Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II

by Jay Allan

  “All ships are to lock in a course to the X50 warp gate, Commander. We’ll head out at 3g, but twenty minutes after departure, everyone will be in the tanks and the fleet will be accelerating at 30g.” He dreaded the idea of dragging everyone back into the hated tanks, but the sooner he got his people out of here the better he would feel. He was doing the best he could, using all his tactical skill to make the wisest decisions. But he still felt it was all in vain. The enemy could catch him if they wanted to…all they had to do was blast away at full thrust, and his people didn’t have a chance of getting away. It was that simple. And the fleet didn’t have a prayer in a straight up fight.

  “All vessels confirm, Admiral. Nav plans locked in.” Cortez turned his head suddenly, putting his hand up to his headset. “Sir, we’ve got incoming communications from Admiral Hurley. The signal’s weak, all broken up.”

  “Put it on speaker, Commander. Have the AI work on clearing up the signal.”

  “…dust…heav…” There was loud static, only a few words coming through audibly. Compton had his ear against his speaker, eyes closed, trying to understand what his fighter commander was saying.”

  “Repeat…large…fleet…” The signal was getting slowly clearer as the AI enhanced it. “Enemy…ships…cloud…” The static lessened slightly, the words becoming louder, less garbled. “Hundreds…repeat…enemy fleet…”

  Compton felt cold in his gut as he listened. He understood her message.

  There were enemy ships hidden in the dust clouds near the X50 gate. Hundreds of them.

  * * *

  “Get that shuttle bolted down, or I’m gonna throw your sorry ass out the airlock myself.” Sam McGraw had been terrorizing his landing bay crew for years, but even they had never seen him like this. He tended to throw around threats they knew he didn’t mean literally, but they looked at him now as if he just might space one of them for giving less than one hundred percent effort.”

  “It’s not catching, Chief,” one of the sweating spacers said, trying to muster enough courage to turn and face his terrible commander as he did. “One of the gears is shot away. We’ve got to get an emergency latch on…”

  “No time,” McGraw bellowed. “Jettison the thing.”

  The spacer stared back, hesitating for just an instant. The decision to toss something like a shuttle out of the bay, was the kind of call the captain usually made. But McGraw made no motion to call the bridge and ask for permission. And the spacer had scraped up enough spine to face the chief when he spoke, but he wasn’t about to tell “Pitbull” McGraw he didn’t have the authority to do what he wanted to do. Especially not now, not in the mood he was in.

  “Yes, sir,” he responded, turning almost immediately and shouting to his crew. “Let’s move this boat to the bay doors and get it out of here.” He walked toward his men, grateful for a reason to flee from McGraw’s immediate presence. He knew the admiral had given the chief his orders, and it was pretty obvious time was of the essence. Midway was stuck where it was until the ships were all locked down. Something as big as an unsecured shuttle could cause a lot of damage when the thrusters kicked in…and it could smash its way right through the hull at acceleration far below the flagships 30g max.

  He could hear behind him…McGraw shouting at another crew. And for all the deadly danger he knew they were all in, he felt a wave of relief that the chief’s focus had turned elsewhere. He felt sorry for the helpless spacers getting blasted, but one thought kept running through his mind. Better them than me…

  Still, he knew it would come back his way, especially if his people didn’t get this shuttle ready to jettison. “Let’s move it…now!” he shouted, not realizing how much he sounded like McGraw.

  * * *

  “Set a course back to the X46 gate, Commander.” Compton was staring at his own screen as he belted out the order, working through his own numbers, doing the job himself that he’d just given to his tactical officer. There was no time…and two sets of hands and eyes were better than one. They would double-check each other’s results simultaneously.

