Destroyer (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 3)

by Joshua Dalzelle

  "I feel at this juncture you will need to be very specific as to what you want me to do, sir," Pitt said. He knew that Jackson's reputation as a loose cannon was largely undeserved, but it was how he was viewed nonetheless. Was the President actually asking him to try and goad Wolfe into disobeying orders?

  "Nothing particularly," Nelson said. Pitt could have sworn the look that flashed across the President's face was one of … disappointment? "We were just speaking of hypotheticals, Admiral. While this face-to-face has been enjoyable, I'm afraid my schedule is quite stuffed today."

  "With your permission, sir." Pitt stood, knowing a dismissal when he heard one.

  "Of course, Admiral." Nelson also stood and offered his hand again. "A pleasure to meet you."

  The bizarre meeting left Pitt shaken as he walked down the corridor away from the office. It seemed to have been a clumsy, transparent attempt at getting Pitt to go against the Fleet Operations Committee by a Commander in Chief that had a whiff of desperation about him. What the hell was going on? Why weren't they going after this last Darshik element with everything they had? He pulled his comlink and hit the address for his aide.

  "Please set up a meeting for me with a Mr. Aston Lynch," Pitt said. "He's an aide to the President. Tell him that it's critical and needs to be at his earliest convenience."

  He wasn’t looking forward to begging for information out of the CIS spook, but he couldn't think of anyone else that would be able to connect the dots for him.

  12

  Danilo Jovanović paced the deck, pulling at his ears and trying in vain to calm himself. Why was Captain Wolfe hand-delivering data for the Cube to process? Was he really just in the area or was it something else? Was he being relieved from a position that he was woefully unqualified for? While it was completely unlikely they'd dispatch a destroyer all the way from New Sierra to remove a low-level administrator from a highly classified research project, his fears persisted.

  It wasn't so much the loss of pay and prestige as it was the loss of purpose. Danilo had wanted to enter Starfleet from early childhood, but back then there was no great war with an alien species and they were very selective about whom they took. The fact that he had an extremely rare condition requiring him to have surgery to correct his vision had medically disqualified him. By the time the Phage came, he was too old to enlist.

  Blind chance, so to speak, had caused him to be there when a decommissioned Vruahn device that had once been a stasis chamber awoke and revealed that its AI interface had developed into full sentience. As the first person it talked to, CENTCOM decided it would be easier to assign him to the project than let him run around loose with the knowledge that Starfleet was experimenting with alien technology that had once housed a piece of a Phage Super Alpha, something that was outlawed after the war. Now Danilo was in a place that, while not serving aboard a great warship, allowed him to make a difference and contribute.

  "We have hard dock, cycling the airlock," one of the civilian security personnel said from the control panel. The round hatch popped inward and then swung ponderously aside, the antique actuators whining as they moved the heavy chunk of alloy aside.

  "Administrator Jovanović, it's good to see you," Jackson Wolfe said warmly as he walked through the hatchway and extended his hand. Project Prometheus was not housed in a purpose-built orbital or deep space platform like most research projects. It was actually on a fully functional Raptor-class destroyer, the last of its kind. The TCS Pontiac had already been decommissioned, but Wolfe, likely because of a combination of nostalgia and opportunity, had repurposed the old ship as a high-mobility lab. He'd argued that if they needed to evacuate the Cube quickly, having a warp-capable starship might come in handy.

  "And you as well, Captain," Danilo said with a smile. "While we certainly miss you around here, it's good to see you in that uniform again, sir."

  "Wish I was just here for a social call, Danilo," Jackson said. "I assume you received my message … are we able to access the Cube for the time it will take for it to process this?" He held up a red courier card in his hand.

  "I've cleared its schedule, Captain," Danilo said. "I may have made a mistake and warned it you were coming and it's been … exuberant … for lack of a better word."

  "Thanks for the warning," Jackson said sourly. For reasons unknown, the Cube had taken a special liking to him, often to the point that it would pout and go silent for days at a time if he'd even just skipped a morning of coming down to the cargo hold and talking to it.

