by Jay Allan
He looked back up at the main display, watching the remnants of West’s and Duke’s task forces make their way back to the fleet. He knew West’s people were buttoned up, their vessels now decelerating at 30g, preparing to link up with the main fleet. He didn’t doubt for a second they would be pursued by the enemy, but for whatever reason, the First Imperium forces had held back, given Erica West a chance to extract the remaining ships from X56…and allowed Compton to hold back a few hours, to give her people a chance to link up with the fleet.
Then all his people would be together again—except, of course, the expedition in X48…and Sophie. And, of course, the dead, those left behind in the frigid wastes of X56 as in so many other places.
* * *
“I want those scanners up immediately, Lieutenant.” Captain Schwerin stared down from his chair, looking over his small bridge crew. “We need to know if there’s anything in this system. Now.” He knew riding his officers wasn’t really fair. The disruption a warp jump caused to a ship’s systems was well known, and it was highly random in its effects too. The same ship could make similar jumps, and recover its systems in a few seconds one time, and go through several minutes of extreme disruption the next. And there was exactly nothing even the best crew could do to alter that.
Except stay sharp. A razor sharp team could restore normal operations a bit quicker once the natural effect had passed. It wasn’t much, maybe ten seconds, perhaps fifteen. But when you were blasting into the teeth of an enemy fleet, even an instant could be the difference between life and death.
“Yes, sir.” The officer sounded sharp. “I think it’s coming back up now…”
Schwerin knew he was lucky to have Lieutenant Wagner. If the fleet hadn’t been stranded a year earlier, Schwerin had no doubt Wagner would have his own command by now. He’d even recommended his tactical officer to Admiral Compton for a promotion, one Compton agreed to approve…as soon as he had a command available to assign him. But ships had been dying as quickly as officers and crews, and Schwerin understood the constraints of diplomacy that forced the admiral’s hands.
“I want engineering ready to blast the engines and get us back to the warp gate on my order.” Right now, Tyr was still moving deeper into the system. She’d made the transit at about 40kps, practically a crawl in space travel…but she’d have to fire her thrusters to counteract that velocity, and then accelerate back toward the warp gate. And her engines were as inoperable as her scanning suite.
“Yes, Captain.” Then, an instant later: “Sir, scanners are rebooting. We’re starting to get data coming in. Looks like seven planets…fairly normal…” Wagner spun around, his gaze locking on Schwerin’s. “Enemy ships, Captain. Dozens of contacts…no, over a hundred.” He looked back at his instruments and then turned back, his face white as a sheet. “Over two hundred ships detected, sir…including at least ten Colossuses.”
Schwerin hadn’t know what to expect in X53, but this hadn’t been it. His tactical officer was describing a full scale battlefleet, one of enormous scale, more powerful than any they had faced save in X2. One that could destroy the entire fleet with ease. He hesitated, just for a few seconds, as he fought off the wave of numb shock. Then he jumped into activity.
“Engine room, I want 8g thrust…and I want it five minutes ago! Vector directly back toward the warp gate!”
“Working on it, sir,” came the harried response. The scanners had apparently come back online before the engines.
“Work harder,” Schwerin snapped. “We have to report back to Admiral Compton. Now!”
“Captain, the enemy fleet appears to be stationary, in a range from 5.5 to 7 million kilometers from the X54 gate.”
Schwerin felt a small rush of relief amid the wave of hopelessness. At least we’ll have time to get out of here…but what can we do with that out there after us? And why are they just sitting there?
It didn’t make sense. “Engine room, I need that thrust!”
“Coming, sir. Just a few more seconds…”
Schwerin snapped his head back toward Wagner’s station. “Any signs of enemy acceleration yet?”
“Negative, sir. They’re still just sitting there.”
Schwerin shook his head. He didn’t understand. Tyr had been disrupted by the warp transit…she couldn’t do anything but coast forward until her engines came back online. But the First Imperium ships had just been sitting there. They could have begun accelerating the instant they detected Tyr coming through. Why weren’t they?
