Retreat And Adapt (A Galaxy Unknown)

by DePrima, Thomas

  "Have we made any progress on your plan?" Admiral Poole asked.

  "Since this meeting isn't as private as it would have to be to discuss details, all I can say is that things are progressing. Certain components are scheduled to leave production facilities in Region One any day now. In two months' time, we should be able to begin assembly of test components. Once the test components are constructed, we'll be ready to test the delivery system. I can't say how long that phase will take, but given the task, it could be considerable."

  "I'm sure we all appreciate the precision required for that phase," Admiral Holt said. "But if your plan works as outlined, we'll have a weapon that will forever shift the balance of power back to Space Command."

  "I'm not ready to make that strong a pronouncement," Jenetta said. "I thought we would be the most powerful force in this part of space for decades to come when we began to use Dakinium sheathing on our ships, but even Dakinium didn't stop this new enemy from destroying our two scout-destroyers with ease. But perhaps the new weapon will give us an edge again— for a while."

  * * *

  Nicole Ravenau examined her face in the mirror and then smiled. After a year of almost constant pain, her gender transformation was almost complete. She was a man again. She— He hadn't enjoyed sex since surrendering his sex in exchange for youth and now yearned for female companionship, but he would be patient. His goal was within sight and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that just to enjoy a few minutes of sexual pleasure. There would be plenty of time for that later, after he was ensconced back in the Raider family. With his handsome new face, women would be fawning over him now. His old face, the one before he became Nicole, hadn't been ugly. In fact, he'd always thought of it as ruggedly attractive. But this new face, one crafted by the top scientists in genetic research, would turn the heads of most females, especially the attractive ones for whom a handsome face and muscular body was the ticket to their boudoir. And best of all, he would enjoy that access for thousands of years. By then, he believed, he would have found the secret to eternal life. The accomplishments of his scientists to date was all the proof he needed that anything was possible through the manipulation of the human genome.

  It was a shame that he'd felt it necessary to murder all his people and destroy the lab, but he'd believed it was the only way to escape the wrath of Strauss for the attack on Christa Carver. Of course, a full copy of all research data since the beginning of the projects was safely hidden away in several of his secret locations.

  The genetic makeup of his new body eliminated the need to ever shave his face again, so after bathing and getting dressed, he prepared for a night in the casino. He slipped his new ID into the inside pocket of his sports coat and pulled the door to the corridor closed behind him. It would be the first appearance of Gregory Foster since he had come aboard the passenger liner at Pelomious.

  * * *

  "A transport carrying the requested materials left for Quesann today, Richard," Admiral Ahmed said in response to Admiral Moore's query in a regular session of the AB.

  "Was the entire order filled, Raihana?" Admiral Moore asked.

  "Everything Admiral Carver requested, plus the additional quantities we felt were justified. All devices are fully assembled and ready to be deployed once the safeties are removed."

  "The six new scout-destroyers that recently completed their space trials were held at the Mars shipyard until the transport was ready to depart," Admiral Platt said. "They'll function as escorts for the transport, even though it's not subject to attack since it will be traveling at Light-9790."

  "It's good to have the extra protection available in case the transport suffers a drive problem," Admiral Bradlee said. "The load is too important to be left unguarded."

  "In a pinch, part of the load could even be offloaded to one of the small ships and sent on ahead so Quesann can begin preparing for their testing phase," Admiral Plimley said.

  "Yes," Admiral Hillaire said, "I'm sure that holding the scout-destroyers for an extra two weeks didn't present a problem for Admiral Carver's Second Fleet."

  "Now the difficult part for us begins," Admiral Moore said. "We must wait to see if the weapon will meet expectations. I'm beginning to feel as anxious as when we began to mount our defense against the THUG pact."

  * * *

  "We've been on long cruises before," Nelligen said, "But at least we've always had a destination and some idea of when we'd get there. Following a freighter without knowing where we're heading is getting on my nerves."

  "It's getting to all of us," Byers said. "Vyx, I don't know how you stay so calm about this."