  But it didn’t matter. Compton already knew they couldn’t get to X46 ahead of the approaching fleet, even at the enemy’s current velocity. Now he understood why they had held back their thrust…they knew they had the X50 gate blocked. And at 0.01c, they could decelerate as they moved into battle, prolonging the time in the combat zone. If they’d blasted up to 0.03c, they’d have zipped past Compton’s ships, and it would have taken them hours to slow down…and hours more to accelerate back. Time the human fleet could have used to try to escape. But now Compton knew his people were truly trapped. They would make a run for X46, but he knew they wouldn’t make it. And for the first time in his career he had no ideas, no plan, no tricks, nothing. Even in X18, when everyone else had given up, his mind had found the way out. But not this time.

  That’s because there is no way out…

  “I’ve got the course plotted, Admiral.” Cortez looked up and stared over at the command chair.

  Compton could see in the aide’s eyes, he too realized they were trapped. “Confirm with mine, Commander.” Compton slid his finger over the screen, sending the file to Cortez’ station. But even as he did it, he felt something inside him. Rage? Defiance? Hatred?

  “Belay that order, Commander,” he said suddenly, his instinct taking control of him.

  No, if we’re going to die, we’re damned sure not going to do it running, chased down by the enemy like some quarry in a sick hunt. If we must die, then by God, it will be in arms, fighting these bastards with the last strength we have.

  “All ships, 5g thrust, directly toward the enemy fleet coming from X49.” He paused. “No more running,” he hissed. “Now we fight.” Then, an instant later: “All ships, battlestations.”

  * * *

  “Let’s go, John.” Hurley was watching on her scanner as the enemy ships began to emerge from the dust cloud. “Get us back to Midway. As quickly as possible.”

  She’d despaired over her squadrons’ fate, but most of her people had acted decisively, and pulled away as soon as they detected the enemy ships. Four of them had acted too late, and they’d come within the defensive perimeter of the First Imperium vessels…a mistake that had proven fatal. But the rest had made good their escape and rejoined the wing, forming up on her fighter and following her back toward their base ship.

  But the enemy was on the move now, following behind them, gradually increasing acceleration. Hurley knew they could catch her if they wanted to, long before she got back to Midway.

  Of course, they can also destroy Midway easily enough…and every other ship in the fleet too.

  She felt an urge to turn and fight, but without plasma torpedoes there was no point. Those enemy ships were undamaged…they had no hull ruptures or other weak points her people could aim for. Against intact dark matter-infused hulls, her fighter lasers would be lucky to scratch the paint. Assuming any of them even got close enough to take a shot.

  “I’m going to crank it up to 8g, Admiral. Not that they can’t catch us anyway, but we need everything we can get if we’re going to have any chance.”

  “Do it, John. And pass along the order to the rest of the wing.” The idea of spending what would probably be her last moments of life being crushed at 8g was unappealing. But it was better than the feeling of giving up…and that’s what they would be doing if they didn’t try everything they could to survive.

  She winced as she felt the massive, crushing force slam into her. She’d been distracted, unfocused…not ready for the heavy gee forces. She felt pain in her shoulder, a pulled muscle, probably. But she put it out of her mind. If they survived, she’d get it fixed in five minutes in Midway’s sickbay…and if not, it seemed silly to worry about a sore arm when death itself was stalking you.

  She leaned back, closed her eyes. They were outpacing the enemy, at least now. And even with First Imperium technology, a dust cloud that heavy caused problems with communications and
scanners. Maybe, just maybe, it would take the enemy a while to sort out their formation. It wasn’t much of a chance…but it was a chance. And she’d take whatever she could get right now…

  * * *

  “Kick us up to 6g, Commander. All ships…now.” Compton was watching as a row of enemy vessels moved out in front of their main fleet. It was a vanguard, a thin line…Gremlins, mostly. It didn’t change the ultimate calculus of the battle. But it did give him a target his people could beat. The victory would be short-lived, certainly, as the enemy Leviathans and Colossus’ closed, and blew his surviving ships to plasma. But if they were going to die here, he resolved they would do it with honor…and not fleeing with no hope of escape.

  “All ships moving to 6g, sir.”