“Captain, initiating 8g thrust in five seconds.”
Schwerin nodded as he snapped back an acknowledgement. “Lieutenant Wagner, I want full scanning operations…right up until the second we jump.”
“Yes, sir.”
Schwerin took a deep breath, his timing perfect. An instant later, eight times his body weight slammed into him, pushing him back hard into his chair, and forcing most of the air from his straining lungs. The acceleration was pure misery, but he was ready to endure whatever was necessary to get Tyr back into X54. Admiral Compton had to know about this…
* * *
Compton stared ahead, his eyes nearly glazed over. He was deep in thought, trying to keep the hopelessness he felt from his crews. They had to think he believed they had a chance. If they lost that, he didn’t even want to think about the morale collapse that would sweep through the fleet.
He hadn’t known what to expect from Tyr’s scouting mission, but a First Imperium battlefleet of the magnitude Schwerin had reported was worse even than his own pessimistic estimates. The sheer tonnage of warships in that system would obliterate the fleet a dozen times over…and that didn’t even consider the forces in X57 and X58. It had become profoundly evident to Compton that the First Imperium had known were his people were for some time. And that meant they probably knew about the expedition too.
For all you know, they wiped X48 clear already.
His mind drifted to scenes of his landing parties, the scientists and other professionals running before the guns of the First Imperium warbots, while Colonel Preston and his Marines made their last stand. Then the quiet, the eerie silence of death. And Max.
Harmon hadn’t returned yet, and now Compton wondered if he ever would. Perhaps he was dead on X48, along with all the others. Including Sophie.
“The navigation plan is ready, Admiral,” Cortez said grimly.
“Very well,” he answered. He’d given the orders the instant he’d heard Schwerin’s report, but it took time to plan a drastic course change for over a hundred ships. “Send the plan to all ships. Admiral West’s forces too.” He could no longer wait for West’s ships to link up…he had to get the fleet moving. But if West could follow the plan he was sending, her ships would come through right on the heels of the main force. He’d have his fleet together again, at least. For whatever good that was likely to do.
Compton sighed. It wasn’t like he had much choice. The only place they could go was back to X51. Every other possible route had been cut off, blocked by advancing enemy forces. But X51 was a transit system, with only two warp gates…and that meant the fleet would have no choice but to go back the way it came. Straight to X49, one transit from X48. From leading the enemy back to the expedition…if they hadn’t already found and destroyed it.
“All vessels have acknowledged, Admiral. Except Admiral West’s. They’re still two light minutes out.”
“Very well.” Compton wasn’t worried about West, at least not about her understanding and executing his orders. She was just about the most competent officer in the whole fleet. Maybe the most. No, the problem was what to do next.
“And Commander…I want all ships to perform a complete round of weapons diagnostics. And arrange to distribute the new missiles. Apportion them evenly to all battleships.” Compton knew his people weren’t going to be able to keep running. Indeed, soon they would have to turn and make a stand…and when the time came to fight he wanted them to be ready. Whether they had any chanc
e or not.
Chapter Seventeen
Excerpt from the Screed of Almeerhan (translated)
What ravages hath time wrought, yet still I remain here, no longer what I once was in my youth and even in that distant age so long ago, still born in the twilight of my race? Nor yet what I shall one day become, be that a memory, a fading image of what was…or a new beginning, a salvation drawn from the scattered dust and again cast into the winds of the galaxy?
Am I the last of my race…in all the uncounted cycles of the home sun, of the vast multitudes that came before me…thousands of generations of ancestors, of lives lived, pain suffered, triumph unmatched, and defeat profound?
Or am I nothing at all…naught save the echo of a sound once great to shake the very foundations of the universe, but which has now faded, almost to non-existence?
