by Travis Hill
The Kai’s unpredictable technology always disrupted the battlefield, forcing humans to react to tactics no human navy in history had ever encountered. The brass at Command had argued endlessly about whether the Kai ships were so potent in space because they had true AI entities far beyond the rudimentary quantum computers humans mistakenly labeled “artificial intelligence.” Irina was of the mind that if the Kai had such powerful artificial entities, they wouldn’t be nearly as bad at ground warfare. Whenever she’d voiced that opinion, there was always someone who would point out that the Kai might have given up ground warfare for tens of thousands of years before coming across an enemy tenacious enough an army was required to guarantee total extermination.
“One minute to translation,” Hellewege said.
“Sound the alarm,” Meyer ordered.
“Alert. Alert. Combat maneuvers in thirty seconds. Alert. Alert. Combat maneu—”
Irina cut the feed from the ship’s comm. The bridge was a bloody sunset once again, giving her dark sense of humor something to find mirth in. If we’re squished like bugs from the g-forces, they’ll have to turn the lights back to normal to see us. She couldn’t stop the short chuckle that escaped from her throat, her jaw protesting louder than her eyes for once.
“Something funny?” Admiral Huang said in a strained voice.
“Rotten tomatoes,” was all she said before it became too painful to open her mouth again.
***
Sixteen seconds after translation, Silver Fleet made the turn toward the next jump point. Irina watched the information displays until she could no longer keep her eyes open. Even closed, it felt as if someone attempted to force hard foam into her eye sockets. Before she’d closed her eyes, Silver Fleet topped ten gravities while moving at a quarter the speed of light—and was still climbing as they made the hard turn that pointed them toward the center of the galaxy. After another three hours, she wanted to scream in pain but could barely force her chest to rise when she inhaled.
The dark, crushing atmosphere of the acceleration couch did its best to induce claustrophobia. She took her test in the sensory deprivation tank while in training, and like almost everyone else, began to mentally and emotionally unravel after two hours. The only difference between the tank and her current situation was the sensation of having the life literally squeezed out of her.
Irina knew the gel material was tied into the ship’s tactical network and wouldn’t retract while under lethal acceleration even if she used her command override. ALVIN wasn’t smart enough to be considered a true AI, but it was smart enough to know humans sometimes made ridiculously bad decisions—like trying to eject themselves from an acceleration couch while under 15g of force. She knew she was in trouble when her mind was no longer able to focus on anything beyond screaming, begging, and threatening ALVIN to let her out of the couch
Irina woke to klaxons and the same blood-red combat lighting. Her legs ached, as did her head. Silver Fleet had completed the second jump then immediately flipped to begin deceleration. The navigation data in her visor let her know the fleet peaked at .33c before braking for nine hours under punishing gravity, and would flip again to change course once the fleet slowed to under .05c.
“Welcome back, Commander,” Huang said over the command channel after noticing Irina’s slow movements to extract herself from the gel padding.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“Almost sixteen hours,” Huang answered.
“What happened?”
“All but the jocks from the carriers succumbed to the forces of nature,” Meyer said. “Basically, we all blacked out for a while.”
“Last I looked, we were over 10g,” she said, rubbing her thighs with her knuckles.
“Tactical playback shows us hitting just under 19g before the second translation,” Huang said.
“It seems your friends have given us some upgrades,” Meyer said. “Extra refueling drones, extra fusion reactors, advanced gel materials, extra thrust power…”
“Times fifty-two,” Huang added. “Every ship in the fleet kept up without any issue. ALVIN only had to make three course corrections over the entire run, and two of those were for Hyperion, the other for San Antonio. No casualties or injuries from the sustained acceleration.”
Irina knew both ships Huang had mentioned were carriers, with Hyperion being one of the newest ships in the entire fleet. The Navy considered it a supercarrier class of ship for its ability to store three times the number of heavy bombers as a typical carrier like San Antonio. Carriers were second to none when it came to offensive and defensive support, but their size and odd shape made their ability to maintain a stable thrust acceleration a challenge. The fighter jocks aboard the carriers would have most likely laughed at those around them for passing out at 12g. Their Wyvern and Piranha fighters regularly pulled a dozen gravities during combat maneuvers as they harassed Kai capital fleets, and their special flight suits and modular cockpits were able to keep their insides from compressing into a slushy margarita up to the 25g mark.
“Captain Meyer,” Lt. Ken said an hour later. “We have Genesis-1’s transponder on the darkband.”
“No Genesis-2?” Irina asked.
“Negative, Commander,” Lt. Ken.
“Location?” Meyer asked, his face full of concern as to what might have happened to the second seedship.
“She was hiding behind Four-Three,” the comm officer answered.
“Set a course for us, Lt. Korrigar,” Meyer instructed. “Lt. Ken, send the authorization codes and power up her autonomous systems. Lt. Hellewege, nudge her into our path and we’ll take her with us once we’ve refueled.” A chorus of ayes answered him. He switched to the command channel. “What do you think?”
“I’m worried about where Genesis-2 might be,” Irina said.
“Is it possible the Kai intercepted her somehow?” Admiral Huang asked from somewhere within the ship.
