by Travis Hill
“Then you had better come up with a detailed plan that leaves nothing to chance and offers the greatest amount of success,” Irina replied. “These twenty thousand might be the last humans in the galaxy a thousand years from now.”
TWO
“Excuse me, Commander,” Captain Meyer said before Irina stepped into the lift. “May I talk to you for a moment?”
“Of course, Captain. I’m headed back to Deck 2.”
The two entered the lift, holding their conversation until a lieutenant and two ensigns exited on Deck 3.
“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked once the lift began to rise again.
“I’d like to know what the hell is going on with this ship,” he said.
“In what way?”
“In the way that this is not a real battleship.”
“Ah,” she said as the lift whispered to a stop.
She stepped out and continued toward her quarters. Meyer almost stayed behind long enough for the capsule to head to its next destination. Irina smiled when she heard the scritch of the captain’s shoes on the textured floor behind her.
“That’s it?” he asked after catching up. “Just ‘ah’?”
She stopped in front of her quarters. “What would you like to know, Captain?”
“Just what the fuck is going on,” he growled, trying to keep his voice low. There was enough tongue-wagging and rumor-mongering on a starship as it was.
“Please step into my cabin,” she said, turning to the door and pressing her palm to the ID plate.
She stepped through the open doorway then looked back at Meyer.
“You’re not going to try and seduce me or anything, are you?” he asked, his face genuinely puzzled.
Irina laughed. “No, Captain Meyer. I have no plans to seduce you. Please, step in so I do not have to explain exactly what this battleship is with half of your crew listening in.”
Meyer stepped into the small cabin. He couldn’t help the involuntary flinch when he heard the door panel slide shut behind him.
“What’s the matter, Captain?” she asked, a grin on her face. “Afraid of being alone with a woman?”
“More like afraid of being alone with a Special Forces commander who has just taken control of my fleet and cut our Wire, then told us if we survive a multi-leg suicide mission, we’re to keep running until we run out of galaxy.”
“Don’t worry, Rickus,” she said, enjoying his second flinch at hearing her use his first name. “I’d make your death look like an accident.”
She laughed when his face turned white for a few seconds. Irina gestured to one of two chairs in the cabin, then went to a small storage cabinet. Meyer wasn’t sure if she would have booze or a flechette pistol in her hand when she turned around. The Special Forces agent had neither, instead holding a flexible tablet screen. She sat down in the other chair after attaching the screen to the wall between them.
“Raiden is not an ordinary heavy battleship,” she said, smiling again at the look he gave her, as if she were the dumbest human in the galaxy. “As you know, Raiden is the name of a god in Japanese mythology.”
“The god of thunder, right?” Meyer asked.
“And lightning. You’ve probably noticed in the month you’ve been at the helm that she carries no external weaponry beyond the flak launchers, torpedo tubes, and the forward and aft heavy anti-missile batteries.”
Meyer nodded his head. “And the four extra fusion power plants and the two extra shield generators.”
“Yes, plus the thicker armor, and the most up-to-date firmware for Tactical and C&C.”
“What the hell is this ship, Commander?”
Irina tapped her wrist comm. The flex screen on the wall came to life, a 3D holoframe of the heavy battleship slowly rotating on it. She tapped her comm again. The image zoomed to the rear third of the ship, Raiden’s eight fusion reactors highlighted with a white glow.
“These are your four main and four auxiliary reactors,” she said. She tapped again, and thousands of white dots began to glow on the outer hull. “These are your upgraded shield relays. But here—” she tapped again, this time the image rotated until it showed the entire ship, its front and rear quarters glowing white. “—is the main purpose of Raiden. There are two R-Scale zettawatt XBD generators in each quarter of the ship, with two more backup reactors between them.”
“Jesus,” Meyer breathed. He’d heard the whisperings, like all combat personnel had, about the X-Ray Bombardment Device. “You do realize that if they are activated, they’ll fry the entire crew, right?”
