by Travis Hill
“So… this is just a sort of final ‘fuck you’ to the Kai?” Meyer asked. Irina nodded her head. “But it’s also to cover our tracks?”
“Essentially,” Irina admitted.
“And we translated all of our mass-destruction weapons into these systems the moment Nightfall was activated?” Huang asked, still unsure of what All-Stop’s true mission was.
“No, of course not,” Irina said, now staring into the admiral’s eyes. “UCSF spent the last few years before Nightfall got underway seeding the weapons into star systems, planet surfaces, orbital stations, asteroid belts, planetary rings, and so forth.”
“And this will hurt the Kai how?” Huang persisted. “They’ve been able to knock out every single spy drone we’ve ever translated into their territory.”
“Ah,” Irina said with a slight grin. “Maybe not every drone…’”
“I fucking hate spooks and I fucking hate your goddamn need to wander around the point instead of just getting to it,” Huang growled. “So do us a favor and get to the fucking point, please.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Irina said without a trace of sarcasm. “I truly am. Old habits. The Coalition’s R&D arm rolled out a new hull some years ago, one that has around a fifty percent chance of evading Kai sensors. The UCSF spent the first three years sending tens of thousands of test drones into active combat arenas, then into Kai territory itself.”
“Great,” Meyer said. “How come these new hulls didn’t help us win the war? Or at least stave off extinction for a few more years?”
“The problem has to do with how these hulls are definitely not combat-capable, and they are incompatible with the fleet ships already in service.”
“How so?”Sawalha asked from the bridge.
“Because of the materials composition, the electronics and communications systems had to be completely redesigned to work properly once enclosed by the hull. Coalition warships show up as fiery orange and red blobs on comm sensors from the almost unfathomable amount of data that is processed both within the ship’s systems as well as the links with the other vessels in the fleet.”
“Of course,” Huang said with disgust, but Irina knew it wasn’t directed at her. “The Coalition engineers something that might actually help us, but it’s so new and shiny that none of our old shit works with it.”
“Exactly,” Irina said with a nod. “Imagine hearing we have this hull, then hearing more than thirty thousand capital ships alone would need their internals gutted and rebuilt. Even then, the shapes of the ships themselves inhibit the ‘stealth’ qualities that make the hull effective in avoiding the Kai’s sensors.”
“It isn’t surprising,” Meyer said, lost in deep thought for a few moments as his mind turned over the information. “We’ve always dreamed of an STD. It’s pretty fucking ironic that the STD turns out to either be something useful for non-combat ships or something that will guarantee any pockets of human survivors will meet the same fate as the rest of mankind.”
“The goal of All-Stop is to make sure the Kai cannot—or will not—stick around human space long enough to enjoy their spoils of war. It’s also meant to disrupt their economy and manufacturing ability. Some of those involved in the decision-making process have openly fantasized that the Rathalans and others who have military power in the neighborhood will see it as an opening to exact revenge—or even put the Kai to the torch like they’ve done to so many others over tens of thousands of years.”
“Of course some beer-gut shitbird behind a desk would fantasize about that,” Huang growled. “Probably jerked himself into a triple-orgasm frenzy while replaying a 3D simulation of the event.”
“To be fair, Admiral, most of the officers I met during my initiation into Nightfall did not believe this for a second. They believed that with the success rate of seeding these weapons all across human, Hanura, and The Seven’s old territory, they’d keep the Kai from spending too much time mopping up anything that wasn’t destroyed by All-Stop. The fact that we successfully seeded at least twenty thousand devices in Kai territory raises that hope a little more to include knocking out a large percentage of their mining, refining, and manufacturing abilities.”
“Do any of these people actually believe the Kai park their essential industries anywhere but deep within their core systems?” Sawalha asked.
“Until these new hulls were introduced, we had very little data on the Kai’s territory outside of the few hundred light-years we charted back in the early days of the war—when we were still stupidly jumping fleets into their systems.”
Everyone was silent for a few seconds, remembering their history lessons from both school and The Academy. It was no secret the Coalition thought the Kai were capable foes and tried to penetrate deep into enemy space to put them on the defensive early in the war. The fate of almost one million men and twenty thousand ships was even less of a secret.
“Once the new spy drones were able to evade the Kai’s defenses, we got a much clearer picture of the enemy,” Irina continued. She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Let’s just say the Kai are far more powerful and have far more territory than we ever imagined. That being said, however, the drones were able to help us pinpoint key planetary systems, orbital operations, and highly trafficked routes. We never made it to their core worlds, but that wasn’t unexpected since we were jumping blindly into unexplored and extremely hostile territory.”
“Okay,” Meyer said, standing up so he could pace about the room. “So, we launch the seedships, and All-Stop covers for us by blowing up everything at once. Including some of these ‘key’ pieces of Kai infrastructure. What’s to say that it doesn’t make them angry enough to put all of their resources into finding out just what the fuck Nightfall and Genesis were up to?”
“Nothing, of course,” Irina said. She watched the man step absently around furniture as he continued pacing. “Even if they have ten thousand times more mining and shipbuilding capacity, the loss of those major resource areas coupled with the fact that none of those systems will be inhabitable for tens of thousands of years will at least shock them. Assuming they have any concept of shock or surprise.”
