by Isaac Hooke
“I can’t believe you liked the food in mess hall three better than Wardroom Five.” Robert downed a forkful of garlic mashed potatoes.
“Don’t listen to him,” Stanley said. “He’s trying to make it sound like the food was exquisite in Wardroom Five. It wasn’t. Especially in the end, when our supplies were running low. I tell you, there’s only so many protein pancakes and fried eggs a man can take.”
“Was the hydroponics center offline or something?” Jonathan asked.
“No,” Robert said. “Stanley likes to exaggerate, as you know. We had fresh vegetables everyday. And meat.”
“Though I guess now that you’re back, Jonathan,” Stanley continued as if Robert hadn’t spoken. “I can request a transfer off this trash bucket. Maybe I’ll get assigned to one of the new Exeter-class supercarriers.”
Jonathan cocked an eyebrow. “I can write you a transfer request whenever you want.”
“Maybe I should wait until the personnel department issues a transfer,” Stanley said. “Looks better that way. You never know, maybe I’ll get one once we’ve reestablished communications with NAVCENT.”
“Trust me, it doesn’t matter if I write you one,” Jonathan said. “Or if the personnel department does. If you really want off this trash bucket, as you call it, either because of issues related to my command style, or otherwise...”
Stanley smiled. “Nah. I was being sarcastic. I’ve made so many changes to her, I don’t think I could bear to part with her. She’s my baby now. And I’ll be damned if I leave her before I’m rightly ready. And I have no issues with your command style whatsoever. I was merely joking around. My apologies if you took offense, skipper.”
Stanley was in one of his strange moods, and Jonathan thought it best if he changed the subject.
“Speaking of babies...” Jonathan glanced at Bridgette. “How’s Eugene?”
The commander’s wife finished chewing and swallowing a mouthful of cardamom-glazed carrot slices. “Oh, he’s a regular handful. I can’t wait until he’s a little older.”
“You’re not leaving him in the care of the nursery robots?”
“Robert arranged private quarters for us,” Bridgette said. “I was hoping that we could continue that arrangement.”
Jonathan frowned. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.” He glanced at Robert, who had adopted a sudden fascination with the contents of his own plate. “Private familial quarters are highly irregular, and go against procedure.”
“I was hoping to raise my child differently than how I was raised,” Bridgette said. “With love, and affection. Not by robots.”
“How did you procure these ‘private’ quarters, Robert?” Jonathan said.
“It’s a former shared berthing area,” Robert said.
“And what happened to those who used to sleep there? Where are they now?”
“We’ve lost so many of our crew,” Robert said. “That even though we’re harboring survivors of other task group ships, I was able to transfer enough people to other berthing areas.”
Jonathan was about to chew out his first officer, but then sighed. “I’ll allow it for the time being, at least until we get more crew members. But if anyone protests, I’ll have to return you to a shared arrangement. I can’t be seen as picking favorites.”
“Understood, sir,” Robert said.
They ate their duck quietly for several minutes, the sound of utensils clacking against plates filling the silence.
“Eugene is going to be an important person in the years to come, you know,” Bridgette announced.
“Maybe he’ll be commander in chief?” Jonathan couldn’t help the amusement in his voice—it was hard to take a baby’s future very seriously when it crawled around in diapers all day.
“Maybe,” Bridgette replied somberly. “Or someone of equal importance. A United Systems ambassador, or a great admiral.”
“Everyone thinks the world of their babies,” Robert said. “It’s just human nature. So you’ll have to excuse my wife if she feels a bit proud of our child.”
“No Robert,” Bridgette said. “No one needs to excuse me. I’m not saying he’s going to be important, just because I’m proud. I know our son is going to do great things someday. I know.” She said it with such conviction that Jonathan almost believed her.
The captain finished the duck and concentrated on his carrots. He completed the latest mouthful, then dabbed his lips with his cloth napkin to speak. “Commander. Do you remember, before I left, I ordered you to perform a sweep of the Callaway and the surviving ships of Task Group 72.5?” When the commander seemed puzzled, Jonathan added: “For the Phant?”