  "I'm treating it like a vacation. The DeTect system will alert us if the freighter changes course or speed, so let's just sit back and enjoy the ride."

  "How can we enjoy the ride when we know we're going to run out of beer in three more months?" Nelligen said. "We should have stocked more."

  "Any chance of slipping away and restocking the supplies?" Byers asked. "The freighter hasn't changed course since we left Uthlarigasset, and you said we have much greater speed. We could angle off four billion kilometers to avoid their DeTect, zip around them, stop at an inhabited world ahead, and pick up their trail again after getting supplies."

  "We have enough food to last five years, so we're in no danger of starving before we get back. You'll just have to stretch your beer supply out as long as possible because there are no decently sized colonies on this course between here and the border with open space."

  "If there are no decently sized colonies ahead, then where the heck is that freighter going?"

  "The guy in the tavern said 'to the black.' I guess he meant outside of GA space."

  "But we're at least two years from the GA Border."

  "Yes, it's going to be a long voyage."

  "I'm suddenly getting a very bad feeling about this," Byers said.

  "The only difference between space in the GA and unclaimed space beyond our border is an imaginary line."

  "Yeah, but we received that alert about the Denubbewa," Nelligen said. "What if that freighter is headed for a rendezvous with them and one of their mother ships? The Uthlaro might be supplying them with food and stuff in exchange for them attacking our ships."

  "Then we turn around and hightail it back to GA space as fast as we can. And we hope that none of them can travel faster than Light-487."

  "If we have two more years before we get to our destination, that means two more years for the return voyage as well— assuming there is a return voyage."

  "Yes, I've been thinking about that. Once we ascertain what's going on, we can call for a Light-9790 vessel to pick us up."

  "That'll save us the return trip," Byers said, "but what about the outgoing trip? If there are no more decently sized colonies ahead, why don't we call for a Light-9790 ship now and zip ahead until we figure out where that freighter is headed? We could save years of travel time."

  "Yes, I admit I've considered that. I guess I've been enjoying the vacation a bit."

  "We're running out of beer," Nelligen said, "so it's time to call for that ship now. Even with the ride, we'll be lucky to get back before we run out."

  Vyx smiled and expelled a phony sigh. "Okay, I'll call for a ship large enough to carry us. I suppose it'll have to be a battleship or ship transporter. The old Scorpion could squeeze into the maintenance bay of a destroyer, but this ship wouldn't even get halfway inside."

  * * *

  "I've just received notification from the Admiralty Board," Jenetta said to the R2HQ Board during their morning session, "that the special materials we requested from them have been shipped. Deducting the eighteen days it took for the communication to reach Quesann from the roughly fifty-two days' travel time means that the transport should arrive here in thirty-four days."

  "Has the entire request been filled?" Admiral Holt asked.

  "And then some. The AB increased the quantities I ordered by a considerable measure. I kept the order
small because I knew we'd be interrupting production of other needed materials. I didn't want there to be any substantial delays owed to previous scheduling. However, the AB gave it top priority at every production facility, so the time required to produce the additional materials and assemblies was negligible once the facilities were geared up for manufacture of the items. We'll be able to outfit ten ships for the delivery of the weapon and have a decent stockpile for rearming."

  "How long are we talking about for ship preparation?" Admiral Poole asked.

  "One ship has already been prepared to accept the special devices. Once fully outfitted, we'll begin testing to see if the idea is practicable. If it is, we'll begin outfitting nine more."

  "Why don't we begin outfitting the additional nine now?" Admiral Buckner asked."

  "The practicality of my idea has been questioned at the highest levels of Weapons Research and Development at SHQ. Perhaps they're right and I'm wrong. Perhaps it will never work. But so far no one in WRD at SHQ has come up with an idea that doesn't involve suicide runs against those enemy ships. I've wracked my brain and been unable to come up with a better solution than the one I've put into development. If my idea is impractical, we can't have nine ships out of action while they're prepared for a useless system and then repaired when acceptable results cannot be achieved. And if that's the case, I don't know where we go from here."