“The Kai have always been good at detecting radiological weapons,” Huang said. “Almost as good as plotting our translation exits.”
“True enough,” Irina said. “But most of these weapons were seeded even before the Kai invaded our core systems.”
“Wait,” Sawalha said, keeping her voice low. Irina imagined Sawalha had a subordinate nearby within audible range. “You’re saying these weapons were already in-system before the Kai started taking territory from us? Our people were fighting on top of a dynamite pile?”
“Yes,” Irina said. “We were unable to seed Kai space with these weapons until the new hulls were put into production. But Henzen, for example, has almost eight hundred fusion weapons placed across the its surface, with a few hundred around each planet in geosynchronous orbit. TS-9 alone has almost ten thousand megatons of ordinance stuffed within. Or had, I guess I should say. I have no doubt All-Stop has already been activated.”
“Jesus,” Huang breathed. “TS-9 has almost fifty thousand civilians on it alone!”
Irina knew exactly how many civilians and military personnel had been stationed on TS-9, the Coalition’s third-largest shipyard and refueling/rearming platform. She also knew TS-9 was ordered evacuated three days before she caught the shuttle to Raiden. Henzen was one of the last major systems to fall before the Kai concentrated on humanity’s core inner worlds.
“If it’s any consolation, Admiral, the casualty count from Henzen and TS-9 should have been tiny for our side,” she offered. “Then again, Kai casualty counts are likely to be low as well, since there’s no real reason to send multiple fleets or millions of ground troops to an abandoned system.”
“But the point is to keep the Kai from ever going near Henzen for thousands of years, right?” Meyer asked, still pacing but much slower now.
“Yes, Capta
in,” Irina answered. “The point of All-Stop never was about survival. It was always about making sure the Kai abandoned human space once we were gone and spent their efforts rebuilding what we destroyed on our way out.”
“Christ,” Huang muttered. “That’s like setting off a diversion nuke in London just to rob a liquor store in Manchester.”
“I’m sure the Genesis colonists would appreciate the comparison,” Irina said.
“Assuming they ever arrive anywhere,” Sawalha said with a sigh.
“Assuming they wake up once they arrive,” Meyer said, then sat down hard in his chair.
TEN
“Admiral, we have Genesis-5’s transponder codes,” Lt. Ken said over the comm.
“Roger that,” Huang replied. “Time to sync?”
“Sixteen hours, Sir,” she answered. “Board is clear up to thirty light-hours. ALVIN’s predictions show clear up to seventy-two light-hours unless there’s an FTL signature on lag.”
“Keep me posted, Lieutenant,” Huang said.
Irina listened to the command channel, but her mind was elsewhere. She felt apprehensive, and was sure she could detect the same foreboding worries of the other officers on the bridge. The Kai didn’t play by any rules but their own, and they tended to not play “fair” even when the rules were rewritten on the fly by daring human commanders.
Irina had replayed the battle logs at least a dozen times in the last twenty-four hours. The Rathalans showing up in force when they did had been a blessing. Silver Fleet jumped away after losing only a single ship to a lucky shot.
That was Meyer’s estimation of the tragedy, though Irina knew the man carried the losses deep inside. He’d finally had his hour of fantasy with the Special Forces commander, yet chose to spend only a quarter of it in a sweaty, passionate embrace with Irina. The rest of the time was spent discussing subjects that no longer had any meaning.
Rickus Meyer told her of his childhood on Earth in South Africa, how he’d been drafted at age eighteen, then had his cherry popped on his very first jump into a live combat arena. Irina held him tight while he reached back into memories shelved long ago. Irina knew exactly what he’d done, having forcefully imprisoned painful memories of her own after they became an unending progression as the war dragged on. Meyer—like every competent Navy officer or Marine commander before him—learned early to lock up his emotions to keep from becoming a liability to himself, and especially his crew.
Irina told him something she’d never spoken of other than to an official Coalition inquiry. Meyer had heard quietly exchanged rumors about the disaster at Tennabrae, and had added it to his list of reasons why he hated UCSF and their meddling. After the successful rescue of a Senator’s nieces and stepson, Irina’s unit was deployed to Tennabrae to rescue another Senator’s extended family. The mission parameters were far more bleak at Tennabrae, with the Kai actively engaged on the ground against Coalition Marines, unlike the previous rescue, where the Kai had yet to deploy their ground forces thanks to the vicious space battles raging throughout the system.
Commander Drazek was one of two Special Forces operatives to survive out of the two hundred who landed on Iverson, the planet’s largest continent. Irina shuddered as she told Meyer her version of the disaster, which began two klicks above the ground when her dropship was blown in half by a Kai plasma-tipped guided missile. She felt Meyer’s fingers absently trace the scar on her right thigh that was a constant reminder of why Marines and spooks felt naked without their CR combat chassis. Her voice faltered only once when she got to the part about finding the Senator’s family—and an entire four block area—decimated by an orbital bombardment of the capital city.
