Legacy Fleet: Invincible

by David Bruns

  “Can you reset the system, sir?” Baltasar asked.

  Admiral Shasta glared back. “No, you can’t just reset the system. It’s designed to operate independently. The ships with safe codes are locked in for the next twenty-four hours. They’ll be well out of range by then. I promise you, if we make it through this, there will be an investigation. Shasta, out.” The screen went dark.

  Addison flopped back in her chair, unable to process the disappointment. Already her personal screen was filling with incoming comms as the Fleet tried to regroup from the GILD failure. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement and saw Ensign Proctor waving frantically at her. Addison crossed the room.

  “What is it, Ensign?” The woman’s face was ashen. She whispered, pointing to her screen. “I looked at the captain’s hail to the Swarm ship. He transmitted the safe codes in his message. It’s right here, buried in this side frequency.”

  Addison felt her stomach fall away. This made no sense. Why would Baltasar turn over secret codes to the enemy?

  “Commander Halsey.” Baltasar’s voice was directly behind her. When she turned, Addison saw he had a weapon pointed at her. “You are under arrest for treason.”

  Marines surrounded her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Commander,” Baltatsar said harshly, his weapon steady on her chest. “You had the responsibility to transmit the safe codes to the GILD system and somehow they ended up with the enemy.” Addison started to protest, but Baltasar cut her off. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve figured out a way to cover your tracks, Commander, but I’m not buying it.”

  He nodded at the marines. “Confine her to quarters.”

  Chapter 19

  ISS Invincible – Executive Officer’s Quarters

  Addison paced, then did push-ups until the muscles in her arms failed her. Anything to still her racing brain.

  Baltasar was a spy? A decorated Fleet officer, captain of one of the premier warships in the Fleet, was a spy? Not possible. Her brain rejected the idea.

  But she had seen the evidence. He had passed the safe codes to the Swarm ships. Proctor had shown her the screen.

  Proctor . . . maybe Proctor was the spy? She spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out how the sensors officer could have manipulated the outgoing transmission to the Swarm ship, but came up with nothing. Besides, Baltasar was the one who insisted they contact the aliens again—against orders.

  Baltasar was a spy, that was the only logical answer.

  Addison thought about his obsession with the mysterious green vial. There had to be a connection. Was it a weapon of some kind, or maybe an organic storage device that he was tasked to preserve? Her mind reeled.

  Stop. Think. Act.

  The words of her father echoed in her head. Don’t react, act.

  If she accepted that her captain was a spy, then it was her duty to stop him. Organize a mutiny? That was going to be difficult from her quarters.

  A new thought chilled her. What if UEF command didn’t realize the Invincible was compromised? He’d already attacked and destroyed a Russian warship. She shuddered to think of the damage a Constitution-class starship could wreak on an unsuspecting fleet.

  She needed to warn the Fleet. Her mind turned over the problem. The idea of hacking the Invincible’s comms system by herself didn’t seem realistic. Besides, in order to do anything onboard the ship she needed someone she could trust, and right now trust was a commodity in short supply.

  It took a full quarter hour before her heart allowed her head to acknowledge the obvious answer: Laz Scollard.

  He had a ship and a crew, but could she really trust him?

  Beggars can’t be choosers. Another choice fatherly saying.

  She crossed to the door and punched the intercom. “Corporal, I need to speak to the captain.”

  The young man’s voice came back through the speaker. “Sorry, ma’am, but—”

  “Corporal, open this door and talk to me. I’m still the executive officer on this ship!”

  She hit him as soon as the door opened, launching her fist at the soft flesh of his throat. He recovered quickly, parrying her next punch, but she had the drop on him. She rang his head against the doorjamb, dragged him inside, and clamped his neck in a sleeper hold. It was over in less than thirty seconds.

