Crimson Worlds Refugees: The First Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  “Admiral Compton will want an estimate on when the facility will be operational.” Duke hated pressuring Davies. He knew the engineer’s progress to date had been nothing short of exceptional, especially since he was working with far less than optimal equipment and supplies. But the rest of the fleet was at a virtual standstill without the tritium Davies’ people were here to refine. And staring at the warp gate scanners and hoping no enemy ships came pouring through was hardly a strategy Compton could be expected to embrace.

  “We’ve got the platform up and operating, but we’ve just started on the refining and purification units. I’d say three days, possibly four. As long as we don’t have any more setbacks.” The job had been an enormous one. Davies’ people had been compelled to build an anti-grav platform, a huge structure held aloft by a bank of heavy thrusters. Without the platform, the immense gravity of the planet would have pulled the entire construction deeper into the atmosphere, until the rapidly increasing pressure crushed it all.

  “Understood, Commander.” Duke could tell the engineer was tense. Davies was one of the best, and he knew what was riding on his team’s efforts. Indeed, his own fate, and that of his crews, was inextricably tied to the survival of the fleet. Yelling and constantly reminding him of the urgency was pointless. And he suspected Davies blamed himself for the two members of his crew who had slipped off the edge of the platform as well. Duke didn’t imagine falling until the pressure crushed you like a grape was a pleasant way to die.

  “I will pass your report on to Admiral Compton, Commander.”

  * * *

  “Entering warp gate in ten seconds, Captain.”

  The tactical officer’s announcement was unnecessary. Captain Hans Steiner was well aware his ship was about to enter the warp gate. Vanir was the lead vessel of the three John Duke had assigned to explore the system they already knew would be dubbed X20. The naming convention was boring, but it was easy too, and the last thing anyone in the fleet had time for was thinking up names for new stars and planets.

  “Stay on the scanners, Lieutenant. I’ll want a reading as soon as possible.” Steiner knew his own order was relatively pointless too. The warp gate would scramble his ship’s systems, and his crew had very little control over how long it took for things to come back online. A razor sharp team could shave a few seconds, maybe. But then again, in a truly dire situation, that could be the difference between victory and defeat. Life and death.

  “Yes, sir. Entering warp gate…now.”

  Steiner felt the strange feeling he always did in a transit, a bit of mild nausea and a flush of heat. Then he saw the stars reappear on the forward screen. A few seconds later, the main power came back on, and the ship’s systems began rebooting.

  Vanir’s captain sat quietly, waiting along with his crew for their instruments to come back to life. It always felt odd just after a transit, that minute or two when a ship was blind, helpless. Steiner realized there was nothing he could do but wait for the systems to reboot. If there were enemy ships waiting for his tiny flotilla, scanners wouldn’t do his people much good. His three ships were there to scout, not to fight. And if they ran into the enemy, their failure to return on schedule would deliver a clear message to Admiral Compton and the fleet.

  “Scanners coming up now, sir.” The tactical officer was leaning over the scope, waiting for the first readings. “Raw data coming in now, sir. The AI’s online again and crunching on it.” The officer paused, reading the information as he got it. “Star classification B3 to B4. Six planets, two in possible habitable zone. Two asteroid belts, one between planets two and three, and the other at the edge of the outer system.”

  Steiner listened quietly. They were there to scout thoroughly, and scans on the star and its planets were important. But he knew everyone on Vanir, and on Woden and Tyr as well, was interested in one bit of data first and foremost. Were there First Imperium ships waiting in X20?

  “Targeted sweeps, Lieutenant. Focus on particle trails…any signs of recent ship movement.” Steiner knew he didn’t have to remind his people, but he did it anyway. It was easier than sitting silently, feeling extraneous.

  “No signs of any ships, Captain. No drive emissions, no unnatural energy readings.” A pause then: “We’re getting indications of multiple warp gates, Captain. At least five. But still no sign of enemy activity.”