  * * *

  Come in, Barbara," Jenetta said to Captain DeWitt when she arrived at Jenetta's office.

  "Good morning, Admiral."

  "Help yourself to a beverage and then join me at my desk."

  A minute later, Captain DeWitt sat in one of the comfortable oh-gee chairs across the desk from Jenetta. She looked exhausted and her uniform was a bit rumpled. Jenetta had never seen her when her appearance was less than impeccable.

  "You look terrible, Barbara. When was the last time you slept?"

  "Not since the ordnance arrived from Region One. I guess it's been about three days. I'm sorry about my appearance, Admiral, but your message said to come immediately."

  Jenetta nodded. "After we're done here, I want you to return to your quarters and get some rest. That goes for your people as well. You can't do your best work if you're too tired to think clearly. We can't afford even the smallest of errors with the installation."

  "Aye, Admiral."

  "What's the current situation?"

  "Our twelve most senior engineers have installed the first three bomb cradles in the ship. While we were waiting for the Dakinium cradles to arrive, we practiced repeatedly with the mockup tritanium units our engineers constructed, so the installation work with the Dakinium units went smoothly. We've tested the connections with the weapons computer and everything went perfectly. Each of the twelve senior engineers will now head up an installation team as we install the other ninety-seven cradles in the ship. After we all get some rest, that is."

  "Estimated time before we can begin test runs?"

  "If everything continues to go well, we could be ready in three weeks. But even with the best of plans, something usually goes askew. So to be safe, I'd allow five weeks."

  "Okay. Five weeks is the plan then. The test area has been placed off-limits to all vessels, and the cargo containers are ready to be delivered there. Have the dummy bombs been prepared?"

  "Aye, Admiral. The mass of each dummy load is identical to the real ordnance down to the microgram. As the dummy passes out of the ship, and beyond the TW envelope, a simple mechanical switch activates a homing signal so we can track our bombing accuracy and recover the dummy."

  "Has anyone established a pool for how close the first release will be?" Jenetta asked with a smile.

  "I'm sure there is, Admiral," DeWitt said, returning the smile, "but I haven't been asked to participate. We've crunched numbers for weeks trying to establish a formula for the bomb release timing, but until we drop the first dummy, we can't begin to refine the process. I'm just hoping we're within a billion kilometers for the first drop."

  "I know how hard you've worked on this project, Barbara, and I appreciate all your efforts. I have every confidence in you and your team. If anybody can do this, it's you. Okay, go get some rest, and tell your people to get some. I'm pleased with the progress you've made so far and I want everyone rested and healthy. Dismissed."

  After Captain DeWitt had gone, Jenetta leaned back in her chair to think about the upcoming targeting phase. Jenetta knew that DeWitt wouldn't pad an estimate and the project was too important to press, possibly forcing someone to take shortcuts. The Denubbewa mother ship was still at the previously reported location according to the latest reports from the ships assigned to watch it. It was probably waiting for the requested reinforcements before it began a push through Region Two space.

  * * *

  "Sir," the tac officer aboard the Mekong said with some urgency, "the target is gone."

  Lt. Kyle Gleason, the second officer and watch commander sat up a bit straighter. "Gone? No sign on the DeTect?"

  "Negative, sir. The board is clear."

  Gleason looked up at the chronometer. It was 0315. He bit his lower lip lightly, then said, "Com, notify the Captain that the Denubbewa mother ship has moved and is not in DeTect range. No—, never mind. I'd better do it."

  Captain Cody Morrow scowled at the chronometer after wiping the sleep from his eyes. He reached over, tapped the com on the nightstand, and said, "Captain."

  "Uh, sorry to wake you at this hour, Captain. I needed to inform you that the target has moved. It's not within DeTect range."