  Compton felt the impact just as Cortez was snapping out the report. It was uncomfortable, certainly, but his people were trained to operate in these conditions…and they were experienced. They would give their best, despite gasping for air and struggling even to move their arms.

  “Put me on fleetwide com, Commander.”

  A second later: “You are on, sir.”

  “Attention all officers and crew of the fleet. As you all know, we are almost surrounded by enemy forces…and too far from the X46 warp to have any hope of escape in that direction. I wish I could tell you I have a brilliant plan, a ruse to extricate us from this trap we find ourselves in. But this time, that is not the case. There is no way out, no subterfuge to escape our fate. And I will not lie to all of you at this hour and tell you otherwise. You courage and fortitude over the past fifteen months has earned you better than that.”

  He paused, rasping for breath, forcing the air deep into his lungs before he continued. “Many of you have served with me for years, in battles against the First Imperium…and other fights as well. Others among you have fought at my side for a shorter time, and some have faced me on the opposite sides of desperate battles. But now, none of that matters…it has no meaning, no place in what is about to happen. For now, we are all brothers and sisters, comrades and allies. We will fight together—and we will die together—but we will do it locked arm and arm, at each other’s sides, knowing we are among friends.

  “And though we may die…these infernal machines shall not have an easy victory. My last order, the final request I shall make of each of you is to fight…with all the strength you possess, with the last will you can muster. Fight at my side, as I will fight at yours. If we must die, let us die well…and together. To battle, my brave spacers…and fight a final struggle worthy of us all.”

  He made a slashing motion across his neck, a sign to Cortez to cut the line. Then he turned his head slowly, struggling to hold his neck upright under the heavy pressure. “Weapons control, I want all safeties disengaged. When we enter energy weapons range, I want all power routed to the laser batteries.” He paused. “We won’t be leaving this fight, so there’s no need to save anything. And every megawatt we can pump through those guns could be the one that kills one of those pieces of shit.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” the weapons officer replied. “Forwarding orders to all ships.”

  Compton sat still, listening to the quiet on the flag bridge. Other than the distant hum of Midway’s engines, there was almost total quiet. He knew his people were dealing with things in their own ways. Some, he suspected, were praying…others, perhaps, thinking of families and loved ones they had left behind, back in human space. Fifty years at war had taught him that men and women faced death in their own ways. They could stand together as comrades, lock arm and arm and fight their final battle together. But they all died alone. As he would.

  But Compton allowed himself only a brief passing thought of Elizabeth. Then he shut his mind to emotions, to memories and affections. If this was to be his last fight, he resolved, he would act as the angel of death itself, raining such destruction on the machines of the First Imperium that their electronic minds could not comprehend.

  * * *

  No, it can’t end this way. Not after Almeerhan and his comrades spent half a million years waiting. Not days after he handed us the keys to their vast knowledge and technology. Was it all for this? Only for us to be destroyed almost immediately, by the massed forces of the Regent?

  Cutter felt helpless, more so than he ever had in his life. He’d had a rush of hope when he’d first boarded Midway, and it was bolstered almost immediately when he got word of Admiral West’s surface bombardment. The Marines had already lost over 200 dead in the fighting, but thanks to Erica West’s razor’s edge targeting, the rest made it back to their ships. The fleet was still in deadly danger, certainly, but at least they were all united again, ready to face it together.

  But now he saw the trap the enemy had laid for them. Cutter hadn’t been with the fleet as it was driven back through the Slot, and he hadn’t known the fleet had been attacked, that vast enemy forces had forced it to retreat, pursuing it all the way back to X48. Only now did he see the true hopelessness of the situation.

  His mind raced, trying to think of something he could do, any way to help. But he knew there was nothing. His service to the fleet was research…but there were no scientific solutions that could help in this situation, not in the minutes they probably had left to live.

  Admiral Compton will think of something. We have been in situations that appeared hopeless before, and we have always escaped.