“Ah yes,” Robert said. “We swept all of our ships. We read up on all the protocols for detection of the incorporeal aliens, and implemented them to a T. But we found nothing. It couldn’t have escaped the destruction of the prison ship T300.”
Jonathan nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. But Barrick didn’t seem convinced.”
“We can do another full sweep, if you like?” Robert said.
Jonathan nodded. “I’d feel better if we did another one actually, yes.”
nineteen
The new sweeps turned up nothing. If there had been a Phant stowed somewhere aboard the Callaway or the other task group vessels, it was gone now.
After Maxwell informed him of the news, Jonathan scratched his chin. “We’ve performed multiple sweeps now aboard the Callaway and every surviving ship of Task Group 72.5?”
“We have,” the Callaway’s AI agreed. “Sweeps performed both here and in the Elder galaxy.”
“And we’ve not found a thing.”
“No, Captain,” Maxwell said.
“Isn’t it possible that a Phant of its caliber, a being who has lived among us for so long, has developed the ability to circumvent some of our detection protocols?” Jonathan asked. “Who can say how many vessels it lurked aboard before reaching the Selene, and finally the prison ship, after all?”
“That is a very good point, Captain,” Maxwell said. Did the AI sound cautious? Or was it just Jonathan’s imagination?
“You’d tell me if you ever detected any anomalous readings aboard the Callaway, no matter how slight, wouldn’t you?” the captain asked.
“I certainly would....” the AI replied.
Jonathan smiled briefly. “Thank you, Maxwell.”
TASK GROUP 72.5 joined a quarter of the vessels from Battle Group 35.1 at a nearby moon, which they mined to restock their mortar and mag-rail slug supplies. The Dammerung, undergoing repairs, was towed a safe distance away, and placed in orbit around the gas giant Achilles with a destroyer escort. Three harvesters gathered geronium and propellant from the same giant, and distributed them throughout the fleet.
2-Vega was re-mined and the guard of ten destroyers put into place. The Talon succeeded in programming two of its fighter escorts to act as comm node equivalents, and the craft passed in and out of 2-Vega and 3-Vega throughout the standard day, employing precise deceleration to ensure the fighters only appeared in the adjacent systems for short, microsecond-level intervals, and thereby keeping the fleet apprised of enemy activity.
The system beyond 2-Vega, which the fleet named Raakarr-1, appeared surprisingly empty. A few Raakarr comm node equivalents orbited either of the system’s Slipstreams; a countermeasure device waited near the closer wormhole to fire a concentrated particle beam at anything that showed up for longer than a few milliseconds. But other than those craft, 2-Vega seemed deserted. Valor also claimed there should have been a small military base on the third planet, but it looked like the Elk faction had abandoned it. Perhaps because of the scavenger ship Robert had reported.
Since there was no threat of imminent attack, the Builder returned to 2-Vega and commenced construction of the outgoing Gate once more.
After learning about the probes waiting on the other side of 2-Vega, Jonathan tapped in Barrick.
“You mentioned earlier that if you sent the
alien fighters through a Slipstream for too long the Talon would lose its link to them,” Jonathan said. “Can we send some of our alien fighters through to eliminate those waiting devices, with instructions to return immediately afterward so that you can re-link?”
“Yes, we can,” Barrick replied. “But Valor also tells me that might be a waste.”
“A waste? How so?”
“He says once the fleet passes through to the other side, the Talon can capture those probes, and then reprogram them to send any telemetry data we want.”
“What about the countermeasure device?” Jonathan asked.
“That one we’ll have to destroy.”
Jonathan informed Levieson of the situation, and the vice admiral tapped out to discuss the matter with the admiral. A few minutes later he called back: “The admiral has decided that capturing the probes for potential reprogramming is the best option.”
“So we have permission to send the Talon through?”
