by Eric Nylund
Covenant plasma, so bright it seemed to ignite the black fabric of space, hit the fleet and burned the Constantinople, Troy, and melted the prow of the Lowrentz.
More than a thousand missiles left crisscrossing exhaust trails as they sped toward their target. The larger Shiva missiles fell behind the swarm.
Explosions spread throughout the fleet as new plasma ejected from the Covenant ship—destroying the Maelstrom, the Waterloo, and the Excellence.
“MAC system power at maximum,” Sekmet announced. “Automatic firing sequence to commence in three seconds . . . two . . . one.”
The remaining ships in Battle Group X-ray fired their magnetic accelerator cannons—twenty-seven simultaneous lightning strikes that flashed across space and struck the Covenant vessel.
The alien ship blurred behind its shields . . . opaque for a split second.
The Archer warheads hit, splashing fire and fury across the curve of her flank.
And then dozens of new suns ignited—a corona of manmade nuclear violence. It was a cloud of destruction that writhed and contorted and clawed at the enemy ship for a full three seconds as the UNSC group continued at flank speed toward their target.
“Alter course, sir?” a commander asked.
“Remain on target,” Cole said.
And in a whisper so low that while was it picked up by the bridge log microphone, no one else could have possibly heard, Cole said: “Fix bayonets.”
The fleet hurled toward the inferno boiling about the alien ship.
The stern of the Covenant ship deformed—blasted outward as the interior shuttered and imploded, and ejected a double cone of blue-white hot plasma.
The bridge crew erupted into wild cheers.
“Course correction,” Cole said. “Starboard group about to 060 by 030. Port group to 270 by 270.”
“New course transmitted and acknowledged,” Sekmet replied.
The fleet split and veered from the spreading fields of churning destruction.
“Bring us about to search for survivors,” Cole ordered.
He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and then refocused on the tactical board. Cole touched an icon and watched as the names of destroyed vessels—and the thousands of men and woman who had served and died under his command—scrolled into view.
Classified communiqué from Vice Admiral Preston Cole to
Admiral Harold Stanforth May 2531 (Military Calendar)
UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND TRANSMISSION 102482-02
ENCRYPTION CODE: RED
PUBLIC KEY: FILE / VEGAS-ANACONDA-MOCKINGBIRD-ZERO /
FROM: VICE ADMIRAL PRESTON COLE, COMMANDING OFFICER UNSC EVEREST / (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00814-13094-BQ)
TO: ADMIRAL HAROLD STANFORTH, USNC REGION ONE COMMANDER / REACH CENTCOM (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00834-19223-HS)
SUBJECT: SAFEGUARDING NAVIGATION DATA – MORE THOUGHTS
CLASSIFICATION: SECRET (BGX DIRECTIVE)
Harold,
I’ve gone over this a dozen times: starting with our capture and interrogation of the alien creature my doctors are calling an “Elite” and ending with my tenuous conclusions and recommendations.
It doesn’t make sense. My gut tells me the entire war hinges on something that we have overlooked.
First, and foremost, the Elite was xenophobic. The venom with which it spoke of humanity and its one desire—even as it bled out on the table—to find Earth and burn it to hot ashes . . . left zero doubt.
With that in mind, I still believe that safeguarding Earth’s position is of vital importance. I plan to immediately implement the directives I drafted and sent to ONI for review, namely:
1. All UNSC and civilian ships that come into contact with alien assets must have nav computer network/AI erased—destroyed, if necessary—to prevent capture of core world locations.
2. ALL human vessels fleeing alien forces must do so on randomly generated vectors away from UNSC core worlds.
3. ONI Section II to begin slipstream space attenuation broadcast of prerecorded human carrier signals from antiquity to prevent triangulation of Earth.
But, like I said, some things about this do not add up.
First, I do not understand why the aliens DON’T know where Earth is. They have technology hundreds of years more advanced than ours. All one has to do to find Earth is stick a radio antenna into space and triangulate on the source. I suspect something is occurring within the Covenant hierarchy that has prevented Earth from being targeted, or perhaps appreciated . . . something our captured alien had no knowledge of.