Irina and Meyer spent the last ten minutes of their time in a silent embrace before going their separate ways. Both seemed refreshed on more than just a physical level, but the instant each put on their tactical helmets and resumed their roles as a Naval Warfare officer and a Special Forces operative, the stress returned, as if it had simply been paused during their physical and emotional release. Irina wished the mission was already over, regardless of the eventual outcome. Sixteen hours would soon feel like sixteen months if the Kai found them.
***
“Captain, we have multiple FTL contacts!” Lt. Mikkelsen said excitedly four hours later.
Irina woke in the command chair and wiped a sliver of drool from the side of her mouth. She was alert within seconds, her heart racing in time with the ship-wide klaxon that alerted Raiden’s crew to prep for battle.
“What’s it look like, Lieutenant?” Meyer asked, his voice as calm as ever.
“Sir, we’ve got sixteen contacts so far, but the number is rising every few seconds as ALVIN verifies each new signature.”
“Admiral,” Meyer said on the command channel.
“On my way,” Huang said in her earbud. “How long to sync?”
“Ten hours, Sir,” Meyer answered.
“Drazek, are you on the link?” Huang asked.
“Yes, Admiral,” she replied.
“Okay, good. How far out are these new contacts?”
“Twelve light-hours,” Meyer answered.
They waited for Huang to say something more, but he remained silent. Fifteen seconds later, the bridge airlock opened to admit the admiral. He quickly took his seat and donned the tactical helmet.
“Admiral on the bridge,” Lt. Ken announced almost absently as she sifted through the data ALVIN fed her console.
“Sir, we have forty-two, repeat, four-two contacts and rising,” Lt. Aweke said.
Irina felt bad for Alpha Watch, who had just ended a twelve-hour shift less than fifteen minutes earlier. None of the members of Alpha Watch were likely to get any sleep. Irina knew they would be tied into the bridge for the entire fight. It was useless to attempt sleep while adrenaline was continuously dumped into their bloodstream—not to mention sleep during combat maneuvers was something only fighter and bomber pilots were capable of.
“Seventy-six contacts, repeat, seven-six contacts,” Aweke said. “Ninety-six contacts, repeat, nine-six contacts,” he announced two minutes later. “Numbers are stable for thirty seconds. ALVIN is sure ninety-six is the final count. Fusion signatures already incoming. They’re boosting for pursuit, Sirs.”
“Perfect,” Huang muttered. “Weapon range estimate?”
“Unknown, Sir,” Aweke answered. “ALVIN needs at least ten minutes to get a good read.”
“Of course,” Huang replied, forgetting Silver Fleet no longer had a working Wire to pull updates in real time. “Let us know when you have an ETA.”
“Roger that, Sir.”
“Drazek,” Huang said on the private command channel.
“Here, Admiral.”
“What’s your gut telling you?”
“That this isn’t going to be like the last two times they popped into the system,” she answered.
“How so?” Meyer asked.
“I don’t know, Captain,” she replied. “I’m just a mudfoot. I’m not an expert on the Kai’s naval abilities, but I just have a gut feeling they’re going to show us they’ve learned from the last two encounters.”
“Do you think they know what we’re really doing?” Huang asked. He still didn’t trust the Special Forces commander as a spook, but he’d learned to trust her ability to assess a situation.
“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “But they know we’re up to something, and based on the fact we’ve accrued seventeen years since first contact in Veridian space, we’re likely the last enemies left for them to put down. That, combined with our previous escapes and the Rathalans wiping their fleet out at our last stop, means whatever they’re planning isn’t going to be good for us.”
“Excellent,” Huang said, surprising her. He opened a channel to Lt. Ken. “Lieutenant, I want you to override Genesis-5’s NavComp and initiate launch sequence.”
“Sir?” Ken asked, her voice steady but tense.
“Commander Drazek thinks the Kai
are going to zig instead of zag. Just in case she’s right, I’d feel much better if Genesis-5 was already headed to the pocket with a head start.”
“Roger that, Sir.” She pinged the command channel ten seconds later. “Launch sequence initiated. Nine hours until Genesis-5 receives the command.”
“Admiral?” Irina asked hesitantly. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I don’t like you much,” he answered, but she detected a lightness in his voice that hadn’t been present other than during their time in the tube on Gold Deck. “Mostly because you’re never wrong. But I’ve got the same bad feeling you do. Whatever happens, I want Genesis-5 already on her way.”
***
“Mirror!” Aweke shouted two hours later. “Mirror at 031-301 and 003-119.” He paused for a few seconds, his eyes scanning then rescanning the data from ALVIN. “Sir, they’ve translated to within one hour of our position.”
“Hard decel burn, execute,” Huang ordered.
Irina’s chair became a prison for seventeen minutes as Silver Fleet flipped and performed a 16g burn. By the time it was over, her eyes felt as if they’d been stomped on repeatedly by a heavy boot.
“Navigation, set course for 006-204, give us 2g for six minutes,” Huang commanded. “Execute.”
Irina watched the predicted trajectories of the two fleets as ALVIN worked overtime to update their tactical displays.
“Mirror!” Aweke said again less than a minute later. “Sir! We have contact at eleven light-seconds!”