Storm Assault (Star Force Series)

by B. V. Larson

  “It does fit. Their super weapon crushes things, I can’t deny that. What I don’t understand is how they do it at range. Our grav plates only reach a few feet.”

  “That’s a power-relative range,” Marvin said, “but still, I don’t think they used gravity plates to achieve this destruction over such a long distance. Again, they used known technology but with superior techniques.”

  “So, they somehow caused the ship to implode? At about a million mile range?”

  “Yes, exactly. They didn’t place their gravity plates around the ship, but instead caused a gravity effect—an anomaly, if you will—to occur within the hull itself.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean now. That’s why everything is crunched down and nothing blew apart. They sucked it all together by making a high gravity field inside the ship. How large would that field have to be?”

  “Very difficult to say without further analysis. But really, it’s not a matter of the size of the field. If a single point in space sparked into existence, full of collapsed atoms, it could apply sufficient force.”

  I thought about it all the way back to Gatre and the more I did, the less I liked it. I had to admit, the theory fit the facts as we knew them.

  If Marvin was right in his theories, the Blues could essentially form a tiny black hole wherever they wanted to—and they’d chosen to do it in the middle of my ships. How could my fleet defend itself against that?

  -8-

  By the time I’d reached Gatre, I had a few new ideas as to how we could damage the monstrous ship that was now tagging along behind us—slowly—across the star system.

  “Mines,” I told Miklos at our next briefing, after Marvin and I laid out our theories concerning the nature of the enemy weaponry.

  “Mines, sir?” he asked skeptically. “But such devices have already proven ineffective. Our small ships and missiles were destroyed by an unfocussed gravity field when they got in close. What makes you think a mine would do better than a fighter or a missile?”

  “Timing and surprise,” I said. “The Blues—or in this case the one Blue, Tolerance, should be easy to fool. They’re not expert strategists. They lack experience in warfare. Hell, they barely know what a commanding officer is.”

  “When do you expect to employ these mines?” asked Miklos, crossing his arms.

  I could tell right away, looking at him and the rest of my staff, they weren’t impressed with my idea. Miklos liked ships, the more the merrier. And he was right that mines had been surpassed as useful weapons in recent times. The best place to employ them had always been on the far side of a ring where an enemy ship would run into them blindly. But recently in our wars, combatants had become wary. Every fleet commander had learned to send missiles through the rings to blow up mines before sending ships through, as well as using other techniques to defeat them.

  The Blues, however, did not have the benefit of our experience. I felt it would be possible to fool them with an old trick.

  “We’ll lay the mines where we always do, just on the far side of a ring.”

  As we looked it over, Miklos became more convinced it might work. Everything Tolerance had done so far hinted on naiveté. With luck, we could lure him to his death.

  “I’m liking the idea more and more,” Miklos said. “Except I suggest we plant one monstrous mine. A gigaton hydrogen bomb—at least that big. A planet-buster. That’s what we need to destroy Phobos—a huge single blast.”

  I was impressed by his willingness to gamble. “Why one huge mine?”

  “Because we’re only going to get one chance to destroy the ship. After that, Tolerance will not fall for the trick again. The ship will turn on its defensive fields or maybe send a weapon through each ring to clear the way.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly. “That would make sense. Unless we want to warn Phobos.”

  They all stared at me. Even Marvin seemed startled. His cameras had been floating around aiming at everyone but me. I’d noticed over recent weeks this had been a growing tendency on his part. During our command meetings, I usually did most of the talking. But Marvin seemed to have heard enough from me. His roving cameras were focused on anything else when I spoke. Now his cameras snapped around and caught my face from every conceivable angle.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I want to build mines, not to destroy Phobos, but to teach its neophyte captain what’s in store for him. How else will he break through Earth’s defenses if he just barrels in and gets blown away?”

  A storm of protests began after that. They could not believe I was seeking to aid the enemy ship in any way. They complained at my own naiveté. After a while, I cut them off with a chopping gesture.

  “Listen up,” I said, “I want to retake earth. That’s the goal, here.”

  “But what about the Macros and the Blues? We can’t just ignore them.”

  “We have to take them out one at a time. I consider the Macros to be safely controlled for now on the far side of our battle station. But Earth is a wild card with a fleet that we must assume they’ve been building up for months. They had strong defenses when the Macro’s hit them and wiped them out. We have to assume they’ve built back up since then. I want to let this big dumb ship barrel in there and take the initial hits for us. Then we’ll follow and mop up.”

  “Sir,” Miklos said, standing up, “we’ve yet to hear your plan for getting our own ships through Earth’s defenses.”

  “We’ll get into that when we reach the Alpha Centauri system,” I told him.

  The following days went by slowly and painfully. Usually, the entire trip to Earth took no more than a week’s time. But with this lumbering ox of a ship in tow, we had to go much more slowly. We were still in the Eden System, but we’d almost made it to the ring that led to Helios.