Second, my recommendation for ONI to obfuscate the radio signature in slipstream space (directive 3) might be our best bet to keep rogue elements within the Covenant military from finding Earth and preemptively attacking. Considering the dangers of any energy manipulation in slipstream space, however, I’m going to need your support with Parangosky to use her assets in what she’ll consider an “extreme-risk” operation.
Third, I need solid intelligence on the enemy. Do they seem to see us as some kind of religious aggressor . . . following some hitherto unknown ritual that accounts for them destroying our Outer Colonies before Earth? Or another possibility—an anthropomorphic gulf—that we have so many inhabited worlds, some more powerful militarily, economically than Earth—what if they’re not interested in our homeworld strategically—but rather for some other, unknowable reason?
I can fight them, Harold, but only so effectively without knowing why they hate us.
I keep thinking of Sun Tzu: “If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperiled in every single battle.”
I look forward to your thoughts on this, my old friend.
Be well.
Preston
Personal log (audio), Vice Admiral Preston Cole, Commanding
Officer UNSC Everest June 27, 2541 (Military Calendar)
Tonight a bottle of Capellan Vodka and I reviewed some of the old battles.
The Origami Asteroid Field in 2526—My fleet of one hundred seventeen UNSC ships of the line fought twelve Covenant vessels. We won that at the cost of thirty-seven ships.
Xo Boötis in 2528—Seventy ships versus eight Covenant. Another “victory.” That time I lost thirty ships.
Groombridge 2530—Seventeen against three. We lost eleven destroyers. Still a win.
Leonis Minoris in 2537—only ten UNSC ships lost, but the Covenant glassed the other two colonies in system. God—I couldn’t save them all; I had to make the choice.
Another twenty-three engagements (or was it twenty-four . . . does Alpha Cephei count?) like those over the past ten years . . . or is it fifteen? So much travel in slipspace. So much subjective time lost to damnable Heisenberg uncertainties and in cryosleep.
It’s killing me . . . although I seem to have somehow, technically, lived through it all.
They told me to fight, and that’s what I’ve done. Let historians sort through the wreckage, bodies, and broken lives to figure out the rest.
Yet, how many men and women have I had to watch die? How many would have perished on colony worlds if not for their sacrifice? I look into space and no longer see wonder and stars and the endless possibilities that I did when I was a cadet. I see nothing but a cold death.
I hope CENTCOM can see farther than I do and planned for all contingencies: including not winning this war.
If the unthinkable happens—Earth and her colonies reduced to ash as promised by that Covenant Elite—where can humanity escape to? Perhaps there are already plans in motion: a colony vessel en route to some secret distant world where we can start over.
So this sacrifice we endure has purpose.
ANALYSIS
* * *
Cole won every major engagement he committed his forces to against the Covenant. On only two occasions did he encounter an enemy fleet he con
sidered too large to take, and then he would return in both cases with reinforcements—most notably at the Battle of Psi Serpentis (more on that fateful encounter in a moment).
The losses of ships and people under Cole’s command were staggering. Any normal battle group would have been dismantled and reassigned, and their commander given some rest—but Cole was a victim of his own popularity. CENTCOM could not allow their symbol to fail, so they kept reinforcing Cole with new ships and crews—and kept their fingers crossed that he wouldn’t snap from the strain.
Imagine fighting Stalingrad and Cold Harbor and defending the Hot Gates with three hundred Spartans and repelling the Mexican Army at the Alamo—and then having to repeat those lopsided, impossible fights over and over.
Certainly Cole knew this that first time he faced that Covenant super-destroyer at Harvest. His unheard remark on the bridge of Everest, “Fix bayonets,” is a reference to Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain’s famous charge down Little Round Top at the battle of Gettysburg.
Chamberlain had orders to defend the far left end of the Union line, and had repelled numerous assaults upon his position. When the Fifteenth Alabama regiment charged up the hill toward Chamberlain’s exhausted and low-on-ammunition Twentieth Maine regiment, instead of falling back, Chamberlain ordered his men to “fix bayonets” and charge down the hill. That apocryphal moment is considered to have saved the line, the Union army at Gettysburg, and perhaps determined the entire outcome of the first American Civil War.