  Steiner sighed softly. The most dangerous part of scouting was the first few minutes, when his ships were blind and paralyzed. Now, at least, they were past that. That didn’t mean there was no danger waiting for them in X20. But their chances of surviving the scouting run had just increased dramatically.

  “Set a course for the third planet, Lieutenant. A system with two habitable planets is prime real estate. Let’s see if anyone’s been here before us.”

  * * *

  “Move your asses!” Jerrold Davies clung to one of the large girders, watching as a crew installed the heavy conduits connecting the main refining unit to the portable reactor. The thick insulated cables were a tenuous way to transmit the nuclear plant’s output, but it was all he had right now. He’d cut his way through half the safeguards in the book, but he’d gotten the thing done—almost done, at least—in less time than anyone had thought possible. Though a proper inspection would have turned up a hundred violations of normal procedures.

  Back home a job this ramshackle would gotten you busted down to the ranks, and here it’s as likely to make you a hero. There’s just no time to go by the book when you’re being chased by homicidal robots…

  The power unit would be self-sustaining once the refinery began producing tritium, using a portion of its own output to sustain the nuclear reaction. But for now there were huge canisters piled next to it, fuel taken from the fleet’s increasingly parlous supply. The gas was highly concentrated, and the containers were dangerous to handle. He’d be a lot happier when he could get them off the platform.

  As soon as the conduits were in place, his people would do a last series of checks and fire up the reactor. If all went well, they would have an hour to do a few final tests before they activated everything and began extracting tritium from the atmosphere.

  He watched his people climbing all over the platform, checking hastily assembled parts and running what few diagnostic tests time allowed. Davies had set the deadline—the refinery would commence operation at 4pm fleet time. That left less than two hours to get things finished. And working in the strange environment of the gas giant’s atmosphere wasn’t doing anything to speed things along. The gravity wasn’t too bad this high up—about 1.3g. But the ammonia clouds were a problem. Every time one blew across the platform, visibility plunged.

  The radiation was also a worry. The output from the planet’s magnetic field would have been fatal to an unprotected man in less than a minute. His people’s suits shielded them, at least partially, but he still had everyone maxed out on anti-rad meds. Despite all the precautions, he knew they were all going to need full cleanses and cell rejuvs when they were done. At least none of his crews had come down with full blown radiation sickness. Yet.

  The refinery was a precarious structure, hurriedly constructed, its design based not on optimal specifications but on what the fleet had available. It rocked back and forth dangerously in the planet’s powerful winds, and it drifted with the atmospheric currents. It had been difficult enough to secure basic thrusters to keep the thing up, but adding stabilizers and positioning jets to keep it steady had been out of the question. They’d picked the calmest spot they could find, away from the severe storms elsewhere in the atmosphere, and that would have to do. But calm was a relative term, and his crews faced a rough ride until the operation was complete and the facility closed up shop. Davies had everyone on safety lines, but he’d still had four fatalities since work had begun.

  Normally, they’d have built an enclosed control room and installed a permanent reactor with proper safeguards. But time was more important than safety right now, and Davies was
well aware that an enemy force could appear at any time. If that happened now, the fleet was as good as destroyed. The only thing that would change that prognosis was fuel, and every minute his people wasted was another sixty seconds the fleet sat nearly defenseless.

  He moved slowly across the open deck, taking one last look at the three large intake fans. The refinery was a simple operation. Once activated, it would take in vast quantities of gas from the atmosphere and separate out the tritium and helium-3, both of which were vital to operating the fleet’s reactors. Helium-3 was relatively easy to find in the atmospheres of gas giants, but a planet with a good supply of both isotopes was rare. Davies knew they were fortunate to have found one so quickly, and he intended to make sure his people did their jobs to the highest standard. There were 225 ships to fuel. That was a lot of tritium and helium-3, and not a lot of time to do it. The warriors had gotten them all out of X2, but now it was the engineers’ turn. And Jerrold Davis wasn’t about to let Admiral Compton down.