“I’m aware of that, Captain. I’m also aware that the maximum pulse range is 1AU. Optimum range to guarantee lethality for both meat and machine is .5AU or less.”
“We aren’t supposed to survive at all, are we?” he asked, his tone accusatory.
“I’m afraid not, Captain,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “We are to sacrifice everything, including ourselves and our crew, if that’s what it takes to succeed. I have no doubt that we’ll be required to make that choice sooner rather than later.”
“What happens if we come to that point before we’ve launched Genesis-3 and -4?”
“Genesis-5 is programmed to proceed beyond Alpha Point autonomously.”
“You really think a seedship is going to be able to handle the refueling around a gas giant? Especially with hostiles gunning for it?”
“No,” she said, finally looking away. “That’s why we have to succeed.”
“So… Do you really think the Kai would dream of letting one of our ships get close enough to use the XBD?”
“No, of course not,” Irina said. “That’s where you come in. As the flagship, we’re to stay out of danger as much as possible. If we happen to make it to Alpha Point, then we’re to do the opposite.”
“Ramming speed,” Meyer said with a chuckle.
“Whatever it takes to get all, or at least a majority of their ships into a half-AU bubble.”
“We’re an awfully huge target.”
“Unfortunately, zettawatt XBD generators don’t fit into light cruisers and fighter-bombers. Neither do the fusion reactors which power them.”
“I already didn’t like this plan,” Meyer grumbled. “I like it even less now.”
“If it helps, Captain, I volunteered for this mission.”
“You got a shitty husband or wife at home you had to run from?” he asked. “Or just a death wish?”
“Neither. I have only a distant cousin left after Eridani. I’m in it because I’ve seen what the Kai do to their enemies.”
“I’m sorry,” Meyer said. Eridani had been one of the worst fleet disasters of the war—the system and fifty light-years around it had gone dark within days.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry if you have family or friends and didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I truly am. I know what it’s like. But I believe this mission is too important to worry about anything other than completing it successfully.”
***
“Let’s get started,” Captain Meyer said to the gathered officers. Ninety-six faces turned expectantly toward him. “For those of you who have not officially met me yet, I’m Captain Rickus Meyer of TCN Raiden. I’m Silver Fleet’s XO. Our commander is Admiral Mattias Huang.” He nodded toward the admiral a few meters from him. “This is Commander Irina Drazek from the United Coalition Strategic Forces.”
The officers instantly became alert. The fleet blacking out their Wire for exercises wasn’t that rare, nor was having a Fleet Admiral within the task force, especially one headed directly into an enemy-controlled region. The blind jump to the outer edge of human territory ten hours before had caused a lot of chatter between the ships’ officers on the local net. A Special Forces operative attached to the fleet meant something unusual was about to take place.
“Thank you, Captain,” Irina said, turning to look at the half-circle of gathered commanders.
She fired up the tactical holo pit in the center
of the room and took a few steps toward it. A slice of the galaxy rotated and expanded until the Orion Spur floated in the air. Irina began to explain the basic plan to the officers, rotating and zooming the hologram image until it showed their current location, a secondary image coming to life beside the map that presented a simulation of the rendezvous with Genesis-1 and Genesis-2. She watched the officers’ faces, pleased to see the men and women of Task Force Nightfall concentrating on the holo pit images and her words.
“Questions?” she asked after finishing the presentation.
“When will we have access to the Wire again?” Captain Fitzhugh asked. Irina’s comm informed her that he commanded TCN Hercules, one of the fleet’s carriers.
“We will not be connected to the Wire for the duration of this mission,” Captain Meyer said after clearing his throat.
“At all?” asked another voice, Captain Dala, TCN Gemini’s XO. “Or just during active engagements?”
“The Wire is permanently disabled,” Meyer said.
The uproar from the officers was expected. Meyer waited a full minute in silence before taking control again.
“Quiet!” he shouted. All eyes turned to him. “I don’t want to hear anyone bitching and moaning about the fucking Wire. Got it? It’s down, and it’s down for good for all of Silver Fleet. There’s nothing to be done about it other than accept it.”
