I mean, I can understand why he would be worried after what happened at Groombridge 34. Having the fleet spread across the system would invite defeat in detail. But this . . . " Ash waved his hand toward the projection, and both officers turned their gaze to it, watching the small holographic ships of the fleet slowly drift across the display while much smaller icons representing the Valkyries on patrol darted between their larger sister ships.

  What had both officers concerned was their current deployment. The entirety of Home Fleet, sans the half-dozen ships assigned to picket duty, was deployed in one large formation. They were well dispersed but still within spitting distance of each other, in astronomical terms. While the current deployment did in fact address the issue of the possibility of the fleet being defeated in detail, it brought up a host of other concerns for the two experienced officers.

  "Well, you may see the reasoning behind the admiral's orders, but I still find it unnerving," Commander Washington told his captain, voice still low.

  "What would you do if it were up to you, Tyrone?" Captain Ash clearly wanted a second opinion to match against his own ideas.

  "I'd keep with the admiral's train of thought and not have the fleet scattered to the winds, but I would break it into three or four task forces and station them at a few key points. Mars, Terra, with the rest on constant patrol, and have the pickets strengthened and set to cover beyond the wall. If the Sallys try to sneak in, they're going to do it from far enough out that we won't see them coming until they're right on top of us." His analysis finished, Commander Washington fell into a relaxed parade rest, waiting for his captain's response.

  "Well, Tyrone, you've clearly read my mind once again. That's exactly what I'd do, with a few modifications." Ash turned away from the projection to gaze at his XO. "I would detach a few of the destroyers and frigates from each of the task forces, have them parallel the main body, but farther out, giving us a bigger picture. But that's just a matter of preference. Either way, close deployment or dispersal has its advantages."

  "I can see that, sir." Captain Ash shook himself then tugged his uniform jacket down. It was time to get back to work.

  "Well, Commander, while I would enjoy standing here debating tactics with you, I have some orders to pass on."

  "Yes, sir." Commander Washington braced to attention as his captain began to follow the admiral's path out of the compartment. But before he could reach the hatch, Tyrone called out.

  "Captain?"

  "Yes, Commander?" Ash said, stopping and turning to face his XO.

  "I just thought of something. What if the Sallys managed to jump into the middle of us? Our responses would be severely limited while the fleet tried to get clear of each other's field of fire."

  Captain Ryan Ash gave his XO a wry smile, turned on his heel, and continued on his way toward the hatch, calling his response over his shoulder.

  "That thought hadn't so much as crossed my mind, Commander, but rather ran screaming in incoherent terror over it."

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Home Fleet

  October 13, 2197

  1313 z

  Beyond Pluto Orbit, Sol

  "SENSOR CONTACT!" bellowed from nearly one hundred throats simultaneously. "MULTIPLE POINT SOURCES!"

  Heads snapped up throughout Home Fleet as the information registered. To the credit of the captains of the fleet, the responses were almost universal, varying only on the order in which they were issued.

  "Location?"

  "Sound general quarters!"

  Regardless of which order was shouted first, the responses were the same. Alarms howled throughout ships as crews were called to their battle stations, followed by a voice giving the same bad news.

  "Multiple point sources—too many to localize."

  Sensor officers turned to the task of trying to glean more information from their equipment to determine just what, where, and how many of the intruders there were.

  * * *

  Had any sensor suites within Home Fleet been able to penetrate the massive distortion field generated by multiple folds, the resulting information would have caused even the most seasoned personnel to blanch.

  What: thermonuclear warheads ranging in yield from one thousand to fifteen hundred megatons.

  Where: interspersed within the main body of Home Fleet. Many within meters of ship hulls, some materializing within the ships themselves.

  Number: one hundred thirty-six. All of which arrived in the Sol system within mere moments of each other.

  Fifteen seconds after the last warhead arrived, Admiral Tanner's Home Fleet was consumed as a new star was born.

  * * *

  Brian "Chief" Phelps, customary coffee cup firmly clenched in his hand, kept a watchful eye on his boards. He and his partner, Petty Officer Lisa Brown, had had an eventful week following the excitement of the Fenris' unexpected arrival in-system with the news of the destruction of Admiral Stevens' fleet. Drill after drill, diagnostics, and extended shifts all geared toward making sure that they, along with the rest of Folkvang station and its crew, were as ready as possible for any possible Xan-Sskarn incursion into Sol.

  All of that training was about to pay off as for the second time in a week alarms screamed for attention from the boards in front of the two sensor techs. This time Petty Officer Phelps managed to hang on to his cup as he snapped forward, shouting into his mike, unknowingly repeating dozens of voices.

  "Sensor contact! Multiple point sources!"

  Lisa had just begun to analyze the incoming information when it suddenly stopped.

  "What the hell?" she exclaimed in a disgusted voice as she began to run diagnostics on her boards. "Chief, my board's just fried, and I've lost the feed. What've you got?"

  "I don't think it's your board, Lisa. My feed just went dead, too."

  As they were discussing the situation, the watch chief rushed up to their stations, stopping between them and bending forward to look at their boards himself.

  "What've you got?" Chief Maxwell asked them.

  "I don't know, Chief. I was reading massive fold events from multiple sources when my board just went dead." Phelps indicated his silent board. "Same thing for Lisa."

  "Brown?"

  "It's like he said, Chief. I was reading fold events, then there was what looked like a huge spike of energy, then nothing. It happened so fast that I really couldn't get a read on what it was."

  "Okay, I want you to cancel the diagnostics and play back the records." Chief Maxwell rose back up, waving his hand to get the attention of the watch officer, Lieutenant Ford. "Phelps, you try to get a read on what happened from another satellite."

  "Time lag is going to play hell with what I can get, Chief. I won't be able to do a true active search."

  "I know, but it's better than nothing. Now get on it before we miss anything."

  "Aye, Chief," Phelps said. Turning back to his board, he called up the satellites closest to the disturbance and tried to gather any information he could.

  Lieutenant Ford arrived as Brown pulled up what little information she had. Chief Maxwell brought the officer up to speed on the current situation, and when he finished, he indicated that Brown should begin the playback.

  The playback took exactly seventeen seconds.

  "Oh, fuck," Chief Maxwell whispered as he registered what he saw. A moment later, Lieutenant Ford turned pale, all the blood draining from his face as he, too, began to comprehend.

  Petty Officer Phelps, completely engrossed in his work, failed to notice the reactions of his companions. His efforts were finally rewarded as he began to pull readings from another sensor satellite.

  "Chief, I've got something," Phelps said, not looking up as more information began to scroll by on his screen. "Looks like—"

  He didn't get the chance to finish, as Maxwell interrupted him.

  "The results of a large nuclear detonation."

  "Yeah, that's right." He sounded a little confused. "How did y
ou . . . "

  The looks on their faces stopped his first question, but a second one came in its place.

  "What?"

  "Son, between Brown's records and your current feed, I would have to say that we have just been witness to the largest nuclear detonation created by a sentient species in history." Chief Maxwell's voice was still a whisper. "I'm willing to bet that if you went up to the observation deck in approximately five hours, you would be able to see the light from that explosion."

  "But an explosion that size," Phelps started. His mind raced, assimilating what he had just heard with what he knew. He did not like the path his mind had started down.

  "Admiral Tanner . . . Home Fleet . . . ," Brown breathed as she, too, began to understand the repercussions of what Chief Maxwell had just said.