“Negative. The Talon is to hold off for now, until the Gate is completed. In the meantime, continue to monitor the systems beyond both 2-Vega and 3-Vega.”
The months passed. The repairs to the Callaway and most of the other ships in the fleet were completed. The starboard and port banks of Vipers aboard the cruiser were fully operational once again, as were all its engines.
The fleet held off two attacks, both from 3-Vega. The United System battle group had forewarning of each raid, thanks to the Zarafe scouts. In the first battle, eighteen enemy attacked; ten were destroyed and the remaining eight fled. The second assault came three months later, when forty-five ships raided from 3-Vega. None of the enemy fled, and fought until destroyed.
The combined human fleet was reduced by half because of those battles, from seventy-five to thirty-four. Jonathan felt that the surrounding planets could have been better employed strategically during the two offensives, but the admiral was a fan of the brute force school of combat apparently, and it showed in the number of casualties. The Talon attempted to contact the enemy during each raid, but always its comm requests were turned down. There were no further attacks during the remaining months it took to complete Contessa—the return Gate to Prius 3.
With that Gate complete, comm nodes were situated at Contessa, passing back and forth from Vega 951 to Prius 3, linking the fleet once more to the InterGalNet and reestablishing communications with NAVCENT.
Ford called a meeting of the captains a few hours after communications were restored.
“I updated NAVCENT on our status,” the admiral announced. “And a few minutes ago, I received a response on the priority channel. The mission is still a go. There are no new orders.”
“What about reinforcements?” Captain Rodriguez asked.
“The fleet has gathered a significant force in Prius 3. Seventy of those ships will join us in two weeks time. We’ll leave thirty here to hold Vega 951 and guard 3-Vega, while the remaining forty will proceed with us into Raakarr-1 as part of our incursion force, seventy-four strong. I know it has been a difficult six months for you all, and it will be another six at least until we arrive at our destination. Such is the nature of space deployments. You wait for months on end, and then the entire mission is decided in the span of a few hours. Be strong, my captains. Be vigilant.”
The two weeks passed and the reinforcements from Prius 3 arrived. As predicted, the Callaway and other members of Task Group 72.5 had to surrender their captured fighters to those reinforcements, who planned to dispatch them to NAVCENT scientists. The Talon had to give up a few of its active alien fighters for study, too, but Valor agreed only after the usual coercing. Also surrendered was the microbot sample Robert had collected from the Raakarr shipyard in the Elder galaxy.
The admiral divided the combined fleet as per the meeting, leaving thirty behind to hold Vega 951, while the seventy-plus incursion force proceeded toward 2-Vega. Outreach Gate was completed by then as well.
The Talon left its scout in place at 3-Vega and intended to remain in contact with it after arriving in Raakarr-1 by means of the modified fighter already in place at 2-Vega, which would continue traveling back and forth between Vega 951 and Raakarr-1. If any indications of an attack from 3-Vega were detected, and the Talon was close enough to the Slipstream, the alien ship would return to Vega 951 and use its on-board comm node to alert the human vessels of the coming incursion.
At Outreach Gate, the Talon sent the Callaway the latest telemetry data recorded by its scout of Raakarr-1. The fleet recorded the position of the countermeasure device waiting on the other side. The Renegade launched a nuke through the Gate; the alien scout entered the wormhole to capture the latest snapshot of the endpoint, and reported the autonomous cannon as destroyed. Other than the Raakarr comm node equivalents, there were still no other alien craft waiting in the system.
The United Systems vessels passed through the Gate in fours, giving the necessary clearance to the two Raakarr comm nodes that remained intact at the endpoint. The Callaway’s turn came, and while waiting for the remainder of Task Group 72.5 to arrive, Jonathan studied the layout of the new system. It matched up with what the Talon had reported.
There were two stars, a yellow main sequence and a blue dwarf. The dwarf orbited the first at an average distance of six billion kilometers, or roughly the same distance as Pluto from Earth’s sun. The dwarf had three terrestrial planets orbiting it, ranging in size from Mercury to Mars, and a gas planet twice the diameter of Earth. The wormhole the fleet had emerged from revolved around that dwarf as well, a hundred million kilometers beyond the third planet.
