Toward Center.
If any piece of these systems failed, the ship in question would miss its entry into wormhole space and plunge inexorably into the star itself, killing everyone aboard. Depending on such primitive technology outside the control of AI or organic person, no matter how thoroughly tested, was the only part of the mission that truly frightened her.
“All right,” Scoggins said with a deep breath. “Everyone into the cocoons. Michelle, once we’re in VR space, it’s all yours.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” The android paced around the bridge as the organic crew folded themselves into their crash couches and closed the clamshells. Scoggins felt plugs gently find the sockets at the base of her skull as gels expanded to immobilize her body. Shortly after, her mind transitioned to the virtuality and she got up to pace the bridge, nodding as each of her officers appeared at their stations as if teleported.
It seemed only moments before Commander Conqueror tapped her on the shoulder. “We’re ready, ma’am. You might find it less of a jolt if you sat down and relaxed.
“Of course,” Scoggins replied, taking her seat and grasping the armrests as if in a dentist’s chair. “Will it –”
Then her consciousness faded.
Chapter 30
Admiral Scoggins snapped awake with none of the usual grogginess she associated with sedation. She took this to mean emergence at Center had taken place without incident and, as planned, Michelle had held her unconscious using the virtual reality system until the drugs cleared her body.
Looking around, she determined she was, as expected, in VR space. This she confirmed by the simple expedient of noting the absence of the crash chairs, which were, of course, unnecessary. With all ships TacDrive equipped, she expected to lead her task force into battle within an hour of emergence, pausing only to collect information on what they faced.
Stepping to the holotank, she saw that her C-ships had already blown their explosive struts and detached from Conqueror. All of them now blasted at flank speed away from Center’s supermassive blue-white star, curving toward a position above its north pole. That vantage point would eventually allow them to see the whole plane of the ecliptic, and thus the layout of the solar system, as well as detect the emergence of the D-ships as soon as they arrived.
Scoggins wished they could use TacDrive to escape the star and reach her first rally point, but hitting the thick stellar wind from the enormous sun at lightspeed would be like slamming into concrete. Instead, they plowed ahead, fusion drives lost in the glare. Thick ablative insulation not so different from the latticework resin of the Scourge ships shielded them from the radiation as they gained distance.
As the formation of C-ships slowly emerged from the blinding brilliance of the hot sun and sensors were able to collect data, the holotank began to take on detail.
The first item to emerge was a swath of several Earth-sized planets. Bizarrely, all of them shared an orbit about 3 AU out, triple the distance from Sol to Earth. They floated in an arc, one after another, like a train of beads.
“That arrangement can’t be stable,” Scoggins said, turning to Michelle’s avatar as she pointed.
“Not for more than a few hundred years,” Michelle replied. “Unless, of course, they are managed somehow.”
“Well, planets don’t naturally share orbits, so obviously this system has been engineered.”
“I agree,” said Michelle.
Turning to Fletcher, Scoggins asked, “Do they have atmospheres?”
“Very little, ma’am. Also, not much water, except as ice I can detect beneath the surface.”
“Emissions?”
“All show some level of technological development. I can’t see much detail yet.” He turned back to his board.
“How many total planets in this orbit?”
In response, ghost spheres populated the holotank, obviously extrapolated from the positions of the ones Conqueror could see. In total, there were seventeen.
“Any other planets?” Scoggins inquired.
The holotank scale expanded, showing several gas giants farther out.
“Why aren’t those sharing an orbit, do you think?”
“Probably because they’re a lot harder to move. Without a solid surface, what do you mount an engine on? And, you’d lose their moons. Notice, none of the rocky planets has any.” Michelle gestured.
Scoggins pondered a moment, staring. “Fletcher, I need some targets. And where are the D-ships?”
Fletcher grunted. “Yes, ma’am. Working on it.”
“The D-ships should be appearing any time now,” the AI said. “Shall I speed up the time flow?”