  "We'll go ahead and do this by the book and you can escort me down there. Maybe if this looks like an official visit it—"

  "Captain, priority message coming in from the Nemesis," Sergeant Barton interrupted, walking forward with a secure comlink.

  "That device isn't allowed in here!" the security contractor said, moving forward to take it before Barton stepped in his way.

  "Wolfe," Jackson said. His face creased into a frown. "You're sure about this, Commander? Right … I'm on the way back now."

  "Sir?" Barton asked.

  "Get back in there and tell the pilot we're leaving. Now!" Jackson barked. "Danilo, we have reason to believe this ship might be at risk of imminent attack. The Nemesis just witnessed a transition flash that's consistent with a known enemy vessel that's been attacking research facilities throughout Terran space."

  "Understood, sir," Danilo said before pulling his own comlink. "Captain Aumann, please sound a general alert … I'm on my way to the bridge now."

  "We'll keep you in the look on the situation," Jackson said.

  "Good luck, sir," Danilo said.

  "You too," Jackson said. "Do not allow the Cube to fall into enemy hands under any circumstances."

  "Understood."

  "Report!"

  "It was recorded out near the Kirin jump point, sir," Lieutenant Hori said.

  "It must have been in the Kirin System the entire time we were and then transitioned out after we left," Chambliss said.

  "We were at full power coming to Arcadia," Jackson said with a shake of his head. "I think it's more likely it was already coming here for Project Prometheus and we overtook it."

  The Nemesis had already been at general quarters by the time Jackson's shuttle made it back to the ship and docked. CIC was extrapolating likely courses to the Pontiac based on the location of the transition flash and the assumed performance of the Specter's new ship. Chambliss hadn't yet alerted Arcadia's orbital control authority nor the Starfleet depot that was orbiting the planet. Jackson considered the risk to both and thought that maybe there was an opportunity not to be wasted if the Specter thought he'd gotten into the system undetected.

  Since they had been approaching such a highly classified location, Jackson had already ordered stringent emission security protocols: no beacons and no active radar. If luck was with them, the Specter might have the location of the Pontiac but have no idea a Valkyrie-class destroyer was lurking in the area.

  "Tactical, I think that the enemy ship will most likely skirt the boundary of the system on his way here rather than try a direct route given all the Fleet traffic," Jackson said. "Let's focus the passives out along that projected course and see if we get lucky."

  "Aye, sir," Accari said. Jackson looked at the young lieutenant commander for a moment, realizing that this would be his first taste of combat while being the one fighting the ship. He had been an outstanding navigation specialist, and an exceptional OPS officer, but his real test would be how he handled operating the destroyer's offensive capability in the face of such an impressive foe.

  Jackson had pushed to send Accari to Starfleet's preeminent tactical training program at the Yamato War College the instant he confirmed that CENTCOM was approving the transfer from Captain Wright's ship. At the time it had been an altruistic gesture. Very rarely were commands given to officers that served as OPS or com officers; they usually went to tactical officers or department heads from CIC or Flight OPS. What he hadn't realized at the ti
me was that CENTCOM wasn't sending any other seasoned tactical officers along with the Nemesis … the other two aboard had even less real-world experience on a bridge during combat operations than the young lieutenant commander.

  Still, Accari looked calm and confident … but so had Michael Barrett right before he froze up and almost let a Phage Super Alpha blow the Blue Jacket right out from under them.

  "I have CIC putting two of the computers on analyzing star blinks, sir," Accari went on. "Most will be false positives, but we might get lucky and see this guy moving in front of a few stars and get a general course and speed."

  "Excellent idea, Tactical," Commander Chambliss said. "Coms! Have your backshop closely monitoring all the chatter in the system as well … someone may see something strange and report it to orbital control."

  "Aye, sir," Makers said.

  An icy hand gripped Jackson's heart as he realized that down on Arcadia, the system’s only habitable planet, were his wife and children. For the first time since he'd been fighting alien incursions into Terran space his loved ones were directly in the line of fire. He hadn't realized what a distraction it must have been for those on his crews that had been fighting off the Phage in their home systems or watching as Darshik ships struck deep into Federation territory.