  Working as fast as she could, she stripped his uniform off and put it on. He was a little thicker in the waist and she was fuller in the hips and chest, but it would pass a cursory inspection. She pushed her hair up into the cap and pulled the brim as low as she dared. Using his handcuffs to bind him, she placed his gagged form into her closet and locked it.

  Addison kept her eyes down as she made her way to the brig. She avoided the lifts, worried that if any crew members had a chance to study Corporal Ralston, they would realize they were actually looking at their Executive Officer.

  She used the corporal’s badge to access the brig area. The marine on duty waved to her, then did a double-take when he saw her name badge. “Hey, you’re not—”

  He lunged for the alarm, but Addison drew her stunner and fired. She used his own handcuffs to secure him.

  Someone had given Laz a rubber ball, and she could hear the rhythm as he bounced it off the floor, the wall, then caught it again. Pock-pock-slap, pock-pock-slap. Addison found herself clenching her teeth in frustration. Even in the brig that man could somehow still manage to get special treatment.

  When she opened the door to his cell, he didn’t look up. “What do you knuckleheads want now?” he said. Pock-pock-slap.

  “That’s the greeting I get?” Addison replied.

  Laz’s head snapped up. “Addie?” He scanned the uniform. “What are you—”

  “No time, Laz. I need that pirate ship of yours to get me off the Invincible. Are you in?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Addie.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Laz just grinned. “Based on your terrible disguise, I’m guessing we’re in a hurry, but you need to get my guys out, too.”

  He walked into the hallway and bellowed, “Topper, Little Dick, Mimi, Gizmo. Sound off!”

  Voices yelled back from the very end of the hallway. Addison, working the control panel for the cell doors, finally gave up and opened all the cells. The short black man and the massive bald guy joined them, followed by the dark-haired woman and bearded engineer. “Everyone, this is Addie—”

  “Addison,” she said. The woman was eyeing her in a way that made Addison want to punch her in the face.

  “Whatever,” Laz replied. “What’s your plan?”

  Addison stopped. What was her plan? They needed to get to the Renegade on the flight deck, but that was a good ten minutes’ travel from where they were now.

  “You don’t have a plan, do you, Addie?” Laz said.

  Addison shook her head.

  Laz stared at her for a second. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. Mimi, find a power pack and cross-wire it so it overloads. Little Dick and Topper, find us some weapons and a couple sets of handcuffs. We’re going to create a good old-fashioned diversion.”

  ***

  They made it halfway to the flight deck before the explosion happened. As the emergency klaxon sounded and the crew raced to their damage control stations, the corporal’s communicator badge buzzed. Addison glanced down: Security alert—Commander Halsey has escaped. Deadly force authorized.

  Deadly force . . . Addison unlocked the cuffs on her prisoners. “They’re looking for me now and they’ll be shooting. No sense in keeping you guys locked up.”

  Addison’s hopes rose as they turned the last corner and she could see the double doors leading onto the flight deck. She stopped.

  “The tractor beam,” she said. “We’ll never get off the ship unless I disable it.”

  Laz signaled Topper to watch the hallway and Little Dick ran to the flight deck doors. He flashed a thumbs-up. />
  “Okay, what’s your plan, Addie? This is your ship.”

  “They’re coming, Captain,” Topper called. He fired a few shots around the corner and received a fusillade in return. “We can’t stay here.”

  Laz watched her. “Addie. Plan. Now.”

  “Can you fit an X-23 fighter on your cargo deck?”

  Laz pulled a face. “Tight fit, but yeah.”

  “Go, get on the Renegade and get out of here. I’ll handle the tractor beam. If I make it out, you pick me up.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Then it’s up to you to tell CENTCOM that Captain Baltasar is a spy.”

  “Addie . . .”

  But she was already down the hall and into the pilot’s locker room. Addison found her locker and slipped into her flight suit.

  ***

  The flight deck was deserted. Laz and his men had already boarded the Renegade by the time she located an X-23 fighter in a ready status. Her system powered up just as the Renegade’s running lights came on. She keyed her radio.