X48 System – Planet II
Under the Ruins of “New York City”
The Fleet: 125 ships, 29304 crew
The corridor went on for at least five hundred meters. Every twenty or so, a new projection appeared on the ground in front of the party, leading them forward. The voice hadn’t spoken again, but Cutter kept moving forward, giving it no reason to repeat its orders. He felt like he was going to explode, that his desire to ask questions, speak out to the mysterious voice was going to overcome him any second. But he held his control. Something told him to keep his mouth shut, that the voice was not hostile. He had no reason to believe it, but he did anyway…and he waved for Bruce and the Marines to follow.
He kept walking, his impatience beginning to get the better of him, quickening his pace. Then he stopped abruptly. The path just ended. He turned and looked back at Bruce. The Marine had popped his helmet, and he stared back, his look just as confused as Cutter’s. But then his eyes widened and he pointed at the wall.
Cutter heard a sound just as Bruce gestured. He turned back and saw that a section of the wall had slid open. “Enter,” the strange voice said. Then, after a few seconds of inactivity. “Quickly.”
Cutter swallowed hard. Every fiber of his body coursed with fear as he looked into the dark opening. Everything he’d encountered on First Imperium worlds had been deadly, dangerous. But this felt somehow…different. They’d been trapped, the enemy had been about to overwhelm them. There was no reason for elaborate trickery. But then what could this be?
It took everything Cutter had, every scrap of courage he could muster…but he stepped forward. Then again, another step…and a third one, into the opening.
He felt a gust of air, clean, refreshing…a little cooler than the outside. It was invigorating, like the air on Earth, at least in one of the few remaining areas of man’s home world that remained clean and unpolluted. He wished he had an analyzer…he wanted to know how close a match the composition was. Because he was sure it was damned close.
He stepped the rest of the way in. The rough stone floors gave way, replaced by some kind of gray metal. His heels snapped lightly…and a few seconds later, the boots of Bruce’s armor clacked harder, louder. Cutter turned and looked back and down. Even where ten tons of Marine armor had come down on the metal there were no scuffs, no scratches. Just the smooth surface that had been there when they entered.
He stopped and looked around. The corridor was wide, about eight meters, but it seemed to lead only ahead. Cutter stared off into the distance, and a second later, another arrow was projected on the floor. It glistened slightly off the semi-polished floor. Cutter looked around, trying to get an idea where it came from, but it seemed to appear from nowhere.
“Please continue,” the voice broadcast again, without further explanation.
He moved forward, waving for Bruce and his Marines to follow. They took another dozen steps, and as soon as the last of them entered, the hatch sealed shut. There were no hinges, no apparent lines at all. It was just smooth, as if no entryway had ever existed.
“Well, looks like we’re committed,” Bruce said, his voice a bit deadpan. Marines or no, Cutter figured everybody in the room was scared shitless. Even Duff McCloud.
“I guess so,” Cutter said, looking around as he walked slowly forward. “What do you think all this is? If they wanted us dead, I’m thinking we’d be dead by now.”
“Maybe they want to question us. Or dissect us.”
Cutter laughed, in spite of his fear. “You can always count on a Marine to think of the bright side of things.”
“No harm will be done to you.” The voice remained non-descript, but the reassurance also confirmed to Cutter that their mysterious hosts understood everything they were saying.
“Who are you?” Cutter said, looking ahead as he continued to walk.
There was no answer, only another arrow up ahead. “Well, I guess we’ve got no choice but to keep going.” He turned and glanced back at Bruce. The Marine just nodded, a nervous expression on his face. Then he reached behind his back, waving his hand, gesturing for his people to spread out.
Cutter took another few steps forward then he stopped short. He could see something approaching down the corridor. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could feel the movement behind him, Bruce and his people snapping into readiness, their assault rifles leveled down the hall.
“Careful, Kyle,” Cutter said softly. “We don’t want to start a fight here…not if we can avoid it.” Because we’ve got no chance to survive one…
“No,” Bruce said, his voice suspicious, but measured too. “We won’t shoot first…”
Cutter could see the object approaching, and he felt his tension rising. It looked a lot like a First Imperium bot of some kind. But it was alone…and it wasn’t making any hostile moves that he could see. His hand gripped his assault rifle, his fingers slick with sweat, sliding around on the barrel.
