The Admiral grimaced, and she could tell that he was remembering what she had gone through to rescue him and his command. It was not a pleasant memory for either of them.
“Just be careful, stay in touch, and don’t take too many chances,” the Admiral finally said. “I will organize a force to come after you. That way you’ll have some more firepower if it comes down to an armed rescue.”
“Your primary task, Admiral, is to get this local area under control,” said Pandi, pointing her finger at the man. “You’ll need those ships here. I don’t think anyone will threaten the station, now that it’s manned and ready. But your exploration and bootstrap parties are a different animal altogether. We still don’t know all the players in this region, and having an advanced force at hand is what I call a necessity.”
“I’ll worry about the station and its projects,” said the Admiral, returning her level gaze. “You worry about yourself and your mission. And bring Watcher back, if he’s still alive, and those ships and crews no matter what condition he is in.”
Pandora nodded and stood up. The Admiral came to his feet and gave her a salute, eliciting a frown from her freckled face. She gave a short laugh and walked from the room. I guess I’m caught up in the military traditions, whether I like it or not, she thought as she made her way to her quarters, forcing herself to remember to return salutes on the way. I’m going to be a flippin commodore on the voyage, so I might as well get used to the title.
“And how are you doing, you little shit?” she asked as she walked into her quarters and the ginger cat named Hannibal jumped down from the couch and ran toward her, his pretty red eyes staring up into hers. He let out a plaintive meow and she bent over to give him a pat on the head. “I know you miss him. Well, you’ll be here to welcome him when he comes back.”
She had thought at length about bringing the animal with her, Watcher’s favorite of the several that stalked this area of the station. But it put the animal at risk bringing it on a combat mission. And Watcher will never forgive me if anything happens to you, she thought as she plopped down on the couch and the cat jumped up beside her. She ran her hand over the soft fur and the creature purred deeply.
I need some sleep, she thought, laying back on the couch and letting the animal settle in next to her. Great thing about modern tech, she thought as she sent a command to her implant to stimulate her reticular activating system. No staying up with stress and tension before a big day. That was her last thought, as the reticular activating system sent her into a deep sleep that would only end when her internal alarm told it to.
* * *
I’ve got to get out of here, thought Watcher as he severed the link with the ship’s computer. According to the navigation computer the battleship he was on, as well as the rest of the force, was a little over halfway to its destination. They were in hyper VII, with a pseudospeed of over thirty-five thousand times light. The borders of the New Terran Empire were over three thousand light years from the Supersystem, and the core system of that polity was a thousand light years from that border. It was a fifty-two day trip overall, counting time to accelerate and decelerate back down, one that his own ships could make in a little over thirteen days. And just our bad luck that the bastards had to be so close to us.
He had been checking out the databases about the Empire, and what he saw was chilling. They had quadrupled the size of their empire in the last hundred years, and it was increasing at a geometric rate. At its present expansion it would double again in the next twenty years, then again ten years later. And most of the developing powers in that space didn’t have a prayer. There were twelve other multi-star system governments in that threatened space, and none of them stood a chance against the Empire.
It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t complete dicks, he thought, recalling more of the information he had gleaned from the databanks. The Empire was ruled by a single human male, one who had lived for over five hundred years, and looked as if he had no intention of dying anytime soon. It was a totalitarian regime that brooked no dissension or interference with its plans and policies. Just the kind of government Watcher despised.
Watcher linked back in with the ship, this time going beyond the safe confines that he had set himself, going straight into the heart of the security programs. He had been here before, for fleeting instants, checking out the sensitivity of the programs to intruders, learning what he could get away with. Now he took some steps beyond those boundaries.
He had determined that now was the best time to escape, while they were still outside the borders of the Empire, while he only had to escape and avoid these ships. The only problem was, he still didn’t know if that was possible.
He looked through the security system and noted that all the nearby corridors were empty. There were security personnel on duty in the surveillance room that oversaw this block of cells (and there sure were enough of those on what was supposed to be a warship). The rest of the corridors leading to his planned destination were as empty as could be during the late night cycle of the ship, when the only people up were those who had duty stations to man.
Watcher’s mind, the most powerful organic data processing instrument in the Galaxy since the disappearance of the almost legendary Ancients, moved with ease through the systems of the ship. For a moment he had the access to make the ship do anything he wanted. That access was only momentary, and would give away the game, but he could do it.
He set the security systems to indicate that his cell was occupied, and that the door had remained closed, even while it was opening to his front. The sensors at the security station would continue to monitor his calm heartbeat, while the visual pickups would show a lifelike image of himself, pieced together from hundreds of hours of surveillance recordings, sitting on his bed, or sleeping, or any of a thousand other actions.
Watcher slipped through the door, glancing in both directions, his superior mind filling in every detail with that one look. The cell door closed behind him, and he started moving the direction he wanted, his own location appearing in his optical centers on a schematic of the ship.