  "What sort of performance envelope is intel giving this new ship?" Jackson asked of nobody in particular.

  "Unfortunately not much, sir," Accari answered first. "The crew from the downed yacht provided us with their entire sensor log and Lieutenant Commander Hawkins had his people work up a profile, but there just wasn't enough data to say with any certainty what she might be capable of."

  "Sir, there is a risk to the civilian population we might be overlooking," Chambliss said softly. "That ship no doubt can perform intrasystem warp hops like its predecessors … should we reconsider—"

  "I've thought this through carefully, XO," Jackson said flatly. "I'm confident enough in the Specter's ultimate target that I'm willing to take the risk even with my family on the surface."

  "Yes, sir."

  The Nemesis had been holding station fifty thousand kilometers off the Pontiac's port flank while Jackson had been over there; now he was letting her drift further away as the older destroyer fired her thrusters periodically to maintain her position relative to the Arcadia System's navigation beacons. The RDS on the Valkyrie-class produced zero emissions and the power cables to the field generators were so well-shielded that the Specter would have to pass very close to detect them at all unless it wanted to risk switching over to active sensors.

  Given what he knew about the Darshik ability to "hop" within a system, Jackson kept first watch on duty and had them rotating out to the wardroom to stretch and caffeinate themselves. He couldn't afford not to have his best people at their stations when the enemy made an appearance. The other issue he was fighting was the distance. If they detected a departure transition flash from an incoming hop, it would already be too late: The ship would arrive before the light from its departure did.

  "Pontiac is hailing us with short-range laser, sir," Lieutenant Makers said. "Captain Aumann would like to know if we have an update or any special instructions for them."

  "Tell him we're still trying to track the enemy ship," Jackson said. "And let's go ahead and have them bring their powerplant to full power and get the main engines primed. That will give them something to do and we may need the Pontiac mobile soon anyway."

  "Aye, sir."

  Another four hours passed uneventfully before there was a low-priority alert at Tactical. Jackson waited impatiently while Accari talked with CIC and adjusted his display.

  "Sir, the Pontiac is putting out a lot of thermal energy now that her mains are coming up," he said, not turning to look back. "CIC says the leakage on engines one and four are beyond operational tolerances for a Raptor-class ship."

  "That ship is nearly seventy-five years old, Lieutenant Commander," Jackson said. "When you're that old you're going to leak a little bit too. Tell CIC it's nothing to worry about regarding the safety of the Pontiac, but we probably just lit a signal fire for the ship that's out there hunting—." He trailed off, his lips pursed.

  "Sir?"

  "Helm! Put our bow on the Pontiac," Jackson ordered. "Tactical, expect to engage the enemy within the next … forty minutes. You're authorized to call out course corrections directly."

  "Coming about, aye!" the helmswoman said, flicking the controls deftly so that the Nemesis spun quickly to face the older ship and provide a minimal profile for the enemy. Destroyers were designed to fight head-on where they were armed, heavily armored, and harder to hit. The worst position to be in was exposing a flank or the dorsal surface.

  "You think he'll hop as soon as he sees the thermal plume from the engine startup?" Chambliss asked.

  "I know so," Jackson said confidently. "He won't have any choice. As far as he knows, the Pontiac could be firing engines and moving to transition out of the system. If he wants the Cube, he'll have to commit."

  "How the hell could he have learned about Project Prometheus?" the XO muttered to himself. "I didn't even know about it until yesterday."

  Jackson didn't answer, but he had his own theory on how the Darshik was finding all of CENTCOM's most guarded secrets: Someone within the Federation was working with the enemy. While that seemed impossible on its face, they now knew that the Ushin and Darshik were connected and in contact. The Ushin were also in contact with the United Terran Federation's diplomatic corps. It seemed pretty obvious that the Darshik had human collaborators feeding them intel that was guarded at the highest levels.

  "Transition flash!" Accari called out. "Three hundred kilometers, dead ahead!"

