“When we reach the velocity limit for translation, I want all ships to drop back into normal space. All ships are then to power down to minimal emission profile.” She looked over at her Tactical Officer once again. “I want a second volley of hyper capable dropped into normal space five minutes before we drop. Understood?”
“Vector?”
“Same as we’re on. I’m hoping this second surprise might help us stay out of the spotlight.”
“Understood.”
“Carmine is requesting clarification of instructions,” reported the Com Officer.
Carmine was the Fleet destroyer with them, which carried four full volleys of hyper capable missiles, unlike the Command vessels which only carried two.
“They are to drop two volleys at that point,” she told the officer. “I want them to hold the last in reserve, and to have their tubes full of normal space missiles when we leave hyper.”
They were still ten minutes from their transfer point when the first group of enemy ships had reached the first group of missiles they had dropped into normal. Four ships continued on after the destroyers, pushing their twelve hundred gravity acceleration, their advantage, while one did the same with deceleration to get back down to translation speed, which, for them, seemed to be about point three three light, just a bit more than that of the human ships. They had almost reached that translation point, the ship they had obviously detailed to drop back to normal to investigate still some minutes from being able to come back into normal space itself.
The fifteen destroyer class hyper capable missiles all followed their programs and came translating up into VI, using a good bit of their stored energy in that operation. They came out of the holes in space kicking in their acceleration to above maximum, six thousand gravities, a rate their grabbers couldn’t maintain without overload for more than five minutes. Which was all they needed as they aimed for their targets with a head on vector.
The enemy vessels reacted quickly, firing their defensive weapons as soon as the missiles entered hyper. Seven dropped off the plot immediately, their clouds of plasma dropping back into normal space in an instant. Three more died seconds later, leaving five still on approach. One hit its target dead center, shattering the enemy ship with its closing velocity of point five light, the two hundred megaton warhead finishing the job. Three more were near misses, and one enemy ship came through with pieces of hull falling away and back into normal space, while the others continued on, and one remaining missile passed through on its way to the single decelerating ship. An instant later the damaged ship’s hyperdrive generator failed, and it catastrophically translated back into normal space.
The last missile juked and dodged as it came on the last ship, the one that had been decelerating to drop into normal space to check out the weapons that were now no longer an unknown. It barely missed, going into proximity kill mode and detonating a couple of kilometers off the hull of the ship, close enough for the heat and radiation to reach before falling out of hyper. The enemy ship was still operational, and started to accelerate again in an attempt to catch up to its fellows. Its six hundred and seventy gravity accel rate showed that it was heavily damaged, and would not catch up to the other ships before they reached the human force.
The two healthy ships continued on, their machine minds weighing the odds, calculating the mass differential, and choosing a course of action that would still bring them into battle in twenty minutes or so.
Matthews watched the plot, letting out a breath of tension as she saw that they were reacting as she hoped. They would only have two ships to take on, at least for the moment. The second, larger group would be along a half hour later. They had no idea they could outrun them in hyper with their acceleration advantage. What they didn’t know was that the human ships would not be in hyper VI when they got there.
“Dropping missiles,” called out the Tactical Officer, and the vector arrows of fifteen missiles dropped away from the ships, followed fifteen seconds later by five more. As soon as the second group moved away they all translated back down into normal space.
The Captain watched as the vector arrows of her force moved up to point two nine light, almost to the limit. She forced herself to breath, watching the enemy force, which seemed to be ignoring the missiles they had dropped, just what she wanted.
“Translating into normal space, now,” called out the Helmsman, and the queasy stomach feeling come over Matthews again.
All of the ships dropped into normal space, a moment later powering down all of their unnecessary systems. At point three light there was a minor problem with particle radiation, though the armored skin was enough to handle that. The nanoweave skins switched to radiating mode, the vessels attempting to rid themselves of all excess heat. Otherwise, the ships coasted in the direction they were already going, using just enough grabber power to adjust their course so that it didn’t really follow what the enemy was predicting.
The enemy ships translated down at the predicted point, accelerating at full power, their sensors sweeping the space ahead, where they predicted the human destroyers to be. What they didn’t predict was that the missiles the humans had dropped off earlier would be coasting up their ass. They were still powered down, seeking with passive sensors, acquiring their targets, which were decelerating furiously while sweeping the space ahead of them with active sensors. The missiles closed due to the decreasing velocity of their targets, which seemed to finally locate one of the destroyers. An instant later both of the enemy ships launched, each sending one of their eight thousand ton weapons out at four thousand gravities acceleration. Twenty seconds later they launched again, then seemed to pick up the following missiles on their passive sensors, less than two light seconds away.
The enemy ships lashed out with their active sensors at the missiles, straining to get immediate targeting solutions. When the radar and lidar struck the missiles reacted, boosting at five thousand gravities, going into evasive, jamming, doing everything they could to close with the enemy.