The battleship massed fifteen million tons, and measured well over two kilometers by eight hundred meters. There were six thousand people aboard, spacemen and marines. If he had to fight his way through them all he was dead. But so far it was looking very good that he might be able to sneak through to where he wanted to be. After that, it would be up to his skills at manipulating the computer to get off the ship and away, spoofing their sensors and dropping off their plot.
The armory he had scoped out was ahead and to the right. Its lock was no more advanced than that of his cell, and the thick door slid in and to the side as he approached. Of course, there was an inner door on a separate circuit, but that was only a microsecond of effort to open it in the same way. Inside the armory was rack after rack of weapons, as well as some various sizes of body armor. No powered armor, which was a bit disappointing, but not really unexpected. Naval powered armor would be stored where the crew could get to it during battle alerts, while the marine version would be kept by their quarters.
It took a little over a minute to strap on some of the body armor, breast and back plate, shoulder pads, forearm and thigh guards, and a tactical helmet. He strapped on several hand weapons, then chose the most powerful rifle he could find. Again, it was not what he would have preferred, but it was the best he could get at the moment.
The armory sealed itself up after he left, and he continued on his way, tapping into the security system to see ahead of him, making sure he was not running into any of the crew. There were some tense moments there, as he saw people wandering halls on several occasions, and once an armed patrol, which made him wonder how much this Admiral trusted his own people
It’s just ahead, he thought, walking down the corridor, his booted feet not making the slightest sound. He gripped the particle beam rifle in his hands, ready for any betraying movement that would warn him of an enemy. The weapon seeme
d somewhat primitive compared to what he was used to, and he was sure that it was not in the same class as what he had carried off of the station, but hopefully powerful enough to defeat their own armor. The helmet on his head had its com activated, at least the receiving portion of the tactical communications link.
He pushed a small probe around a corner that was the last before the main corridor that led to the hangar. The probe was a small fiber optic line that was flexible enough to shape to any desired configuration. It was attached to his helmet, and gave him a view of whatever the end was pointed to. Now it was giving him a view of two battle suited Marines standing before the hatch that led into the hangar, particle beam rifles in their hands.
Now how in the hell do I get past them, he thought, knowing that if he shot the men an alarm would definitely sound. That concern was rendered moot as said alarm went off, a loud klaxon that sounded through the corridor along with red flashing lights.
“The prisoner has escaped,” came a voice over the tactical com. “Repeat, the being known as Watcher has escaped and is at large on the ship. He is to be considered extremely dangerous.”
So much for caution, he thought, crawling around the corner to expose his head and rifle, sighting in on the first of the Marines, who were now alertly looking up the corridor. He developed an instant sight picture and squeezed his trigger, connecting the red beam from the end of his rifle to the faceplate of the Marine. He kept the beam in contact for more than a second, not sure of how strong it was. The faceplate dissolved in a flash of vaporized alloy, followed by a spurt of reddish steam as the beam demolished the face behind it. The Marine dropped, while his partner swung his rifle around and fired at Watcher, putting his beam just above the superman.
Shit, thought Watcher, as he scooted back behind the corner, the searing heat of the near miss blistering the flesh on his neck. He had made an estimate of the rifle’s power, and while definitely not in the class of his own tech, it was powerful enough to kill him quickly. He expects me to come crawling around again. He’ll be ready for that. So I need to do something different.
Something different was to come rocketing around the corner, leaping forward, his rifle tracking onto the standing Marine, sending a beam out that struck the enemy’s weapon and the hand that was holding the forward grip. The Marine yelled and dropped his rifle, and Watcher swept he beam up into his helmet.
He ran to the hatch while trying to link with the computer and open it. His mind ran into a wall, the security systems up and alerted. Watcher stepped back, aiming his rifle at the hatch with a low expectation of success, but not knowing what else to do. He triggered the beam, letting it eat into the alloy of the hatch. Some metal vapor spurted into the air, but he could tell right off that it wasn’t enough. Thirty seconds of fire and the beam died, and a quick look at the rifle showed an empty proton pack.
He pulled the used pack out of the rifle while looking at the superficial gouge in the hatch. Just as he pulled a new pack from the belt, he heard the approach of armored footsteps, and looked up to see a number of Marines and Spacers heading his way, weapons pointed menacingly.
“Drop that weapon and stand against the wall,” said the Naval officer who was leading the group. “Do it. Now.”
Watcher didn’t think they would be very happy with his killing of two of their own. And I sure don’t want to see what they’re going to do about it. With that thought he slammed the proton pack home and started to close the port.
The sonics sounded, and his muscles quivered as they tried to put him down. He raised his weapon, trying to sight in on one of the enemy. His vision was blurred, he couldn’t see anything, but still pulled the trigger, sending a beam down the corridor. The vibrations intensified as more sonic weapons were brought the bear, and the superman fought against the darkness that was attempting to engulf him. With a sigh consciousness left, and first his rifle hit the floor, then his body, as everything went black.
* * *
“I’ve never seen anything like it, sir,” said the engineering officer, looking down at the superman. “We hit him with enough sonics to drop a mammota.”