Conversely, two gas giants orbited the yellow main sequence star, at average distances of eight hundred million and one point five billion respectively. The second Slipstream, which the admiral had named 2-Karak for whatever reason, resided about three hundred million kilometers from the yellow star, or about four and a half billion kilometers from the fleet’s current location. That final wormhole led to Raakarr-2, the system containing the colony the fleet intended to destroy.
When Task Group 72.5 was through in its entirety Jonathan tapped in the vice admiral.
“Requesting permission for the Talon to transmit the planned message.”
“Permission granted,” the vice admiral replied.
Jonathan tapped in Wethersfield.
“Have Valor proceed with the transmission,” Jonathan instructed the liaison officer.
A moment later Ensign McNamara, second watch ops officer, said: “I’m picking up a focused gamma ray beam from the Talon. It’s directed toward the Raakarr comm node equivalents outside 1-Karak.” That was the wormhole the fleet had just emerged from.
Jonathan nodded.
“The Raakarr probes are emitting two more focused gamma ray beams,” McNamara said. “The targets appears to be the alien probes camped out at the farther Slipstream.”
And once those remote devices received the signal, they would retransmit it into the Slipstream to other probes waiting in Raakarr-2.
“Let me know when the transmission ends,” Jonathan said.
“It’s done,” McNamara replied a few moments later.
“Comm, inform the admiral that the alien probes have transmitted the message,” Jonathan told the second watch comm officer, who resided two seats to the left of the captain in the command circle.
“You think the Zarafe sleeper cells will actually receive it?” Robert said. He sat at the Round Table just to Jonathan’s right.
“I don’t know,” Jonathan replied. “Barrick claimed they would.”
Robert rubbed his earlobe. “And he also claimed it could only be read by the intended recipients. You know, it’s interesting how the Raakarr have set up a network of probes similar to ours, forming their own version of our InterGalNet. With similar encryption and decryption methodologies.”
“We’re not so different, are we?” Jonathan asked.
“In some ways, no,” Robert said. “I just wish we had their Slipstream-traversal
tech.”
“Don’t we all,” Jonathan said.
“The admiral is instructing our task group to proceed with the capture of the alien probes,” the comm officer interrupted.
Jonathan tapped in Wethersfield. “The Talon has permission to capture the probes.”
On the tactical display, Jonathan watched as the alien vessel maneuvered toward the two objects. Valor claimed that once captured, the Zarafe could reprogram the probes to report false telemetry information. If they failed, they had specific instructions to destroy the devices.
“Targeting remote probes outside 2-Karak,” Admiral Ford transmitted fleet-wide.
The Renegade launched two kinetic kills, aimed at the Raakarr probes in orbit around the far Slipstream. It would be about three weeks before those missiles struck, long after the message to the sleeper cells was retransmitted. Valor had wanted the Talon to capture those, too, but Ford thought it better to destroy them as fast as possible, allowing the reprogrammed probes to transmit their false telemetry information sooner, without the farther devices sending conflicting data in the interim.
After grappling the probes, the Talon moved away from the Slipstream endpoint. The Talon left its modified fighter in place to continue transmitting a picture of Vega 951 back to their vessel, as promised.
The fleet launched telemetry drones to explore the system. It would be a couple of weeks until those returned a complete scan of Raakarr-1 for hostiles. In the meantime, one of the Builders began construction on the return Gate to Vega 951.
Wethersfield tapped in from the Talon on the second day. “Barrack tells me the Zarafe have successfully reprogrammed the comm node equivalents and they’re redeploying them now. As soon as the admiral’s missiles destroy the farther probes, these will transmit data back to Raakarr-2 indicating that we’ve departed the system.”
“Good job,” Jonathan said. He relayed the information to the admiral.
“You really think the Raakarr are going to fall for it?” Robert asked.