  "Active radar!" Jackson barked. "Bracket that ship and get me a firing solution!"

  The tactical radar array came online almost instantaneously and painted the Darshik warship. At such close range they had a strong return and could see it was indeed a match for the ship that had attacked the Tsuyo orbital habitat.

  "Lock on Shrikes, four missiles," Jackson said. "Let's end this quick."

  "Target is locked, firing solution loaded into the Shrikes," Accari said. "We need to clear the Pontiac; the hard-coded safeties won't let us fire past her at this range."

  "Helm! You're clear to free-fly the Nemesis and get us underneath the Pontiac," Jackson said.

  "Aye aye, sir!" the helmswoman said with enthusiasm, grabbing the manual flight controls and pushing the throttle up.

  "Coms, tell the Pontiac to get underway and clear the area," Chambliss said. "Have them bear to port and try to get behind us."

  "Specter is moving—fast!" Accari shouted. "He's going for the Pontiac."

  "Helm!"

  "Coming about to intercept," the helmswoman said. The destroyer swung to port under hard acceleration to keep their bow on the enemy ship that had veered off to try and get the Pontiac within weapons range. Their preferred ship-to-ship weapon was the plasma lance, but that was severely range-limited. It gave Jackson the advantage since all he had to do was clear the friendly ship and let his Shrike volley do the rest.

  "We're clear to fire, sir," Accari said.

  "Fire!"

  "Missiles one through four away, birds tracking clean!"

  "Captain! The enemy ship has fired two missiles at the Pontiac," Lieutenant Hori said.

  "Coms! Let them know they have incoming and go evasive!" Jackson ordered. "Damnit! They have no countermeasures aboard. Tactical, can we intercept?"

  "Helm, come about to port and give me full power," Accari said. "Sending missile tracks to your display, put us right behind them." The Nemesis surged and raced after the missiles that were tracking for the helpless Pontiac. The older ship was at full burn, her four plasma engines lighting up the tactical display, but it seemed like she was barely crawling away from the engagement.

  "Three degrees port," Accari ordered. On the main display they could see they were converging on the missiles but were
also getting extremely close to the fleeing Pontiac. Jackson let his tactical officer work to intercept the two missiles and kept his gaze riveted on the icon of the enemy ship. It had turned away from the area and was moving out at a leisurely pace that wouldn't outrun the Shrikes. What game was he playing?

  "Firing forward laser batteries, full spread," Accari said.

  "One missile destroyed!" Hori exclaimed.

  "Damnit! The last one is getting through," Accari cursed. "It's too close to risk another shot, sir."

  "Coms, tell the Pontiac they have one incoming," Jackson said. "Helm, come about to pursue the enemy ship, all ahead flank."

  "Coming about, all engines ahead flank, aye!"

  "Missile has impacted the Pontiac on the lower aft quadrant, starboard flank," Hori said.

  "That's a heavily armored area," Jackson said to Chambliss as a graphic of the impact zone came up on the main display. "But it's near the powerplant. Hopefully nobody was hurt."

  "Pontiac is reporting no casualties, but they've lost propulsion, Captain," Makers said. "Captain Aumann is asking for orders."

  "Tell him to heave to and stand by for assistance from us," Jackson said. "He is not to call for help from Arcadia unless the situation becomes critical."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Shrike impacts in sixty seconds," Accari said. "The dumb bastard is just sitting there."

  The bridge held its collective breath as the icons for missiles converged on the Specter … and flew right past it.

  "What?!" Commander Chambliss came out of his seat.

  "Tactical?" Jackson asked calmly.

  "Working on it, sir," Accari said. "Next volley is loaded in the tubes and ready to go."

  "Maintain pursuit," Jackson said. He could see the Nemesis was rapidly gaining on the fleeing Darshik ship, and he'd rather let his missiles fly at a much closer range given the failure of the last volley. He knew in his gut something was wrong. Four missiles don't fail at the exact same time in the exact same way unless they weren't properly armed, and Accari simply did not make those types of mistakes.