The ships tried to bring their own weapons back around, but they had to overcome their present velocity to reverse vectors. It was a losing proposition, and in switching targets they assured that the destroyers would not be targeted.
The human missiles came on. Five were blasted from space, four hit, three to one enemy ship, one to the other, and both vessels converted to plasma as the blasts breached their antimatter stores. The four weapons continued on to their last targets, acquiring what was still in front of them, the six missiles. Two hit and knocked out missiles, not an equitable exchange for the machines. Two detonated close enough to one of the missiles to take it out, leaving three missiles. Commands from the destroyers told them to decelerate and hold in place, setting the next trap, while the destroyers continued to coast away on another vector.
The damaged enemy ship translated down, several light minutes from the humans’ position. It immediately started sweeping space with sensors that were obviously damaged. The ships were stealthed down enough that anything that hit them was absorbed, and they were putting out too little in the way of electromagnetic emissions for the damaged enemy to detect.
“ETA to enemy translation,” called out the Tactical Officer, “Five point two five minutes.”
“If we jump to VI now,” reported the Helm Officer, “we can reach the VII barrier before they get here.”
“And we have no way of knowing if they can jump to VII,” said the Tactical Officer. “I say we wait and hope they don’t see us.”
“I concur,” said the Exec, and Matthews made her decision.
“We wait, all passives on full.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A little under five minutes later the Machine ships jumped into normal space, twelve light minutes from the destroyers, too far for their systems to pick up the mostly powered down stealthed ship. They were heading away from the destroyers, showing no sign they knew where they were.
“Everyone keep recording that
system. Stay alert. If the enemy looks like they might be coming for us, we’ll jump and run.”
Nothing came close, and they were able to gather much more disturbing data while they sat still in space.
Chapter Four
There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it.
Alfred Hitchcock
SECTOR I HQ, FEBRUARY 19TH, 1002.
“Dammit,” cursed Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk as she opened her eyes and realized where she was. Of course she was in bed, alone, which was not an unusual thing. While still an attractive woman, the type that many men dreamed of at first glance, she exuded the kind of attitude that chased men away like she was a ball busting demon. Even worse, she was still on a base, and not the flagship of a fleet. She was a fleet admiral without a fleet, and that was a tragedy as far as she was concerned.
Beata thought for a moment of just staying in bed. Her assignment here was shit. Running the Bureau of Personnel for this quiet sector, a slot for a vice admiral, a three star, and not someone of her lofty rank. That son of a bitch Jankovich, he thought, picturing the Grand Fleet Admiral who had promised her she would never again command a fleet. He knew I was the better officer. He was always jealous of me. Of course, telling him to go fuck himself on the deck of his own ship had not been the wisest of decisions. Beata had always spoken her mind, but had normally restricted that speech to subordinates, or at the maximum to those equal in rank. That had made her enemies, and for the most part she had not given a shit.
So she had been charged with insubordination, a charge that could have gotten her booted from the military. The Fleet did not like having its dirty laundry aired, and the powers that be knew she would speak up at any court martial. So she had been given the choice of that trial, and possible ejection from the service under dishonorable circumstances, or a meaningless promotion and assignment to a position that any idiot could fill.
The Admiral forced herself to get up and get ready for work. A dress uniform, freshly cleaned, all of her decorations arranged perfectly on the left breast area. Perfectly shined boots, no effort on her part since their built in nanosurface made sure of the surface perfection every night. She made sure that her long red hair, still her best feature, was arranged just so, then looked herself over in the mirror. She eschewed the makeup, even the permanent variety that could be worked into the skin, preferring to look, as she thought, like a warrior and not a floozy. Her eyes were still the kind that men adored, changing from deep blue to steel depending on her mood. Now, as almost always, they were steel, the color of her anger.
I definitely don’t need any damned man in my life, she thought. Nor a woman. I don’t need those complications. Part of that was that she had soured every relationship she had ever had with her demand for perfection. Perfect companion, perfect partner, perfect lover. The kind of person who didn’t exist.
Her driver and aircar were waiting for her by the time she hit the rooftop platform. The F class star was just cresting the horizon by the time they lifted. The bird analogues were already singing in the trees. She looked at the orb of the star coming up over the ocean that the city was built next to. That star was nearing the end of its lifetime, she thought sadly. Only ten million years or so before it went into a red giant phase. Ten million years, she thought with a laugh. Human history only stretched less than ten thousand years, and the span of the star’s remaining life was over a thousand times that long.
The admin building was built in the sprawling style of most developing worlds, on the side of a hill, overlooking the Sector capital and the ocean. It was a spectacular view, and one Beata wanted to put into her past. She wanted to be in space so bad it hurt. And the Fleet was determined that she not go there in any significant capacity ever again.