  I didn’t want to chance losing Phobos, so we didn’t get too far ahead. The last thing I needed was Tolerance getting ideas about visiting other targets in our home system. Fortunately, whatever else he was, Tolerance didn’t seem to be an imaginative tactician. He stayed on our tails as if he believed he was going to catch up to us any minute.

  I stretched and climbed out of my seat, leaving the bridge. I recalled then that Dr. Swanson had left me hanging on the subject of a second date—or rather, a second attempt at a date. I don’t think either of us felt entirely comfortable getting together yet. Sandra had only been gone for three or four months now, and the whole business of being back “in the game” felt strange to me. I didn’t know what Kate was thinking, but it seemed to change from one meeting to the next.

  I headed for the med lab, but I didn’t even make it to the main corridor before Jasmine showed up. She smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “That Blue really wants you, Kyle. I think at some point you really upset him.”

  “I’d have to agree,” I said, looking back toward the screens. We were standing in the hatchway, half in and half out of the bridge.

  “Are you headed below-decks?” I asked.

  “Okay,” she said, as if I’d given her an invitation.

  We began walking, and I began thinking fast. I couldn’t very well take her to the med lab. She knew the good doctor and I had a little thing going. My mind scrambled to come up with a new destination, all while making it look natural.

  “I could really use a beer,” I said.

  She gave me a slightly reproachful look. “I thought you had sworn off alcohol.”

  “Well, within reason. No more than a six pack a day. You know the nanites, the only effect that will have on a marine is to make him visit the head a few extra times.”

  “Is that all? Why drink it then?”

  I frowned slightly. She didn’t seem to want to go to the wardroom and have a beer. My first idea had been blown.

  “We can forget about that,” I said. “Maybe you’d rather play a round of pool?”

  She sucked in her breath and I caught her rolling her eyes. Sandra had been really good at pool, but she�
�d been heavily altered. Most of the Fleet people didn’t seem to enjoy the game the way the grunts did.

  “I would have to have a six pack first before I could enjoy breaking ribs,” she said finally. “Let’s just go to the bar. You were right in the first place. I shouldn’t have complained.”

  “I understand. There were some very recent problems with me and drinking. I’m not taking your reaction the wrong way. But this ship isn’t exactly a shopping mall back home. There’s only so much to do when you have free time.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. We should give our people more sources of entertainment. We offer them hard work with very little time off, and you can’t even stream a movie out here from Earth that is less than a decade old.”

  “Yeah.”

  It was a problem. Being cut off from Earth didn’t just mean a lack of provisions and fresh recruits. It also meant we were isolated from Earth’s culture.

  “I know what we can do,” she said suddenly. “I’ve got some movies to show you. New stuff from Earth. You might not like it, but they can be funny.”

  “Funny?” I frowned. “All right. Let’s get the beer first. Where we going to watch them?”

  There was an awkward pause. Our two cabins were quite close to one another, both being located on the officer’s quarters deck. But being seen entering either cabin together with a healthy serving of alcohol was going to start rumors for sure.

  “I’ve got it,” I said. “We’ll go to my office.”

  Taking beer into my office was nothing new for me. Many of my binges with Gaines had occurred right there at my desk—so many in fact I’d had to really work to eliminate every stash I had in hidden in that small space.

  That thought was followed up by a surprise meeting at the door to my office. It was none other than Major Gaines himself. He had his arms crossed and a bored look on his face. But when I came around the corner with Jasmine in tow, his expression changed.

  He looked at me, her and the beer in that order. Then he uncrossed his arms, smiled, and saluted.

  “Sorry sir,” he said, “I was just going to discuss troop-readiness with you. But I can see you have other official business to attend to.”

  “That’s right,” I said, “I’ll catch you later, Major.”

  He tossed us a salute and walked off down the corridor. Jasmine and I hurried into my office and closed the hatch before anyone else could catch us.

  “I’m sorry if you had other plans,” Jasmine said, “maybe I should have left instead of him.”

  “Nah, Gaines will be just fine. He just knew we had some downtime and probably was going to offer me a rematch in the pool room.”

  “How you two can spend so much time drinking and firing balls into one another—I don’t entirely get that.”

  “I know,” I said, “it’s a grunt thing. The pain on the other guy’s face makes it worth the pain on your own.”

  She shook her head wonderingly. She finally got out the beers and offered me one. I hesitated, then took it and fired it into my mouth. I felt some degree of relaxation come over me as I did so. It wasn’t the alcohol I told myself, it was the habit. I guess people who hadn’t smoked for a long time felt the same relief when they finally broke down and lit up again.

  Jasmine opened her own bottle and sipped it. She made a face, but kept going. Our beer wasn’t the best, but it was all that we had.

  “Where are these movies?” I said, hoping for a good laugh.

  She got out a chip and shoved it into a slot on the side of the main monitor. The slot automatically resized itself and read the data. Another nice thing about modern life was universal compatibility. Having smart-metal equipment meant you could shove an old DVD, a USB drive, or what have you into any machine’s slot. They would reshape themselves, figure out the format, and start operating.