  * * *

  “No energy readings, no sign of any activity. It’s the same as in X18, sir.”

  Steiner looked over toward the tactical officer and nodded. “Massive cities on both worlds…nothing but dead ruins. Untouched for millennia. It’s an amazing thing to see…” His voice was distracted, thoughtful. He tended to think of the First Imperium as monsters, enemies bent on destroying all of mankind. And that was true, at least of the remnants of the ancient civilization, the machines it had left behind.

  But what of those who lived in these cities? Were they like us? Did they live, love, feel happiness…and pain? Would they have been our enemies? Or would they have sought peace and friendship?

  There was no way to know the answers, and Steiner pushed the thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time or the place. Still, he felt frustrated. He wanted to go down to the surface, to walk through those haunted ruins, to know more about the enigmatic race that had left so deadly a legacy. Back in human space, the fighting against the First Imperium had focused on robotic legions and computer-controlled warships. But now they were moving deeper into that ancient domain, and the planets they were passing had once been home to millions of living beings…and from the look of the ruins, they hadn’t been much different than humans.

  But they were exploring the galaxy when men’s ancestors were hunting with sharp sticks. What have they left behind, other than their mechanical servants? What knowledge is on these worlds, what science and technology that could teach us?

  “Bring us between planets two and three, and then plot a course for the outer system.” Steiner knew he didn’t have time to stop, and certainly not to follow his urge and land on one of these worlds—but he could take a closer look as his ships went by. “All scanners on full. Let’s get what data we can about these planets.”

  “Scanners on full, sir. We should be…” The tactical officer’s voice changed, his cool, professional tone replaced immediately by cold dread. “Captain, we’re picking up something in orbit around planet three, just coming around.” There was a short pause, and then the officer turned toward Steiner, his face white as a sheet. “It’s a Colossus, sir.”

  Steiner felt the words hit him like a sledgehammer. The Colossus was the newest enemy ship type, one that hadn’t been encountered before the battles in X2. It was an enormous vessel, fifty time the mass of any ship mankind had ever constructed.

  “Red alert,” Steiner snapped. “Let’s get everyone into the tanks. We’ve got to make a run for it. One of us has to get back and warn the fleet about…” His words trailed off as he stared down at his screen, watching the scanning data flowing in. It was indeed a First Imperium Colossus, a monster almost nineteen kilometers long, bristling with weapons. But it was also dead. Unmoving, cold. No detectable energy readings at all.

  “Cancel that red alert…bring us to condition yellow.” Steiner was staring down at the screen, as the data was confirmed. Whatever condition the enemy ship was in, it was completely shut down.

  “Take us closer. Three gees thrust. I want a visual. Tyr and Woden are to pull back toward the warp gate. If this is some sort of trap, they are to get back to X18 and report in full.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Steiner listened as the tactical officer relayed his commands. A few seconds later he felt the force of acceleration slam into him. Vanir was about to get a close up look at the biggest First Imperium ship mankind had yet encountered. Steiner had taken the necessary precautions just in case, but he didn’t think it was a trap. The First Imperium forces didn’t think that way, at least they never had before. If this ship was active, it would already be firing at his tiny vessel.

  “Bring us in slow,” Steiner said.

  He had seen many wrecked enemy ships during the war, but the long distance scanning data didn’t suggest any significant damage. Other than the lack of energy output, the vessel seemed completely intact. He had a feeling his people had stumbled on something intriguing…but that was only intuition. And if he was wrong, if that monster came to life, it wouldn’t take more than one shot to blown Vanir to atoms.

  * * *

  “It’s working, sir! Everything is running perfectly, within 2% of optimum across the board.”

  “So it appears, Lieutenant,” Davies replied. “Let’s stay sharp and make sure it stays that way.”

