by Nick Webb
“Spit it out, Lieutenant.”
“Their energy systems, their computing systems, everything is distributed. I’d think they would have found a way to do that to the engines too, somehow. Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Ensign Riisa glanced back at him nervously. “Sir? Should I plot a course for the fleet?”
Volz chuckled. “Of course not. Begin maneuver Ballsy Bitch Slap One.”
Whitehorse shook her head again, this time in exasperation. “Acknowledged. Commencing maneuver BBS One.” She refused to say the full name.
“And for good measure, target the coordinates that Tillis sent through,” said Volz. “May as well. It’ll either prove them right, or confirm your suspicions, Jerusha.”
She nodded, and relayed the orders to the appropriate crews. “Cargo bay reports ready, sir.”
“Avery’s package is stable?”
“As stable as ten kilos of antimatter can get, sir.”
Just last week he’d paid former president Avery a visit, and threatened to convince Fleet Admiral Oppenheimer to take away her access to the retired Interstellar One she’d used during her second term. He suspected Oppenheimer didn’t actually have that power, and that she knew it, but after some healthy vulgar banter—which was what he suspected was all she wanted in the first place—she relented and gave him the location of a hidden cache of raw antimatter produced by the Mars Project during the war. Nearly a ton. Enough for millions of anti-matter bombs.
Bombs took time to make, of course. But anti-matter itself was sufficient for what Ballsy wanted.
Raw, uncontrolled violence.
“Launch.”
Whitehorse relayed the order, and after a few seconds nodded at her console. Package launched, sir.”
“Ms. Riisa?”
“Moving us off, sir,” said the helmswoman.
The Independence edged away from the slowly rotating package—a hodgepodge of wires, relays, electrical components, the container of anti-matter, and the magic sauce: a fully functional q-jump engine.
“This better be worth what we paid for that thing.”
“We confiscated it from pirates, sir.”
Volz shrugged. “But it cost us half a day to track them down, appropriate the stolen goods, and repurpose the engine to mount it to our package, and remove the auto-safety algorithms that would have made Ballsy Bitch Slap One impossible.”
Every q-jump engine was hardwired with auto-safety algorithms that prevented the user from accidentally entering coordinates that would prove catastrophic. Such as a helmsman transposing a set of coordinates and unwittingly plotting their arrival right in the center of a star.
Or, in this case, a Swarm ship.
“Now,” said Volz.
In a flash, the package disappeared.
“Report.”
Whitehorse scanned her console readouts. “It worked. Tapping into the Endeavor’s video feed—they have a better perspective than us.”
The viewscreen ahead of them changed from the front of the ship to the rear, where a massive gout of glowing debris was spewing from the hull in an expanding sphere. Massive, except for….
“Zoom out. Pan the camera,” said Volz.
The view changed again, and the explosion shrunk down to a tiny dot on the incomprehensibly large ship. Just a small pinprick on a giant.
“Any change in their engine status?”
Whitehorse shook her head. “None, sir. Their course is still straight at Britannia. And their primary weapon spire is charging.”
“Fine. Operation Ballsy Bitch Slap Two.”
“Aye, aye sir. BBS Two.” Whitehorse relayed commands to the cargo bay, and soon there was another package floating off the port side of the ship. Ensign Riisa moved the Independence slightly to avoid the q-jump wake of the package’s engines, and it, too, disappeared in a flash.
This time, Whitehorse smiled. “Success, sir. The weapons spire looks like it’s disabled.” Her eyes widened. “And, it looks like the built-up energy in their banks discharged, and the whole thing is lighting up like the fourth of July. Bonus.”
“Onscreen.”
The screen changed to show the devastated spire crackling with explosive energy, metal and struts and wreckage expanding outward in a glowing cloud of molten slag.
“One down. How many of those things?”
Commander Mumford at the science station glanced up at him. “Over three ships? At least ninety more spires just like that.”
“And the ship is turning to point another one at the planet, sir.”
Volz gripped his armrests. “And around and around we go. Where it stops nobody knows. Prepare another package, lieutenant. We’ll keep this up as long as they let us.”
As if on cue, the ship shook violently. Volz nearly flew from his seat before he managed to fasten his restraint. “Riisa! Now! Operation Ballsy Bitch Slap Three!”
The helmswoman engaged the T-jump engines, and they arrived at the coordinates she’d entered just moments before.
Right in the center of the glowing wreckage left by Ballsy Bitch Slap One, deep inside the Swarm ship.
Volz flashed a dark grin. “It’s show time, folks.”
Chapter Five
Bridge
ISS Defiance
Sector 21-K
There it was. Titan. One side still glowing a dull red from the catastrophic impact with the Swarm ship over Earth just two weeks ago. She thought she could make out great billowing storms raging across the surface, probably from the vast amounts of dust thrown up into the thin atmosphere from the collision. Flashes here and there indicated intense lightning.
If there had been anything down there on that hellish surface, it would have been long dead.
“Report. Anything on passive scans?” she said, after studying the image for a few minutes, giving the inexperienced Lieutenant Davenport some extra time to perform his duties. She hoped he knew to immediately start the passive scanning—it’s something even a first year cadet would have known how to do. Though she supposed marines did not typically receive space naval officer training.