“No. I’ll be patient. Are we at one to one?”
“Yes.”
Scoggins turned away, pacing and wishing she had COB Timmons sitting at the damage control station with his battered coffee maker. He’d stayed at Absen’s side, of course.
Then she chuckled and snapped her fingers. “Michelle, since we’re in VR…do you have data on COB Timmons, enough to create an avatar and his coffee setup?”
“Of course, Admiral.” A moment later, the bridge expanded slightly to provide room for another station and the man seemed to appear, holding a stained mug of lifer-juice.
He raised it to her in salute. “Want a cup?” he asked.
“Sure, COB. Thanks,” she said as she accepted the drink, feeling slightly uncomfortable saying more than that to a simulation. There was no point in acting as if the Timmons avatar was real, as she would only be conversing with the Conqueror AI or some subroutine of her. Even so, sipping the scalding beverage made her feel better.
“I have Detonator,” Fletcher said, jerking his head toward the holotank. “There’s Decimator…”
Scoggins watched as all eight D-ships emerged one by one in random places around the star, to immediately begin their evasive maneuvers. While it didn’t appear that the enemy had anything like SLAMs, EarthFleet wasn’t taking any chances. If she were the Scourge, she’d set up super-graser fortresses around the star to sense and immediately engage anything appearing within range of the killer lightspeed beams.
But she was slowly gaining confidence that never in their wildest nightmares did the Scourge expect an attack on their capital, and certainly not one conducted using higher technology than theirs.
It’s the eternal problem of those who’d won too much for too long, she thought. Like a gambler on a lucky streak, the Scourge have grown complacent and stagnant. They think that what’s succeeded in the past will continue to be sufficient unto the day, while underdogs like us keep striving and innovating.
This time, she intended to teach them the folly of their ways.
Two minutes later, the D-ships turned toward the stellar north and began climbing out of the star’s gravity well toward the rendezvous point, about sixty million kilometers and twelve hours out.
Long before then, though, she hoped to have located the enemy’s main planet, the seat of their government where the Monarch, the Father-Mother of the Brood as Ikthor had termed the creature, held its council.
“I’m getting some order of battle information now, ma’am,” Fletcher said.
Commander Ford at Weapons seemed annoyed every time Fletcher spoke, probably because he still had nothing to shoot. Okuda at the helm had his eyes closed the better to see his own, wider pilot’s universe, his ebony pate shining in the glow of the holotank above.
Commander Johnstone eyed Scoggins speculatively, and then turned back to his CyberComm duties. She expected he was already searching for enemy data streams to hack into.
Doc Horton scrolled through BioMed updates and gave her admiral a thumbs-up when she noticed Scoggins looking over her shoulder. “Everyone came through all right except a few dozen Ryss warriors that freaked out and had to be sedated again,” she said. “There are always a few bad reactions to any drug, and many of them have refused their version of the Eden virus.”
“Taboos take time to overcome,”
Scoggins replied, thinking of the Plague Wars that had wracked Earth. “They’re lucky Trissk finally came out in favor of it and their race won’t be shackled by that short lifespan anymore.”
The doctor raised her eyebrows. “Just as long as they accept having fewer kits per litter and less often…”
Scoggins clapped the doctor on the shoulder and said, “Once we’re out of here, let’s have a drink and shoot the shit, all right?” Horton had become one of her confidantes in the months she’d spent preparing the expedition, especially as she’d found her husband, Commander James Ford, becoming increasingly difficult.
She thought it might be because she’d progressed so much farther in her career than he had in his, but that was his own fault. His abrasive personality didn’t lend itself to command, and despite her putting in a word in his favor, Absen had vetoed James for a C-ship of his own. Instead, the admiral had offered him one of the new cruisers already under construction if he stayed back, but he’d turned that down for now, preferring to remain as her weapons officer.
Putting her marital musings aside, Scoggins turned back to the holotank. “Come on, Fletcher. Give me a target!”