  Morrow cursed under his breath, then said, "The Rio Grande certainly would have notified us if the mother ship wasn't there four hours ago. Notify them of this situation, then initiate a search using the pattern we've prepared for this possibility. If that ship is limited to single-envelope travel, as we believe, it can't have gone more than three-point-five trillion kilometers in four hours, and more likely only about two trillion kilometers if it didn't leave immediately after the Rio Grande made its last flyby."

  "Aye, sir."

  "I'll be on the bridge in fifteen minutes, but don't wait on my arrival to begin the search."

  "Aye, sir."

  Morrow pushed the com screen down and yawned. The months of performing flybys to verify the mother ship hadn't moved had become routine and even a bit boring, but he preferred that to searching. The tac officer would certainly know that the Mekong hadn't passed the mother ship on their way to perform their flyby, so that was one direction they didn't have to search. That left just forty-six million, six hundred fifty-five thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine other vectors the mother ship could have taken when leaving the area. Well, at least the Mekong only had to search half of those. The Rio Grande would handle the other half.

  Morrow got out of bed, stretched, and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a brisk shower would wake him up. His only real task right now was to notify R2HQ that the mother ship was missing and that they were initiating a search, but he wanted to look awake and alert when he prepared that message.

  * * *

  "Sorry to wake you, Captain," Lt. Janet Spears said when Commander Marc Hodenfield raised the screen on his com unit. "We've just received a message from the Mekong. The target is no longer at the location we've been monitoring. They're initiating Search Pattern Zulu-Six and taking the Alpha role. They request that we commence the search in the Beta role."

  "Understood, Lieutenant. Confirm to them that the Rio Grande is immediately commencing the search in the Beta role."

  "Aye, sir. I'll notify the Mekong and initiate the search pattern."

  "Keep me advised if anything changes."

  "Aye, sir. Out."

  "Out."

  * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  ~ June 26th, 2287 ~

  Captain Barbara DeWitt sat back in her chair in the Weapons Control computer room aboard the Tigris and said through her com link, "Okay, that's the entire checklist. Everything seems go.
Everyone agree?"

  From half a dozen locations in the ship, voices acknowledged their agreement that everything was go.

  "Affirmative. All stations standby, I'm alerting the bridge that we're go."

  * * *

  Gregory Foster, a.k.a. Nicole Ravenau, a.k.a. Mikel Arneu, stepped through the shuttle hatchway and walked to his seat for the short flight down to the surface. He had been eagerly anticipating this day since leaving more than a year ago. The stage makeup he'd applied to his face as he prepared to disembark altered his appearance so dramatically that even the people with whom he'd been playing cards every night for the past several weeks wouldn't recognize him.

  The customs agent at the spaceport slipped the ID into the computer slot and looked at the image that appeared on the monitor. It correctly matched Foster's current appearance, so he handed back the ID and waved Foster through.

  Smiling pleasantly, Foster picked up his briefcase and continued on towards the building exit. His luggage would be delivered to his hotel suite in a few hours. As he stepped outside, he breathed deeply and thought the air decidedly more polluted here than the air on Pelomious, but it would be difficult to find a planet where that wasn't the case. Anywhere there are people, there will be at least a modicum of pollution despite the best efforts to purify the air.

  Foster checked into his hotel and removed the stage makeup, then relaxed in a tub of warm water for an hour. He'd always been a shower person as a male, but as Nicole he'd developed a fondness for baths and had no intention of ending that just because he had switched genders again. Since he wasn't going out tonight, he'd ordered a bottle of Sebastian Colony semi-dry Maulon wine and placed it into the wine chiller basket. Once it achieved the recommended consumption temperature, he'd pulled the cork and poured his first glass.

  As Foster swirled the first sip around in his mouth, allowing his taste buds to appraise the vintage, he thought about the formulas he had turned over to the Director at the Raider Central Labs a year ago. The package contained mounds of research detailing decades of work and results. No one would ever know from the submitted data that one of the proven formulas actually represented a failed process where the adverse effects didn't manifest until after a full year had passed, and by then it would be too late to stop the mutation effects on internal organs that eventually took the subject down a very painful path to sure death.