  Davies was standing in the center of the platform, his magnetic boots giving him a better footing as the platform swayed with the atmospheric currents. He was just far enough back from the huge intake vents to avoid behind sucked in himself. The refinery wasn’t going to win any awards for elegance or style, but the haphazard-looking setup was doing just what it was designed to do. And that was enough for Jerrold Davies.

  It was loud, almost painful, even with the heavy insulation of his helmet. He suspected an unsuited man on the platform would go deaf almost immediately, though that was the definition of an academic argument. Anyone caught out there without protection would be killed by half a dozen things even more quickly. Davies wasn’t sure what would do the job first—cold, low pressure, radiation, suffocation, atmospheric toxicity—but he was sure it would be unpleasant, and he’d ordered his people to check and doublecheck their survival gear every time they came back on shift.

  He looked up at the large shuttle hovering alongside the platform. Its thrusters and positioning jets were firing, its pilot working to keep it stable next to the refinery as its onboard tanks filled with the condensed gases being pumped out of Davies’ creation. It was a rough system, one whose crudeness would slow the refueling process. But the fleet had no large tankers. The capital ships and cruisers couldn’t maneuver this deep into the atmosphere, and there wasn’t time to build a large conduit reaching into orbit. So there was nothing to do but ferry the precious fuel one shuttle full at a time.

  We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose any ships, Davies thought. Or if one of these shuttles doesn’t crash into the refinery. Navigating in the gas giant’s atmosphere, through the turbulent winds and unpredictable clouds of ammonia, took serious piloting skills, and a single mistake could easily prove fatal.

  Still, despite the dangers and the deficiencies of the setup, it was working well, pumping out fresh tritium and helium-3 and slowly refilling the fleet’s dwindling supply. It had taken a week to build the refinery, and it had been an amazing feat under the circumstances. Admiral Compton himself had sent his heartfelt congratulations. But now it would take another two weeks at least to top off the ships of the fleet. And Davies knew he had to keep his people razor sharp that entire time. All it would take was one engineer or pilot to become careless, and people would die. And if the refinery was damaged and needed to shut down, the fleet would be stuck here even longer. He didn’t doubt they were being pursued, that the enemy was searching for them. And every extra day spent in X18 increased the chances they would be found…and destroyed.

  The noise backed off suddenly, as the refinery ceased pumping. Davies could see the shuttle�
��s crew climbing out onto the hull, moving to unfasten the conduits. Another full tank, he thought as he looked up and saw a small glint of light in the distance, the next shuttle beginning its approach.

  He hadn’t calculated how many shuttles were required to fuel the fleet, but he knew it would take twelve or fifteen at least to fill the tanks of one of the Alliance Yorktowns. They were the biggest ships in the fleet, but the other battleships would still need eight or ten. Then there were cruisers, destroyers, frigates, freighters, attack ships—it would take hundreds of round trips to fully replenish the tanks of the fleet.

  And I will be right here, monitoring every single one of them. Davies knew he’d be dangerously strung out on stims long before the job was done, but he also knew there was no option. He didn’t trust anyone else to be careful enough, to stand there and remain vigilant…and ensure his ramshackle creation held up and did the job.

  * * *

  The huge ship filled the viewscreen, blocking out the planet below and the stars in the distance. Steiner had known its exact dimensions. The fleet had encountered its like in X2, though the behemoths had not yet engaged when the Alliance fleet escaped. But seeing numbers on a screen and actually looking at something looming before you were different things. He tried to imagine the power of a race that could build such things, and he felt a wave of despair, of hopelessness. How can we hope to defeat them? Or even survive their wrath?

  He fought back against the dark thoughts, reminding himself that mankind hadn’t done too badly fighting the First Imperium. But he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. The encounter in X2 had proven that humanity’s victories had been won against a small tithe of the enemy’s true strength. Indeed, if the forces that had been arrayed in X2 ever reached human space, man’s extinction was assured. Still, he found pride in the earlier victories helped sustain his own courage. On one level he knew he was fooling himself, but it worked nevertheless. After a fashion.