“If you don’t mind?” Michelle caught Fletcher’s eye. “I have spare processing capacity right now. I can work up some heat maps of the electromagnetic traffic in this system.”
“Please do,” Fletcher said. “I’m running an optical imagery search first, trying to identify large military and industrial facilities.”
“What about their ships?” Scoggins asked. “Is anyone looking for them?”
“I have a collections team working on that, Admiral, feeding Fleede and his intel people for their Order of Battle database,” Fletcher replied, reminding her that her bridge officers were not alone, merely her interfaces to whole sections of crewmembers deep in the bowels of Conqueror. “The problem is, unless they’re under powered drive, ships are tiny compared to planets, moons and asteroids. Also, the light from our emergence hasn’t even reached three AU, so they can’t know we’re here. In about another half hour, we should see their fleet lighting up to maneuver against us, I’d expect.”
“It would be absolutely fabulous if we could be on our way toward their capital planet before that happened,” Scoggins replied. “The longer we wait, the less the surprise of our appearance will accomplish.”
The half hour Fletcher predicted passed, representing the rest of the time it took for the light of the task force’s fusions drives to reach the enemy and their own to return. “We got ships!” he crowed, and a moment later the holotank began to populate with icons.
In orbit above each of fifteen out of seventeen worlds flew one flagship such as had attacked Earth so recently, along with dozens of motherships per planet in various states of assembly – some relatively bare, some nearly completed, their shells of resin embedded with swarm craft. Also, rising from the surface of each planet like agitated hornets were millions of fighters, gunships and assault boats
One planet seemed relatively empty of forces, though, with a mere pair of mothership cores, no flagship, and relatively few auxiliaries.
The final one…
“Give me everything you have on that,” Scoggins said, pointing to one icon above the last planet.
At her request, auxiliary screens lit up and the holotank zoomed in to show a spherical ship pimpled with graser turrets.
Hundreds of them.
“Well, there’s the mother of all flagships,” Scoggins breathed, looking at the thing. “It’s a friggin’ Death Star.”
Sixty kilometers in diameter, the radar scans showed the ship – mobile fortress might be a better term – to be solid, without the add-on latticework and ablative resins that formed the skin of other Scourge structures.
“Even a D-ship can’t stand up to that thing,” Ford said in horror. “If it has the autofire system we saw on the last flagship, as soon as one TacDrives in, he’ll get shot to shit. Except maybe Deathbringer. His particle beams outrange their grasers.”
“That’s why we built them,” Scoggins replied. “But we may have a simpler solution. Can we TacSLAM that ship?”
“Not from here, Skipper. We’re twenty-five light-minutes away, and it’s already maneuvering. No way we can hit from here.”
“How close do we have to be?”
“Like with all lightspeed weapons, we have to be within about a million klicks to get good hits on maneuvering targets.”
Scoggins turned to Michelle. “Do we think their Monarch, their queen or whatever, is aboard that thing?”
“The intelligence summaries disagree, Admiral. Based on interrogations of Ikthor and his officers, Archons have a strong taboo against killing each other, but all that means is that political losers are marginalized, banished or imprisoned instead of executed. On the other hand, apparently assassination is anathema, and never happens. Therefore, there’s no reason for their supreme leader to be so paranoid he has to remain aboard a warship for protection.”
“Great. If we could pinpoint him, hopefully on a planet, we could conduct a surgical strike.” Scoggins chewed on her lip. “That planet, the one the mega-ship orbits…I bet that’s their capital. We’ll call it Center Prime. I remember they’re supposed to have sixteen Council Archons, making one world for each plus one for the big boss. And you notice the one without a flagship? I bet that’s Ikthor’s.”
“Makes sense,” Johnstone said. “I’m getting far more comms traffic off that one than any of the others.”
“What about comms traffic with the mega-ship?”