  “Control, this is Xray-Bravo-niner-niner, the captain has released the privateer ship Renegade with fighter escort.” Might as well try the easy way first.

  “Bravo-niner-niner, Control, stand by.” The operator sounded young, unsure of herself. Just as Addison was hopeful her ploy might work, a new voice came on the net, one with more authority. “Bravo-niner-niner, we’re in lockdown. Release denied.” As he spoke, a platoon of marines flooded onto the flight deck. Small arms fire filled the air around her. They’d figured out it was her.

  Addison switched channels. “Laz, get out of here. I’m right behind you.”

  “Roger that, Cannonballs.” Addison smiled to herself. He remembered her call sign after all these years.

  The Renegade entered the flight path and gunned her engines. Addison could see movement in the flight control room overlooking the hangar. Time to play her cards. She rose above the parked fighters and pointed the nose of her ship toward the control room. “Control, you have three seconds to evacuate before I start shooting. One . . . two . . . three.” She released a short burst of cannon fire in the far corner of the control room windows. The glass shattered.

  “We’re clear, Cannonballs,” Laz said. “Just waiting on you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Addison said. “Just one more thing to take care of.”

  Small arms fire raked her underside. Addison spun the fighter in a tight circle so the blast of her engines washed over the marines. They scattered. She nosed closer to the control room. One brave officer was still trying to make it to the tractor beam station.

  Addison cursed. She backed the ship away and pointed her cannons at the housing for the power distribution system for the whole flight deck. The fighter stuttered as she raked the nose back and forth across the panel. A small explosion billowed out of the wall and the hangar went dark. Emergency lights flickered on. She’d just killed power to the entire flight deck. Everything was down: lighting, artificial gravity, atmospheric control, blast doors. She hoped to hell the marines on the flight deck had their emergency breathing gear with them.

  Addison “Cannonballs” Halsey nosed through the field of floating debris and punched the throttle forward.

  Chapter 20

  ISS Warrior

  Lagrange Station Depot

  Captain Christian de Santos stared at the screen. “I don’t believe it, Admiral,” he said flatly.

  “Chris, I’m having a hard time myself,” Admiral Kilgore replied, “but the Invincible transferred the GILD safe codes to the alien ship. It’s a fact.”

  Christian scrubbed his face with both hands. “Ma’am, this is Jason Baltasar we’re talking about here. What you are saying is not possible. I know that man like my own brother.”

  The admiral’s face hardened. “Captain de Santos, I didn’t call you for a character reference on Captain Baltasar. The GILD system has been compromised and now the only thing that stands between Earth and the Swarm fleet is Lagrange Station.”

  Lagrange Station was positioned 1.5 million kilometers from the Earth at the L2 point, the point of neutral gravity between Earth and the Sun, a place where zero energy was expended to stay in orbit. The optimum spot for a maintenance depot.

  Christian nodded at the screen. “We’re evacuating any ships that can get underway and all nonessential personnel, but the Warrior is a sitting duck here, ma’am. My weapons systems are fine, but I’ve only got two engines installed. With two-thirds of my engine room gone I can barely get underway, much less fight.”

  “Weapons are available?” Kilgore asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I even have a half load-out of torpedoes, since the armory here on Lagrange wasn’t equipped to handle that model.”

  “Do you . . . ?” The admiral’s features softened and she stroked her chin. Finally, she turned her full attention back to de Santos. “Captain, I have an idea.”

  ***

  Christian de Santos watched the main viewscreen from his command chair. Around him lay the detritus of a ship in the middle of refit—opened panels, pulled wiring harnesses, tools left in the haste of the evacuation—but he ignored it all.

  “Remember, Lieutenant, passive sensors only,” he said for the third time. The lieutenant manning the sensors panel didn’t seem to mind the repeated reminder.

  “Confirmed passive only, sir.”

  “Let’s go to full mag, Lieutenant.”