Likewise, Cole knew he had to win no matter the cost in ships or lives or even to his sanity. Because if he failed, the enemy would destroy entire worlds; millions and billions of lives were his sole responsibility.
Mere psychological analysis cannot reveal the nature of what could keep any man going under such never-ending pressure.
Certainly we see in that last personal log that Cole had reached the nadir of his spirits. All he needed was a push to send him to his end, a push which soon arrived—but from something he could never have foreseen.
SECTION SEVEN: THE COVENANT WAR: THE BATTLE OF PSI SERPENTIS (2543 CE)
* * *
{Excerpt} UNSC After-Action Report: Battle Group Sierra-3
AI-enhanced battle summation and causality reports attached.
Battle Group Sierra-3 engages Covenant in 18 Scorpii.
PRELIMINARY: Battle Group Sierra-3, comprising two UNSC destroyers and one cruiser engaged a Covenant CPV-class heavy destroyer in the 18 Scorpii System, March 6, 2543 (Military Calendar). The UNSC Seattle and Thermopylae sustained moderate damage, while the Io sustained heavy damage. Covenant vessel destroyed.
SUMMARY ADDENDUM: The Convenant ship inflected heavy damage and Sierra-3 group was unable to peel its shields. Io’s FTL drive was inoperative, so I faced a decision to fall back and save two destroyers, or fight and possibly lose all those ships. Reinforcements arrived when unknown friendly ships jumped in system. Additional firepower penetrated enemy shields.
Lead reinforcement ship’s silhouette matched a thirty-year-old UNSC frigate design with major modifications (see technical reports attached). Passive transponder pinged and yielded a ship reg. number, identifying the UNSC Bellerophon. Friendlies jumped out-system before comm contact established.
CAPTAIN’S NOTE: I don’t believe in ghost ships. But I don’t care if it is the Bellerophon, or if it was the Flying Dutchman sent by Lucifer himself—they saved our hides. Transmitted thanks to them before they jumped out and wished them well . . . whoever they were, and wherever they were headed.
SECTION PREFATORY REMARKS
I start this section with the Sierra-3 After-Action Report as it was the catalyst for what happened next (or so I believe).
Cole had to have seen the report. He was in charge of military operations in Sector Three, and a man of his exacting detail would not let a report—a report of a UNSC victory no less—pass his desk without a glance.
Cole’s analytical mind likely came to two possible explanations for the sighting of the Bellerophon, aka Bellicose. (1) The Bellerophon was incorrectly identified. Or (2) the Bellerophon escaped or faked falling into the gravity well of a gas giant and its subsequent destruction twenty-nine years prior.
The captain of the Bellicose, clever enough to face Cole thrice in battle and live, might have been able to engineer such a deception (although an in-atmosphere FTL jump while accelerating was only a theoretical possibility at that time).
And given the ONI revelation in 2503 of the public identity of the Bellicose’s insurgent captain, it also makes perfect sense that she would want to drop off their radar in such a permanent and unequivocal fashion.
But why would Bellicose rescue Sierra-3? Had the remnants of the Outer Colony insurgency resurfaced to unite with their former enemy to face a greater threat?
Or was Lyra Castilla’s reason personal? Did she reappear to send a message to Cole? Or am I stretching the limits of my analysis with romanticism?
That we will never know.
Cole’s personal logs cease after February 2533. His normal pattern of behavior also altered—nothing overtly suspicious, and all within the prerogative of a vice admiral—but as we will soon see, seemingly innocuous actions and orders would culminate in the momentous death of Preston Cole.
Restricted communiqué from Vice Admiral Preston
Cole to REACH LOGISTICS March 9, 2543
(Military Calendar)
UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND TRANSMISSION 116749-09
ENCRYPTION CODE: RED
PUBLIC KEY: FILE / VEGAS-ANACONDA-MOCKINGBIRD-ZERO /
FROM: VICE ADMIRAL PRESTON COLE, COMMANDING OFFICER UNSC EVEREST / (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00814-13094-BQ)
TO: ADMIRAL DALE KILKIN, UNSC CENTRAL COMMAND, REACH LOGISTICS OFFICE / (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 007981-63882-GE)
SUBJECT: REQUISITIONS, TRANSFERS, AND FAVORS
CLASSIFICATION: RESTRICTED (BGE DIRECTIVE)
Dale,
Recent prowler reports indicate a Covenant armada massing in Sector Three. I need my ships repaired, refitted, and battle-ready ASAP. Code these orders CRIMSON, and pull in favors people owe me to make it happen. You know what I mean.