The hallway to her office was, as usual, crowded with people going to and from their own offices, meetings, and so forth. She grudgingly returned salutes. Very few people met her eyes, it was not safe to attract her attention. She had to look up at most of them from her diminutive height, another thing that had always bothered her, another shortcoming she had been forced to make up for.
“Good morning, Admiral,” said the Chief who was her secretary, giving her a smile that seemed to be pasted on in the best professional manner.
“What’s good about it?” grumbled Beata under her breath as she walked up to her door and put her thumb on the locking mechanism that read both her print and the DNA of her skin cells. A moment later she was behind her desk, calling up another day’s work, mostly rubber stamping the decisions of others. A message blinked on the edge of the display. She looked at it and the header expanded. It was one she had been waiting for, the answer to her latest request. She opened it quickly and started to read, her face dropping as she dove into the heart of the message.
“Denied again,” she screamed, slapping her hand on the desk. “Unwanted,” she screamed again. She put her face in her hands as she felt the tears start to roll down her cheeks. Jankovich had promised her that she would never again have a space command, and it seemed he was determined to follow through on that promise.
* * *
BOLTHOLE SPACE.
The ships had just finished their survey of the system, and now had every natural and manufactured object catalogued, along with their orbits. Ships in motion were more of a problem, since they could move onto almost random vectors, boosting when and where they would with nothing to lend predictive value. But everything in an orbit was found and its future position across a range of time predicted.
Moments after all the positions were predicted the plan was formulated and the orders went out. Whisker lasers, operating with minimal power, connected the command ship to the launch vessels. The orders were sent out with perfect timing, based on how far the launching ships were. As soon as they received their commands they started their own countdowns.
At the proper moment they launched, each ship sending out a one ton capsule that was more of a nanofactory that anything else, able to configure themselves on the fly according to what they found at the end of their flight. The cylinders were at the ambient temperature of space, with skins that absorbed all radiation that impacted them, transferred that radiation around to the other side of the cylinder, and sent it off in one hundred and eighty degrees from origin. The cylinders were as difficult to pick out against the backdrop of space as anything the humans had ever encountered.
Each was ejected through a magnetic accelerator at two thousand kilometers a second, point zero zero six light speed, well below their maximum, but predicted to get the packages to their targets with the least chance of detection. Two thousand kilometers a second still added up to one hundred and twenty thousand kilometers a minute, or seven million two hundred thousand kilometers an hour. In a day they would travel over one hundred and seventy-two million kilometers. In two weeks two and a half billion. In those two weeks they would arrive at their targets, slowing down on their built in grabber units at point five gravities for fifty-six hours. No one would know they were there until they started working at their tasks. And by then it would be too late.
* * *
NEW GAEA BASE.
The Exploration Command Forward Base was situated in a beautiful system about seven hundred light years outside of the Sector I Imperial Frontier. The manner in which the powers were laid out in this sector of the Sagittarius arm only allowed exploration in two directions within the Galactic disc, since the territory of other powers were a barrier at the other directions. One was back along the way the humans had originally come to this region, back toward the Ca’cadasans, and, except for a very limited region between the Ming and New Moscow, that area was forbidden for obvious reasons. Humankind had had no desire to run into the huge aliens again. That decision had been taken out of their hands as the big aliens had found them. They could also explore upwards and downwards from the Galactic disc. There were systems in both of those directions, pretty much out into intergalactic space until the h
alos of other Galaxies were encountered. But the density of systems decreased as the square of the distance. A thousand light years above the body of the disc, the density of systems was a tenth of what it was at the edge of the concentrations known as the arms. Another thousand light years out, it was a hundredth. Eventually, within four thousand light years, the distance between systems was multiple hundreds of light years. Some of these systems were still valuable to a power like the Empire, and a far planet had a wonderful night sky, with the huge form of the Milky Way taking up most of the sky at times.
The only other area open for exploration was along the Perseus arm. There was the normal concentration of stars as in any area of the disc. There were the normal proportion of living worlds, and intelligent species. But no vast Empires. The few star faring races they had discovered were small fry, either trapped in their home system, or colonizing a mere half dozen or less of nearby systems. The borders of the Empire were moving this way, slowly, as systems were consolidated and new frontier worlds colonized. There was no need to expand quickly. There were still more than enough worlds in the Empire. But someday they would need these worlds, and human curiosity must always be satisfied.
The command base was in orbit around a lovely class M world slightly larger than old Earth called New Gaea. It was at the early Paleocene stage of evolution, mammal like animals taking over the planet and exploding into every niche. The planet orbited around a G class star that had been named Gaea Star, at just the right distance to make most of the surface very comfortable indeed. There were a couple of small towns on the planet, research stations and rest and rehabilitation facilities. Someday the planet would be the subject of colonization, but not for many years.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 2: Bolthole Page 5