  But he couldn’t convince himself. He knew that was weak minded thinking. Even Terrance Compton had his limits. He’d escaped from a vast fleet in X18, but the enemy had made the mistake of leaving an escape route in that system. And they had learned from that error.

  Cutter sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. I am sorry, Almeerhan. Sorry that your long vigil was in vain…

  * * *

  “All ships, prepare to open fire.” Compton himself was back on the fleetwide com, ready to give the order himself. His ships had come through the light missile fire of the Gremlin screen almost unscathed, a testament to the skill of their gunnery crews. He knew that once this preliminary fight was over, his people would likely all die in the fury of the missile barrages launched by the First Imperium battleline. The Leviathans and Colossus’ would hurl massive numbers of antimatter warheads toward his ships, an attack that would go unanswered. There wasn’t a missile left in his fleet. And as good as his gunners were, their defensive fire would be overwhelmed by the volume of the assault. His ships would be bracketed by multiple close-in detonations and destroyed. All of them. The mathematics of war would finally prevail.

  Compton had run the calculations three times, throwing in every random factor he could think of…but the results were always the same. The fleet would die before it cleared the enemy missiles. Not a ship would get through to fire its lasers. So that meant, this was the last blood his people would draw…and he intended to make it count…to obliterate every enemy vessel in that line.

  He glanced down at the tactical display. The ships from the X50 gate were also closing, and they would come into range at about the same time as the fleets from X49. Compton almost laughed at the excess, the pointless overkill. But he understood too, at least in a perverse sort of way, and he tried to imagine an artificial intelligence trying to analyze why it had lost so many fights facing an enemy it outclassed and outnumbered.

  I hope you chew on that for another half million years, you piece of shit…

  “Admiral, we’re getting readings from the X46 warp gate. Ships transiting.” A short pause…then Cortez looked up from the scope. “It’s another fleet, sir. A massive one…ten Colossus-class superbattleships in the lead.”

  Compton just nodded his head. Perfect symmetry, he thought. So, at least I didn’t make a mistake…running for X46 wouldn’t have done us any good.

  He couldn’t help but be amazed at the resources of the First Imperium, at the endless fleets they seemed to possess. What were they like millennia ago, when their people were still alive…before the ravages of time wore away so
much of their former power?

  He didn’t know…indeed, he realized he couldn’t even imagine. It was a mystery that would stay lost in the darkness of time.

  “Well, that changes nothing. We’ll destroy these Gremlins before that fleet gets in range.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cortez sat quietly for a moment…and then he spun around, seeming to ignore the 6g pushing down on him.

  “Admiral! We’ve got a message incoming…from one of the enemy vessels.”

  Compton was stunned. The First Imperium had never attempted to contact them before.

  “Put it on speaker, Commander. Fleetwide.” His doomed crews deserved to hear this…whatever it was.

  “Attention Admiral Compton, attention Admiral Compton…you must turn away from the enemy fleet, accelerate at full speed toward the X50 warp gate. I repeat, you must break off at once and accelerate away from the enemy forces you are about to engage. Ignore the forces moving in from X50.”

  Compton felt like he’d been hit by a brick, his mind blank, his lungs gasping for breath. The message was clear…and he’d have taken it for a trick, save for one thing. He knew that voice…he knew it as well as his own.

  It was Max Harmon’s.

  Chapter Thirty

  Research Notes of Hieronymus Cutter

  I am in my lab, working to access the data stored in the device I brought back from the planet. Yet I find myself distracted, thoughts of Almeerhan drifting through my mind. Not the disembodied consciousness I spoke with, but the…man…if that is the right word. What were the people of the First Imperium truly like? Certainly, they had achieved greatness…but they also allowed the Regent to control them, to strip away their freedom. They fell to a machine, but I cannot help but wonder how different that was from Earth’s fate, where the people lost their liberty to the corrupt and perpetually warring Superpowers.