It was definitely a robot, and it continued to move forward. Cutter’s eyes wandered over it, his mind trying to decide what it was. Now that it was closer, it didn’t look like a combat bot, not really. But he didn’t doubt it was armed. It was a little over a meter tall, far smaller than most of the enemy battle units.
It glided down the corridor, propelled by some kind of small hover-drive or something similar. Most First Imperium warbots were bipeds or quadrupeds, but this one was different, unlike any enemy unit Cutter had ever seen. It moved up, getting closer and closer. Then it stopped, about two meters from Cutter.
“Welcome,” it said in flawless Alliance English. “We have awaited your arrival for a very long time.”
Cutter turned back toward Bruce with an astonished look on his face. He tried to say something, but no words came. Then he looked back, and saw a blinding flash. And everything went dark.
* * *
“Ronnie…” Ana Zhukov walked down the corridor, stepping over the debris of battle and shouting Cutter’s name. The combat up here had been even more intense than back in the camp…and they’d found several dead Marines scattered around the debris of the First Imperium bots. The fighting had been fierce—and from the proportions of the losses, she had a pretty good ideas the Marines had held their own, at least for a while. But there was no sign of any live Marines…or of Hieronymus Cutter.
“Ana, you’ve got to stay back…we have no idea yet what happened here. We need to scout before it’s safe for your people to…”
“To hell with ‘safe,’ Duncan.” Her voice was sharp, defiant. She had a lot of affection for the Marine, but nothing was going to keep her back now. She’d heeded his advice when certain death had been the alternative, but she wasn’t about to leave her friends and comrades out there just because it was dangerous to go look for them. “I’m not turning back…not until I know where Ronnie is.”
Frasier nodded. “I understand, but it’s my job to protect you…and I’m damned sure going to do that, whatever it takes.”
She turned and looked up at the Frasier. “I understand, Duncan, but there is no such thing as safe anywhere on the fleet.” Her voice softened a bit as she stared at him. “And we can�
�t leave without Ronnie and the others.”
“Alright, Ana,” he answered, not sounding entirely happy about it. “But please be careful…we have no idea what is happening down here.”
She nodded. It was true…she didn’t know what was going on. None of them did. The battle had been going poorly, the enemy far too numerous. Frasier had been trying to organize a breakout, a desperate attempt to get as many of them out as possible. And then suddenly, some kind of mysterious weapon opened fire and ripped into the First Imperium forces. It lasted less than a minute, and when it was done, almost all of the enemy forces had been destroyed. Frasier acted immediately, leading his Marines in a sudden assault to drive back and destroy the few disorganized survivors.
Ana had no idea what had intervened and saved them all. Her first thought had been a relief force from the surface, and she watched carefully in the aftermath, waiting to see. But nothing came. She wasn’t surprised, not really. She had no idea what kind of weapon had struck with such deadly accuracy and severity, but it was certainly nothing Colonel Preston and the Marines in base camp had. No, whatever that was, it was First Imperium technology…or someone else’s.
“Major, over here. I think they went this way.” It was one of Frasier’s Marines, his voice audible through the major’s open helmet.
“On my way,” he snapped back. He looked down at Ana for an instant, as if he was trying to imagine a way he could get her to stay back while he investigated. But he just sighed and said, “Stay behind me, okay? I’m a lot more heavily armored.”
“I will…but let’s go!” Her impatience didn’t suggest she was likely to display the kind of caution Frasier was hoping for, but he just nodded and walked down the corridor, Ana close on his heels.
* * *
Cutter’s head felt like somebody had dug a trench right through the middle of it. He’d have called it a headache, but that simple term hardly seemed to do justice to the throbbing pain. He was slightly disoriented, unsure where he was…but it was coming back to him, slowly.