“How the hell are we going to navigate with our FTL drives?” Captain Yurikov asked.
“Easy,” Admiral Huang said, speaking for the first time. “You’re going to tell Sunrise’s computers to jump to the coordinates Raiden feeds it. You do have a working Nav-Comp in your battleship, don’t you, Captain?”
Yurikov’s face turned red. “Of course, Admiral Huang. I’m just a little nervous about jumping around the galaxy without being able to ping the navigation beacons.”
“You’re not the only one, Captain,” Huang said, giving Irina a dark look. “However, it’s a necessary evil. Consider what Commander Drazek has told you. It is imperative that at least one of these five seedships travels far beyond the Kai’s reach. It would make me a lot happier to know that we’d nailed five out of five, as that’s a hell of a lot better odds.”
Meyer cleared his throat again. “The Admiral, Commander Drazek, and I discussed not informing you of this last bit of information, but in the end, we agreed it was necessary for you to know. If it is not a red flag indicator of just how important our mission is, then you must be drunk or hypoxic.” A few chuckles wafted over the gathered officers. “Once this mission is complete, all surviving ships and crew are to turn and make for the Centaurus Arm. There is no going home.”
The chuckles died out in an instant. No one said a word, waiting for Meyer to continue. When it was apparent he had nothing more to add, the whispers erupted, which quickly rose to a buzzing conversation.
“Captain Meyer is correct,” Irina said loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “We feel it’s better that you know this now. The Admiral could order you to keep this information from your crews, but has decided to leave that up to you. You know your crews better than we do.”
“Bullshit,” Captain Benka said. “I’ve had this command for a month. I barely know my CIC First Shift, let alone the rest of my own officers.”
Shouts of agreement came from all sides until Irina raised her hand for silence.
“I’m well aware of this,” she said, realizing she’d used the phrase at least twenty times since opening the message from SF Command. “That’s thirty days more than Command could have given you. If you’re unsure of their ability to deal with this information, then keep it to yourselves. You need to know because humanity needs you to understand the importance, so you’ll perform at your very best every step of the way.”
“Sounds like blackmail,” a voice said, getting a round of laughter from the officers.
“I suppose it is,” Irina agreed. “However, I’m a firm believer in humanity’s ability to go far beyond expectations when the game is on the line and the clock is about to expire.”
***
“That went rather well,” Huang said after everyone had cleared the room and made their way to the shuttle bays.
“To be honest,” Irina said, “I’m a bit surprised as well.”
“You did say that Command picked out the best of the best, both in talent and psychological makeup,” Meyer said.
“Yeah,” Huang said, “but you know how it goes. Get ten humans in a room and one of them will disagree that there are ten of them in the room.”
“Or that they’re even in a room,” Irina said, finishing the old joke. “I think they realized the situation when we told them the Wire was down permanently.”
“I don’t think they believed that part until we told them to check with their own ALVINs to verify the destruction of every ship’s Wire transmitters,” Meyer said. He’d felt his own heart drop when the comm system verified the Wire had failed after the flash code fried every major piece of silicon within it.
“Either way,” Huang said, “Drazek is enough to spook them into believing in ghosts if that’s what we wanted to tell them. The Wire and the part about not going home sealed the deal.”
“Captain,” Irina said, “please let me know when you plan to have the virtual conference with the officers. I’d like to sit in on it, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem,” Meyer said. “I’ll send the word out before I turn the ship over to Sawalha. We’ll shoot for 1200 hours. By then, ALVIN should have an idea of where and when we go based on the data SF Command provided. I’ll get with the carrier commanders to coordinate an overlapping CAP with an outer ring of automated drones. Navigation and Tactical should have an efficient track to catch the seedships in-transit, assuming their automated systems initiated the deceleration burns at the correct times.”
“Excellent,” Irina said. “This is how I want it to go. Admiral, Captain, you two are still in charge. Just like before. I know it’s shitty to have me hanging around your necks, but the mission is more important than our egos. Take care of business. I’m here to mostly observe and make sure we succeed. I can’t do it with either of you wasting energy on resentment.”