“Unlikely,” Irina answered. “With the Kai, though…”
“Is it possible they have the ability to pick off our ships at those speeds?” Sawalha asked.
“That’s the problem,” Irina answered. “-1 and -2 were supposed to travel under light acceleration. They should have been moving at less than one-tenth cee.”
“How the hell did they get all the way out here if Command has them doing as few translations as possible?” Huang asked.
“I don’t know,” Irina said.
“Sirs? Ma’am?” Lt. Ken asked, breaking into their conversation.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Meyer said.
“The… The transit clock embedded in Genesis-1’s transponder has been active for twelve years,” she said hesitantly.
“Commander,” Admiral Huang growled in Irina’s earbud, “I thought you said this mission was approved only a year ago.” His voice was colder than the vacuum surrounding Raiden’s hull.
“That’s what I was told, Admiral,” she said, worried that Admiral Karlsson had kept her in the dark about some of Command’s plans. Or worse, had her take over a fleet without proper authorization from the Assembly or Chancellor Ryley. “The orders I executed mirrored the information I was given to plan Silver Fleet’s role in completing Nightfall.”
“It’s too bad those ‘orders’ conveniently self-wiped an hour after receiving them, Commander,” he said icily.
“I’m sorry to interrupt again, Sirs, Ma’am,” Lt. Ken said on the general channel. “We’re now receiving Genesis-2’s transponder on the darkband.”
“What’s the transit clock say?” Meyer asked.
“Sir, it’s showing nine years, three months, and eleven days since activation,” Ken answered. After an uncomfortable pause, the lieutenant unaware of the scene playing out on the command channel, she cleared her throat softly. “Should I relay the same instructions for it, Captain?”
“Affirmative, Lieutenant,” Meyer said, grinning behind his visor. He was interested in the drama erupting between the Special For
ces officer and his admiral. “Looks like we found her after all,” he said on the command channel.
“Oh,” Admiral Huang said with mock hurt, “and only a few moments after Commander Drazek got caught with her pants down. I don’t know what game you’re playing, Commander, but I’m going to find out—and for your sake it had better damn well be one authorized by the Coalition.”
Irina let him vent, deciding to ignore Huang for the moment instead of ordering him to keep his mouth closed. She hoped the admiral would hold in his venom until they could have a discussion away from the bridge, away from everyone else except Meyer (and possibly Sawalha). It wouldn’t be good for morale if she had him detained to his quarters.
Or spaced out the airlock, she thought with an evil grin, thankful the visor covered most of her face.
“Admiral,” she said, her voice neutral, “we’ll discuss this soon. In the meantime, we have other things to worry about.”
As if on cue, Raiden’s lights dimmed to a deep amber glow, soothing except for the blaring klaxon sounding throughout the ship in preparation for acceleration maneuvers. The sense of weightlessness faded as the tug of gravity pushed her into the gel padding. The lighting returned to normal when the fleet finished aligning maneuvers ten minutes later. Their trajectory would have them pass between the fourth planet and its third moon, picking up Genesis-1 and -2 on their fourth orbit, before using another slingshot to fling the task force toward the next jump point.
***
Irina passed the time avoiding Admiral Huang, choosing to spend it in her personal quarters. The files pertaining to Nightfall had been wiped one hour after the authorization codes were confirmed—giving her just enough time to study the instructions Command had attached to the orders, but no way to do any real investigation into the inconsistencies of the directive other than to rely on her memory. The orders she’d been given had assured her, with all of the proper authorization and confirmation protocols, that her mission was the will of the entire Coalition. She sighed at how long it would take her to piece it all together from the tactical instructions and translation plots she’d fed to ALVIN.
It took her a few moments of questioning her ethics before deciding that even if the entire Coalition wasn’t onboard with the directive, Commander Irina Drazek, United Coalition Strategic Forces, would be. The problem with that centered around the fact that if the directive didn’t have full approval (or even the knowledge of its existence) of the Assembly, she was essentially a traitor to the Coalition, which meant to all remaining human beings. Irina wondered what kind of fool would refuse to consider a plan like Nightfall, then remembered she’d wasted too much energy contemplating that question since Admiral Karlsson had called on her more than a year ago to lead the mission. He was furious each time Nightfall was soundly rejected by the Assembly, and nearly apoplectic after finding out the majority of the brass at Joint Command had been the ones to repeatedly kill it.
Her comm chimed for the fifth time in the last hour. Irina sighed and decided to answer it, knowing Huang wouldn’t leave her alone until he got his answers. Part of the reason she didn’t want to have the talk with him was because it would only make the man more upset when her uninformed answers or lack of knowledge failed to satisfy his curiosity.
“Yes, Admiral?” she asked, keeping her expression friendly.
“You know what I want,” Huang said. “I’m outside your door.”
Irina sighed again and sent the command for her door to allow the admiral entry. She wasn’t surprised to see Captain Meyer and Captain Sawalha trailing him.
“Are we a captain-less ship?” she asked Meyer.
“Lt. Commander Anders has the helm,” Meyer replied.