The Admiral shook his head, imagining the twenty ton herbivore that roamed the wastes of the home world. Then he looked over at his dead Marines and frowned yet again.
“Take this thing to surgery,” he told the officer, glaring at the creature he would have loved to destroy. But that is not my mission. He must be tried, then executed in front of all. “I want all of his implants removed.”
“That might cause damage to his brain, sir,” said the officer.
“I don’t care if it makes him a flippen idiot,” said the Admiral. “As long as he’s alive to stand trial. And as long as he can stand in front of the people, and be killed for his sins. As long as he can’t try another stunt like this.”
The Admiral shook his head one more time and moved on, thinking of when he would reach the home world in triumph.
Chapter Three
There is one safeguard known generally to the wise, which is an advantage and security to all, but especially to democracies as against despots - suspicion.
Demosthenes
Pandi sat in the command chair of the Niven, her eyes locked on the viewer that showed the Donut behind them. The seemingly thin ribbon of the enormous station glowed under its internal lighting, a sign of farewell by Admiral Krishnamurta. It feels like I’m leaving my home again, she thought, staring at the 3D view screen. And I’m damned if I return without he who is supposed to rule there.
Niven was boosting out from the station at eighteen hundred gravities, two hundred below her maximum, her sisters keeping station a hundred thousand kilometers to either side. She would reach a velocity of over sixty thousand kilometers per second, twenty percent light speed, a little less than an hour after launch. And even with the advanced technology of the ships, they couldn’t move to hyper I until they reached two light hours from the intense gravitational field of the black hole.
“Course plotted to New Galactic Empire space,” said Lt. Commander Adrika Basumatary, the Flag Navigator, her dark eyes looking back at the woman the Suryans all adored.
New Galactic Empire, thought the woman from the past, looking down at the small viewer on the left side of her chair. Feeling kind of uppity about themselves, aren’t they. The area covered by the New Galactic Empire was less than a thousand light years out from its capital in any direction, making it much smaller than most of the Empires that had existed in the times before Galactic unity. The bad news was that they were expanding at a terrific rate, and there was nothing for thousands of light years around them capable of stopping their expansion. Except us, and we’ll be in their space in a little over a week.
“How’s she handling?” she asked Captain Dasha Mandrake, looking at the holo image of the woman on the right side repeater screen, a view of the ship’s primary bridge in the background.
“Everything seems to be in perfect working order, ma’am,” said the Captain with a smile. “It’s almost too perfect. I’m used to ships where ninety-five percent of functional capacity is considered as good as it gets. The ancestors sure knew how to make them.”
“That they did,” agreed the Commodore of the force, pulling up the schematic of the ships once more.
Niven was just over seven hundred meters in length, with a lean profile, and massed a little over one million tons. She was powered by both a pair of matter antimatter reactors, as well as four Baby Universe Modules, generated with the resources of the donut, each with the energy equivalent of a thousand tons of antimatter. The ship could accelerate up to point nine nine five light speed with her advanced particle screens, and was able to translate into hyper VIII, as well as open short range wormholes.
Her weapons included three powerful laser rings, a point nine nine nine four velocity particle beam, and missiles capable of thirty thousand gravities acceleration. And there were some other surprises in her that would come as a shock to her enemies. H
er EW and sensor suites were just as advanced, and she used wormhole com for instantaneous communications with her sisters. But she’s not invulnerable, thought the woman, who had grown up traveling in one gee ships that were barely able to leave humanity’s now dead home system. To her such tech seemed magical, even more so that it did to the Suryans. She had had more time to get used to it, but was coming at it from a more primitive initial tech base.
There were three hundred and forty-one crew aboard, thirty-two of them officers. Three quarters of the crew were Suryan humans, with a smattering of other species who were learning on the job how to deal with modern tech. There were also a hundred and twenty-one Marines aboard, half of them aliens, and over four hundred combat robots in storage. The other ships complements were more or less the same.
Pandora continued to stare at the main viewer through the time it took to get to the hyper barrier. It was only hyper I, but they could still travel faster in it to the next barrier than through normal space. She was now traveling at one hundred and twenty thousand kilometers per second, point four light, and the hole into the next dimension opened up at just the proper distance to let her slide in. There was a moment of nausea during the passage, and a couple of the aliens on the bridge became violently ill. She had been warned that some species were more susceptible to translation than others, though none were known to suffer any permanent effects. The ship continued to accelerate forward, and in another twenty minutes was jumping into hyper II.
Watcher had explained to her that, wormholes besides, the history of space transportation had revolved around the more effective use of the dimensions of hyperspace. Hyper I through III were easy, and then the inevitable progression up the scale until they hit VII, which seemed to be the absolute limit for transporting matter at pseudospeeds faster than light. There was a hyper VIII, but it seemed unapproachable for anything other than com. Ships were limited by how close they could translate in a gravity well, and their velocity of translation. Over thousands of years those parameters had been reduced and increased respectively, until ships could translate far into a system, and at ever increasing velocities.
Deeper and Darker (Deep Dark Well Book 3) Page 3