“Understood, Commander,” Meyer said, giving her a crisp salute.
Admiral Huang frowned at the Special Forces operative for a few seconds, then saluted to let her know he’d heard her loud and clear.
THREE
“Fleet is five-by-five for translation, Sir,” Lieutenant Korrigar said from the navigator’s pad within the holo pit.
“Roger that,” Captain Meyer said, glancing over to the XO’s chair. Commander Drazek stared at the three-dimensional data from within a Combat Controller’s helmet. “Initiate jump.”
Rickus Meyer felt his muscles tense, the same as they did every single time a ship he was in made a jump from real space through… something… before coming out on the other side. As far as he knew, no human had ever felt the effects of the jump. The explanation he’d received at the Academy, since he was on track to command status instead of engineering, astrogation, or the other support tracks that would need to know the nuts and bolts of how such things worked, was that the translation from real space to quantum space then back to real space took no time at all, yet took an eternity. It had made his head hurt then, thinking about how another Rickus Meyer was still in transit to somewhere, and would be a billion years in the future, long after the real Rickus Meyer had arrived less than a second after translation. When he thought about the thousands of jumps he’d made in his career, it made him queasy to think there might be thousands of him endlessly translating from one point to another.
“Translation confirmed, Sir,” Lt. Korrigar said.
“Disperse fleet,” Meyer ordered, sitting down in his control chair. “Delta-Six pattern. Sound the alarm and drop us into GP-6’s orbit. Keep the drone carriers in with us. Standard CAP.”
“Aye, Sir,” she acknowledged.
Warning kla
xons blared as the standard lighting throughout the ship darkened to amber, alerting all crew to secure themselves for acceleration. Within thirty seconds, the tug of gravity pressed everyone into their chairs or acceleration couches, the ship’s lighting switching to a light pink. Irina watched from within her helmet as the green icons of the various ships began to disperse in a wide pattern while accelerating toward the system’s sixth planet. She used her fingers to tap the chair’s tactical command screen to pull up various windows and information panels, pinning or maximizing them in her visor as she sifted through through the data.
The refueling timer was already at three minutes, while the estimate timer counted backward from eighteen hours. She minimized the panels, revealing two more timers. The jump timer was synced to the refueling timer, its countdown rolling backward from three days. Irina felt her jaw begin to ache from clenching it too tightly while she scanned the rest of the relevant data. Most of it relayed updated predictions of their chances to refuel before combat should an enemy jump into the system. She watched the trajectory paths of the fifty-two ships of Silver Fleet as they wound around the gas giant, a few degrees above the plane to minimize contact with the planet’s ring system.
“Christ,” Meyer said in her helmet.
Irina cleared her visor and looked to the captain’s chair.
“Problems, Captain?” she asked innocently.
“How many drones did you lose before nailing those coordinates?” he asked. She imagined his face was an ashen gray behind the blacked-out visor. “Christ,” he grumbled again. “COs are gonna be crying about this until your next step into insanity. Ma’am.”
Commander Drazek laughed, getting a few looks from the CIC operators near her.
“I had a few translation points to choose from,” she said into her throat mic. “You don’t want to know about the one that would have us refueling in less than two hours.”
Irina was sure she saw him shiver and chuckled again. She had fed the coordinates into Raiden’s navigation computer ten hours before their jump, but without a Wire connection, the best anyone in the fleet had been able to guess was they would translate in-system a few light-hours from GP-6, then spend a week burning to get into orbit around it. The Special Forces commander had put them less than ten light-seconds from the gas giant’s outer moon, a navigation plot so dangerous that humans had only attempted it under extreme duress. She was sure Captain Meyer had paid enough attention to his history lessons to know that almost all ships larger than a small frigate had been subjected to spectacular failure with such a close-proximity translation. Gravity is a merciless whore, was all Major Streit had said when she’d asked about previous attempts resulting in disaster.