  “Full magnification, sir.”

  The five Swarm ships rode in the same arrowhead formation that they’d used when they passed Mars Station. “Show me the Invincible.” The screen jumped so de Santos could see the UEF warship riding herd about a hundred thousand kilometers off the port side of the enemy ships.

  Far enough that Captain Baltasar might be biding his time to make a coordinated attack—or he might be in league with the Swarm. Was it possible that all the communications channels on the Invincible were somehow offline?

  Not possible, de Santos decided. Something bad had happened on that ship. He only hoped his old friend was okay.

  “Time to Swarm contact with Lagrange?” The query came out more harshly than he intended. The few of them that had volunteered for this suicide mission were all on edge. Him barking at people was not going to make it any easier.

  “Seventy-three minutes, sir.”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant,” he said after a few minutes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “No offense taken, sir. I just . . . well, sir, I just want to say that whatever happens, it’s been an honor.”

  De Santos blinked hard. “Likewise, Lieutenant—and that’s all we’ll say about that.” He swung out of his chair. “I’m going to visit the torpedo bay.”

  It was a strange feeling to walk through an empty ship. Counting himself and the lieutenant, there were only ten people left onboard: two on the bridge, two in engineering, and six to handle torpedoes. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridors and he whistled to distract himself.

  His XO, Commander Joanie Michener, smiled as he came into the torpedo bay. Like the rest of her small team, she had stripped to her T-shirt and her face was red with exertion. “Hey, Skipper, we’re all ready for ET down here. All tubes loaded and another full spread standing by, if we have enough time to get them off before . . . whatever happens happens.” She realized she had talked herself into the one topic they’d all rather avoid.

  One of the mechanics, a burly woman with wideset eyes and a ready smile, spoke up. “We’ve been teaching the XO how to move torpedoes manually, sir.” She laughed.

  “What’s your name, sailor?” de Santos asked.

  The young woman blushed. “Sorry, sir, it’s Torpedoman Third Class Salyer.”

  De Santos held out his hand. “I’m glad to know you, Salyer. Thanks for being here.”

  “But sir, this is my torpedo bay. You need me. Nobody knows this place better than I do.”

  De Santos smiled. “I’m sure you’re right
, Salyer.” He pulled the XO aside. “Joanie, when this goes down, it’s going to happen fast. It’ll be a miracle if we get the chance to get off a second spread, but do your best.”

  “I understand, sir. We’ll be ready.”

  De Santos held out his hand. “Good luck, Commander.”

  She brushed his hand away and hugged him. Then she kissed him on the cheek. “I always wanted to do that,” she said. “You can court-martial me later, Christian.”

  ***

  The sound of the Swarm was maddening. The lieutenant was on the weapons panel now. They had no need for sensors anymore.

  “Time to intercept, Lieutenant?” de Santos said.

  “Eight minutes, sir.”

  Intercept in this case was point-blank range. Their plan was blindingly simple—or stupid, depending on your point of view. The theory was that the Swarm would not deploy their fighters unless provoked, so the Warrior was going to play dead in space dock, systems powered down, acting like they’d been abandoned. When the Swarm passed by, they were going to unload as many torpedoes as possible into the lead ship.

  And then deal with the consequences.

  “Warrior, this is Invincible. Come in.”

  It was Jason Baltasar’s voice. De Santos swallowed hard. He and the admiral had discussed this. Warrior was to maintain radio silence.

  The call came again: “Warrior, this is Invincible actual. Come in.” There was a pause. “Are you there, Christian? It’s Jason.”

  “Shall I answer the hail, sir?”

  “No.” De Santos wanted nothing more than to reply to the Invincible. He had no doubt that with Jason acting in concert, they could take out twice as many of these Swarm bastards. But orders were orders.

  “Time to intercept?” the captain said.

  “One minute, sir.”

  De Santos touched his keypad. “It’s almost showtime, XO.”