“Nothing of interest, ma’am. All bands silent, except for what looks like spikes and reverberations from the lightning storms on the surface.”
Nothing of interest to you, she thought. “Give me a magnetic scan. What’s going on down there in the mantle and core, I wonder?”
Another minute or so, and Davenport looked up at her. “Ma’am? I … I don’t know what I’m looking for here.”
She forced herself not to sigh. It was her choice that these marines were here instead of Lieutenant Whitehorse, Lieutenant Qwerty, Zivic, and the other officers she’d originally brought with her aboard the Defiance. But, given her fugitive status, she did not want to jeopardize their careers, and ordered them back to the Independence. She supposed the marines would not be held to the same disciplinary standards as her officers, but she couldn’t be sure how Oppenheimer would treat them. Besides, they volunteered anyway, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. But now she was left with a bridge crew that had only the faintest idea of how to be a bridge crew. She was the only one on board that could do … well, anything. Starship related, at least.
Well, not the only person.
That woman was still below, down in the brig. President Quimby’s true murderer. And the rogue Admiral Mullins, who was Fiona Liu’s real target.
“Here, let me.” She waved Davenport out of his seat and took his place. Good Lord, he’s tall. She reached down to adjust the seat so she could rest her feet on the floor.
Commander Carson looked over her shoulder. “Anything, ma’am?”
“Lots of things, actually. But it’ll take time to analyze the data, and I have neither the time nor the crew to do that. But the fluctuations in the magnetic field indicate that … something not normal is going on inside that moon. Planetary magnetic fields are created by the movement of magma which also happens to carry electric current. Especially deep dow
n in the metallic core. But these? Good Lord. I have no idea what these readings mean. All I know is Titan is not behaving normally, which we already knew.”
“So we’ve learned nothing, ma’am?”
“On the contrary. We’ve learned that there’s a good chance he’s still there. That he’s still alive and controlling things.”
She could see the look in Carson’s eyes. The doubt. The hesitation as he searched for the words to say.
“It’s ok, commander, you can just say it. I’m crazy. I know. But I’m also an admiral, so I get special crazy privileges.”
She could make out the barest smirk as he replied, “You’re also a wanted criminal, ma’am, so don’t fuck with me.” He paused, and the smirk deepened. “With all due respect.”
She guffawed. He had balls, she’d give him that. And in the current dire circumstances, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about protocol.
And he was funny. Just like Ensign Babu. No. Captain Babu. Her assistant that she’d ordered to pilot a ship full of anti-matter bombs straight down into a Swarm ship.
Saving Earth in the process. But making an order like that … had a cost, she surmised. It either killed her a little inside, or enlivened her, making her appreciate life and the preciousness of it all the more. She couldn’t decide which.
“Watch your language,” she retorted with a smile. In truth, she’d let the profanities fly ever since Titan disappeared. Her mother’s tut-tutting in her mind had gone silent in recent days. “Listen. All of you. I’ll be blunt. You deserve that. I’m no Grangerite. I promise. But … he’s down there. I know it. I heard his voice, and it spoke things to me that no one would ever, ever know. He told me things that I’ve never told another living soul.”
Commander Carson nodded politely. “Ma’am, that’s incredible. Really. But … if he told you things that you’ve never told another living soul, is there a chance, just a chance, that maybe—”
He faltered, apparently unsure of how to word it. “A chance that I’m crazy? Yes. We’ve established that already, commander. Yes, it could be in my head. I realize that. But since we have a record of the whole incident two weeks ago, I’m inclined to trust my gut on this one.”
“And your gut says that the Hero of Earth, Captain Timothy Granger, entered a black hole thirty years ago, spent thirteen billions years there, only to come out a few weeks ago and start turning moons into giant space stations to protect us against a new Swarm invasion?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.”
Commander Carson stood up straight, his back stiff, and brought his hand up to his forehead in a smart salute. “Ma’am, I think I speak for all of us when I say, and I mean this with the deepest respect … that’s a load of horse shit. It’s impossible. But … we believe you. We believe in you. You’ve saved Earth enough times now to earn a little benefit of the doubt.”
She nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
“And ma’am?” he continued, “we’ll follow you to the end. To the end of the world.”
A feeling of awe swelled inside her at their devotion, and she turned back to Lieutenant Davenport’s terminal. “It think it’s time we made contact. Every time he’s reached out to me, it’s been through something encoded into a beam of weapons fire. I’ll assume from that that he can’t send or receive radio signals. So I’m firing one of the lasers at low power down towards the surface and encoding my voice into it.” She worked the controls for a few minutes, marveling now at how fast Lieutenant Qwerty had done the same thing.
“Are you sure … he can pick up the signal?”
“No. But it’s all we’ve got.” A final few commands…. “Ok, here we go.” She cleared her throat and initiated the recording process. “Tim. It’s Shelby. I’m here. Are you hurt? Do you need help? Talk to me, Tim.”