1. Requisition: 600 tungsten-layered titanium-A armor plates (radiation-absorption rating: 5), replacement and upgrades for degraded armor plates on Everest, et al.
2. Requisition: Additional “smart” nav AI. Sealed and un-booted. Back-up for Everest. Current AI operating at 68% capacity.
3. Order: Pull the Io out of space dock and tow her to my position. Too far gone to repair, but Captain Wren has an idea to use her as a fire ship.
4. Requisition: Ordnance: 105 Shiva nuclear missiles (VE-3 type), 2400 Archer missiles, 45,000 blocks Helix System ammunition (see additional nonordnance supplies in Attachment A).
5. Requisition: Detailed stellar survey of Section Three, sub-volume D-6. Emphasis on systems with proto-brown dwarf gas giants.
6. Transfers: I can’t lead my fleet into battle when half my officers are on the verge of collapse from fatigue. List of crew transfers in Attachment B. List of requested crew replacements in Attachment C.
7. Favor: I have a theoretical Shaw-Fujikawa manifold calculation that needs crunching through the ONI AI network on Reach. They’re the only ones in the Outer Colonies with the raw power to get the job done.
8. Wish me luck.
UNSC Everest
Preston J. Cole
COPY TO: LOGISTICS OFFICE, NAVCOM, REACH.
OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE, SECTION-III, REACH
0915 APRIL 18, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR) UNSC CRUISER
EVEREST FLAGSHIP BATTLE GROUP INDIA PSI SERPENTIS SYSTEM
THE BATTLE OF PSI SERPENTIS {AI RECREATION BASED ON
VIDEO, AUDIO, AND SENSOR LOGS—BLACK BOX RECORDERS—AND
EYEWITNESS ACCOUNTS}
When Battle Group India transitioned into normal space in the Psi Serpentis System, it was the largest assembly of UNSC forces: thirteen cruisers, twenty-thr
ee carriers, seventy-nine destroyers, forty-two frigates, five prowlers—and fifty supply, repair, and rescue vessels (those latter ships remaining in slipstream space for the duration of the engagement).
The wake from the massive transition into normal space sent a ripple outward from the fleet’s entry point—a distortion across the electromagnetic spectrum that propagated from their location three million kilometers above the planetary plane of Psi Serpentis.
It made auroras sparkle over the nearest three planets. It caused a visible shift in the smoldering red eye of Viperidae, the gas giant with thirteen times the mass of Jupiter (with gravity nearly enough to crush and fuse the hydrogen churning in its atmosphere).
. . . and the ripple passed through the massing Covenant ships on the far side of the system.
An unmistakable signal to the enemy.
The Covenant ships appeared on radar like a swarm of sharks in the dark—more than a hundred sleek organic silhouettes registered—CPV destroyers, light cruisers, and the hitherto unseen in battle CCS-class battle cruiser.
Their prows collectively turned toward Battle Group India, lateral plasma lines pulsing and illuminating hulls so it looked as if an entire alien fleet emerged from the shadows by sleight of hand.
The UNSC prowler Wink of an Eye, having been in system for seven days waiting for this moment, moved into its proper position and reappeared, only visible because its active camouflage skin could not keep pace with the churning red and orange surface of Viperidae behind it . . . the prowler sent a radar ping to the UNSC forces to verify its position, and then the Wink flash transitioned into slipstream space to drop guidance beacons.
Battle Group India one by one moved into slipstream space, the preliminary Shaw-Fujikawa calculations having been done a week previously by Cole himself.
And the entire fleet then reappeared two seconds later, one hundred thousand kilometers on the opposite side of Viperidae—positioned so the gas giant blocked the enemy sight line.
UNSC FTL technology, however, was not perfect—especially over short intersystem hops near gravity wells. A dozen UNSC ships reappeared, scattered from the main group.