“Nothing major. I see what you’re getting at, ma’am. If their leader were aboard, there would be more comms – orders being passed and so on. If they work like we do, everyone in this system is clamoring for instructions – and that means their governmental center is actually on that planet. Unless, of course, everything is piped into a narrow beam between the ship and the ground for further distribution.”
Scoggins stared at the holotank, terribly aware that time was ticking away, but also certain that one correct decision at the start could well mean the difference between success or failure.
“All right. Our top objective is to wipe out their Monarch and, hopefully, their Council, not get into some grand battle. That means we need to locate the seat of government on that planet and smash it, and we can’t do that from this distance.” Her fingers tapped her chin. “What kind of orbit is that mega-ship in? Geosynchronous?”
“No, polar, though it’s broken orbit already.”
“Damn.” Scoggins knew that if it had been parked over one particular spot on the planet’s surface, that might have given them an idea of exactly where to look. “Johnstone, can you pinpoint the location of the comms?”
The CyberComm officer shook his head. “There are thousands of sources and a network of cities across the planet, including hundreds of comm satellites.”
“I guess the Scourge do construct as well as consume,” Doctor Horton mused.
“Don’t start feeling sympathy for them, Doc,” Scoggins replied. “Termites build complex mounds, but we still wipe them out when they try to eat our houses. Too bad the Scourge-killing virus didn’t pan out.” The bugs’ immune systems turned out to be too tough to crack in the time they’d had.
“So when are we going to hit them, Skipper?” Ford asked impatiently.
“Gather round and I’ll explain my plan,” the admiral said.
Chapter 31
Commodore Chiren gave the word. “Desolator, pass to all my ships: pulse on your mark for maximum synchrony. All are authorized extremis protocol.”
“Yes, Commodore.” Immediately, the seven original Ryss superdreadnoughts engaged their TacDrives, all aiming for points near Center Prime, but about four light-seconds from the mega-ship’s position.
Relativistic effects turned twenty-five minutes of travel in the outside universe into less than two within each ship, and moments later Desolator dropped out of pulse.
&nbs
p; “Evasive!” Chiren snapped, but Desolator had already engaged his massive thrusters and fusion engines to throw himself into an aim-spoiling stagger. Arrival at one point two million kilometers distance from the enemy super-ship represented eight seconds round trip for any radar signal and four for a graser bolt to travel, enough time for the violent maneuvering to reduce the likelihood of a hit to less than one in ten.
Unfortunately, this was a great enough probability that at least one or two D-ships would likely be struck.
Desolator already engaged scattered swarm craft, the outer edges of the group escorting the monster ship, picking them off easily with his thousands of point-defense lasers. He had no fear of such little things unless their concentration grew exponentially.
It was the grasers that mattered.
A shining beam appeared nearby, defined by the dozens of Scourge craft it inadvertently vaporized on its way from the mega-ship toward Desolator, turning them into blazing beacons that outlined the tube of gamma rays for all to see. It had missed by a dozen kilometers, far too close for comfort…but in space, a miss was a miss.
Already, Desolator and his kin slammed alpha strikes of coordinated particle beams, huge weapons made small only by the scale of their opponent. Each score of discharges sought to focus on one of the many squat graser turrets, trying to disable the enemy one piece at a time.
Or so it seemed.
As he watched, Chiren knew the seven’s true role was to provide a distraction, to draw the enemy’s fire and to discover the capabilities of the enemy.
“Deathbringer approaches,” his sensors officer said five seconds before the time appointed.
“Signal the charge.” Involuntarily, Chiren stood to stare at the main screen to his front, which showed mega-ship in the center and the battle around it. The seven AI warriors immediately reduced their evasive maneuvering and turned to hurry directly toward their enemy.
On time, the eighth, the specialized Ryss ship, slammed through the edge of the swarm with a spectacular display of fused small craft.
Conquest and Empire (Stellar Conquest Series Book 5) Page 30