They all turned to the viewscreen, as if instinctually they all knew that any response would manifest itself as a visual cue from Titan itself. One minute, then two passed. She turned back to the console. “Tim, please talk to me. Tell me what I can do to help. Help me defeat the Swarm. Again. It’s why you came back, right? You came back to … to protect us. To save us again. My god, Tim … it’s … breathtaking what you’ve done. It’s unbelievable. But … I believe, Tim. I believe it’s you. And I need your help.”
“Ma’am! Something’s happening!”
She whipped her head back toward the screen. “What? I don’t see anything.”
The third marine, Lieutenant Case, pressed a few controls on his console. The screen zoomed in to a specific location on the surface, far away from the glowing impact zone of the Swarm ship.
A … hatch was opening. A giant hole in the ground ripped open, the surface rocks tumbling into the gaping chasm. “How … how big is that?”
Lieutenant Case hunched over his controls, hunting and pecking at indicators and commands on a console he was just becoming familiar with. “Uh … lemme check … aw shit.” A few more mumbled profanities later, and he looked up. “Five point eight kilometers, ma’am.”
Proctor nodded. “Ok. He wants us to go in.”
All three marines turned to her in shock. “Ma’am?” said Commander Carson.
“You heard me, commander. The weapons port—the giant hole in the ground where Titan’s beam came from—it was only a kilometer across. This one is almost six. More than enough to allow a ship to pass through. It’s like he’s waving us right in.”
She could see the misgiving on all their faces, but to their credit they sprang into action. Soon, the hole loomed ahead of them as the Defiance descended into the moon’s gravity well. Lieutenant Case pointed up to the screen. “Ma’am, what should I do if this turns out to be another weapons port?”
She crossed her legs and shrugged. “Dodge.”
Commander Carson suppressed a laugh. They all watched the hole get bigger and bigger, until it filled the entire screen. She could just barely make out a faint light coming from the deep, twenty or thirty kilometers into the hole, but couldn’t see any detail.
“Ma’am! I’m picking up a code red priority meta-space distress signal!” said Lieutenant Davenport.
“From?”
“Britannia, ma’am. They’re under attack. Three Swarm ships.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “No,” she whispered. So many people. A million had died on New Dublin last week. Now would it be eight billion on Britannia? The center of humanity’s culture and commerce and art, second only to Earth itself?
She had to do something. She had to help. Humanity depended on her.
But what could she do? What difference would one more tiny ship do against those monstrosities?
“Ma’am … strange readings coming off the moon….”
They were almost inside the giant hatch. It was just kilometers away. But it seemed Tim was going to make her decision for her: in a flash, Titan disappeared.
The q-field wake rocked the ship. They had been far too close to the planet when it q-jumped, and as a result the passing q-wave interacted catastrophically with the q-field generators all over the hull. On her command console she saw red. Lots of red. Systems were down all over the ship. She’d been close to other ships when they’d q-jumped too close to hers and the results were never pleasant.
But this was an entire moon entering q-space. The scale of systems interference would be devastating, depending on how aligned their own q-field generators were to the phase of the moon’s.
“Follow it,” she said, hoping against hope that it wasn’t that bad.
“Ma’am, we’re not only not following it, we’re also not … going to be alive in a few minutes.”
She snapped her head towards Commander Carson. “What? Why?”
“The shock not only overloaded the q-field generators, some of the generators themselves charged up, exploded, and sent massive feedback down into the power plant, which led to a cascading failure of the safety interlocks. The coolant syste
m is also dead, and, well, I’m no anti-matter engineer, but this sure as hell looks like a meltdown in progress.”
She bolted out of her seat and ran towards the exit. Carson stood up to block her path. “Get the hell out of my way!”
“Ma’am, if you go down there, you could very well die. There’s no telling how much radiation is loose down there.”
“If I don’t get down there, we’re all going to die anyway. Move!”
“Ma’am, I insist that we get to the escape pods.” He practically shoved her towards the rear of the bridge where four hatches led to their only hope of survival.
At that exact moment, the exit door opened. A figure stood there.
A figure with a gun. Pointed straight at Admiral Proctor’s chest.
Fiona Liu smiled. “You weren’t going to jump ship without me, were you? What would our Danny have to say about that, Shelby?”
Chapter Six
Bridge
ISS Independence
Inside Swarm Vessel
Near Britannia
The Independence shook so hard that several of the bridge’s ceiling panels clattered to the floor. Volz glanced nervously at his console readout. “Ensign, you gotta match their acceleration profile closer!”
Riisa swore under her breath, too quietly for him to hear. “Trying, sir.”
“Try harder, dammit. That last collision took out half our starboard mag-rail batteries.”
The problem with one ship floating inside another ship was that if the outer ship decided to change direction, the ship on the inside would smash up against the side of the space it was hiding in. And the Independence had just collided with part of the giant cavity they had blown inside the Swarm vessel. The cavity was still glowing red from the catastrophic detonation of the anti-matter package.
Lieutenant Qwerty yelled across the bridge. “Ensign, couple the positioning sensors into the auto-translator, then pass control to me—”
“What the fu—” Riisa started to say.