The three naval officers stood, unsure of where to sit with only two chairs in the cramped quarters. Irina gestured for Admiral Huang to take a seat. She almost ordered the other two to stand at-ease but knew the last thing they wanted was to follow any orders she issued.
“Tell us what the fuck is going on,” Huang demanded before anyone else could speak.
“Admiral, this is what I know. You can choose to believe me or not, but without a Wire connection, there’s no way to talk to Admiral Karlsson or anyone else to find out exactly what kind of shit storm I’ve been handed.”
She paused, looking the three officers in the eyes one by one. All three nodded, though Huang’s face warned Irina that he wasn’t sure he’d believe her if she told him they were aboard a battleship.
“Core Admiral Karlsson sent for me sixteen months ago. When I arrived, he explained how we were losing the war, complete with charts, datasheets, graphs, and advanced simulations. The information was clear that we were losing, though I didn’t need Command’s computers to collate it for me to know the truth. I’ve been deployed enough to know we’re not going to make it for more than another decade, probably less if we keep losing fleets at an accelerated pace.”
“Fucking Hanura and The Seven,” Huang growled.
“Exactly,” Irina said. “With those two gone, we’re now facing the full brunt of the Kai military—or I should say, the Kai Navy. Regardless, Admiral Karlsson and those who came before him knew this was an eventual possibility, all the way back to the second decade of the war, when we were at our strongest, stealing as much tech as we could get our hands on. Even when we surpassed the Hanura and The Seven in military power, all it did was help us get our asses kicked a little less.”
“A lot less than them, anyway,” Sawalha muttered.
“True.”
“This isn’t telling us anything new,” Huang said, irritated that Irina was avoiding the question.
“You’re right, Admiral,” Irina said, giving him a genuine smile. “I’m just telling you how I came upon this situation we find ourselves in. Anyway, the orders handed to me had the full authorization of all necessary parties. It passed all the security checks and was signed by Chancellor Ryley.”
“One year ago?” Meyer asked.
“Yes.”
“Then how the fuck have these two ships been in transit for a dozen years?” Huang nearly shouted the question.
“I don’t know, Admiral,” Irina admitted. “My guess is that twenty years ago, when this plan was hatched, UCSF’s predecessor began to build the ships and take care of the details of such a journey. Or maybe the UCSF was created solely to bring about Nightfall, who knows? A dozen years ago, the ships, maybe all five seedships, maybe just -1 and -2, were ready to launch.”
“You think they just filled the seedships and sent them on their journey, assuming the Assembly and everyone else would go along?” Sawalha asked.
“It seems like the smart thing to do,” Huang said, rubbing his chin. “If I was one of the Core Admirals, I would have certainly assumed the mission couldn’t possibly be rejected.”
“Karlsson never said much about that part,” Irina offered, trying to fill in the blanks for everyone including herself. “I assumed that everything had been done recently, especially after unsealing the orders. I asked ALVIN whether or not the transponder’s clocks could have malfunctioned or been tampered with. For a computer, he swears up and down that there’s no possible way transponders can be accessed without leaving evidence—unless it’s a Kai hack, but the Kai would have destroyed the ships the instant they showed up on scan.”
“That’s a hell of a lot easier to believe than the Kai hacking the transponders to add a decade to their transit clocks,” Sawalha said. “Why would they even do such a thing?”
“This is getting deeper into nonsensical territory,” Huang said, his tone more bewildered than angry now. “I don’t even want to think about how it might be some kind of faction-driven agenda executed outside the chain of command.”
“What about -3 and -4?” Meyer asked, his expression one of deep thought and mild frustration.
“As far as I know, they were launched ten months ago, though they were launched from a location that required a lot less travel, and from what I remem
ber of the information, they’d been subjected to six months at 16g. We’ll rendezvous with them at just over 4g before we jump to their final embarkation.”
“And -5?” Huang asked.
“I assume the same as -3 and -4.”
“You sure don’t seem to know much about much, Commander,” Huang grumbled. “Or are you just blowing smoke up our asses because it’s required by the security clearance of this directive?”
“You’ll forgive me, Admiral, if it’s habit to be close-lipped and keep secrets. It has been my job for almost a decade. Nothing we’ve done has set off warning bells in my head until that moment in the bridge.”
“Bullshit.”
“Believe what you want,” she said coldly. “The truth is, other than the tactical and navigational data I’ve been feeding the fleet, I’m just as in the dark as you.”
“So what you’re saying, then,” Meyer said, his lips forming into a severe frown, “is that either you’re following illegal orders, you’re following your own orders while using Nightfall’s authorization codes to take control of the fleet, or you’re in collusion with a rogue element of the UCSF.”
“Isn’t that the same as following illegal orders?” Irina asked.
“It isn’t if you have no idea the orders you are following are illegal. If you know it and choose to follow them anyway, that’s even more serious. The penalty carries a sentence of immediate execution in a time of war. Within a deployed task force, the fleet commander can have you executed on the spot without a trial.”
The room was silent while everyone pondered Meyer’s words. Irina’s mind began to plan which one of them to kill or incapacitate first should it come to that. She knew the three would have to arrive at a decision on their own. Any words from her would be useless. After two full minutes, Huang broke the silence.