  All that said, I wondered why she bothered to bring the movies on a chip. We had a central net on every ship. We could pull up anything with various levels of security. Any data she had in her cabin she should be able to pull down here. But she’d brought it along in physical form. I was about to ask her about it when the show began, and I soon learned the answer anyway.

  The transmission was slightly grainy. It was a transmission, I could tell that. I saw the Empire imagery roll up on the screen. Their logo was an eagle formed with angular, geometric shapes. It looked like a collage of sharp metal pieces. The music began next. It was tinny, and vaguely martial in nature.

  Already, my eyes were narrowing. I didn’t find Crow and his Empire funny. The next thing that came up was Crow himself.

  I was stunned. I hadn’t seen the man for years. He wore an ice cream white uniform and a cap circled by gold braids. There were colorful ribbons pinned here and there on his outfit, and a gold sunburst of metal hung around his neck like a medieval emblem of office.

  “Who the hell does he think he is?” I muttered.

  “Shhh,” Jasmine said. “It gets better.”

  I grabbed another beer and fired it down while I watched. Just seeing Crow made me want to strangle him. I began to think this whole entertainment idea had been a bad one.

  Next, the windbag gave a gusty speech. He talked about the unity of Earth and the plentiful bounty of the Empire. He went on about sacrifice and unflinching dedication to duty. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I felt my disgust build.

  Crow finally left the lectern. I felt relieved. I was on my third beer by then, while Jasmine still sipped her first. I tried to slow down, and made myself put the beer on the desk for a while.

  “Doesn’t he look absurd in his costume?” she asked.

  “I guess so.”

  The show continued.

  “The captives from the rebel worlds are ready, Emperor,” an announcer said, stepping into view. This joker wore black boots, a stone gray jumpsuit and a peaked cap that was as crisply folded as his nose. He was a tall man and he read from a scroll—an honest to god scroll—complete with golden tassels hanging from it.

  This part struck Jasmine as funny. I tried to smile, but failed.

  “The prisoners have been justly tried and found guilty of sedition, treason and refusal to renounce their false loyalties to failed states.”

  I leaned forward in alarm. “What the hell is this?” I asked, almost shouting.

  Jasmine glanced at me worriedly. “This is television from Earth—the evening news. It always begins with executions. Didn’t you know that?”

  I glowered. I’d heard some rumors, but I was usually so engrossed in military matters and simple management I hadn’t had time to really delve into the events occurring back on Earth. I’d felt that if I was working hard to overthrow the government, I was doing all I could. The details were distractions.

  The accused prisoners were pathetic, scrawny creatures with their heads clamped in metal cages. They were chained together, with one string of rattling links going from collar to collar. I couldn’t even identify them as the cage obscured their faces. I had no idea if they were Star Force people or not.

  Eventually, they were executed in a very clean and orderly way. I’d been cringing, expecting to see innocents have their heads lopped off. But instead, they were ordered to shuffle into a chamber—a moment later, the guy with the scrolls announced that the deed had been done.

  “What is that thing? Some kind of microwave?”

  “Yes. A giant, insta-kill oven. At least, that’s what our people think.”

  The video ended and I squinted at her in disbelief.

  “That wasn’t funny!” I roared.

  She jumped and looked guilty. “The funny part is that they never kill real Star Force people. No one that is even nanotized. Most of the marines that see it laugh at Crow’s pompous display and his jingling fake medals.”

  I had to force myself to calm down. “Yeah, I can see how that’s amusing. But we just watched people die. Innocent dissidents that probably pissed off their neighborhood watchman enough to get put o
n Crow’s shit-list.”

  I got up and began to pace. I was fuming. Jasmine stayed in her chair, looking small and worried.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s kind of an underground thing. People watch these transmissions and laugh.”

  “I can see why it’s underground. I can see why no one has the balls to show it to their commanders. What I don’t get is why you think it’s funny.”

  She looked upset. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t know it would hit you this way. It’s only Crow being absurd and Imperials executing their own kind. I understand that in most cases, the defendants in the dock are Imperial officers. They call them Star Force, but they are their own people. The fiction they maintain is that no Imperial would ever turn against Crow. It’s unthinkable, so they pretend it’s us.”

  “Totalitarianism is never funny,” I said. “Even if Crow is a caricature of every despot that ever lived, he’s still killing real people back home. One of them might have been the father of that girl—the one who...you know.”

  “Alexa Brighton? The one who killed Sandra?”

  I fumed. “Yes, right. Crow maintains power over his people through terror. How can he have become such a monster? He was not a bad guy to have a drink with years back. Now, I don’t know…”

  “I think he’s been getting worse for years. Maybe you didn’t see it because he was your friend originally.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure that I would have ever called him a friend. Not exactly. But he was a comrade in arms.”

  “You have a tendency to be too loyal to people who go bad, Kyle,” she said. “I’ve seen it more than once. Remember Barrera? Or General Kerr? You defended them both, not just Jack Crow.”

  I glanced at her, not liking what she was saying, but feeling unable to refute it.

  “You think I should be on the lookout for enemies even now?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who then? Who in my chain of command is a possible traitor today? Can you name one?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What about Gaines? Or Marvin?”