The Battle of Sauron

by John F. Carr

  Given enough time, the Imperials might even have decoded the entire random jump sequence Diettinger had designed, if he hadn’t cleverly left the randomization process in the hands of the shipboard mechanical computers; in effect, even he did not know where they were going. But not knowing, he now had no idea what to tell the remnants of the fleet.

  So, he couldn’t signal the fleet to jump out and rendezvous somewhere down the line; the Imperials would overhear and follow them immediately. And the Fomoria certainly couldn’t stay here.

  “First Rank,” Second called out, “Receiving scattered signals from all fleet elements.”

  “Speak,” he said quietly.

  “Various messages, First Rank,” she said after a moment. Quiet as Diettinger’s command had been, her voice was lower still. “All signals are the same general message: One: ‘We will cover your escape.’ Two: send ‘For the Race;’ Three: send ‘Vengeance’.”

  In the display, Sauron was passing beneath them and to port. From behind the far side of the Homeworld emerged a massive cloud of debris: All that was left of the Damaris and the four Imperial battleships that had foolishly pursued the tigress into her lair.

  Diettinger let out a long breath. “Status of the random Jump program?”

  “Intact, First Rank. Mechanical jump-clocks now disconnecting from main computer; timers initiating; indicators show all active.”

  Diettinger nodded.

  “Helm. You guided us into the Tanith Alderson Point at seven gravities’ acceleration. You are to guide us into the Wayforth Alderson Point at no less than nine.”

  Helm managed to keep his shock limited to a mere cessation of breathing and blinking. If First Rank noticed, he did not comment.

  Engineering spoke up. “First Rank, sensors report unusual turbulence at Wayforth Alderson Point.”

  “Will this influence the Jump?” Diettinger asked, through gritted teeth as the increase in speed pushed him back tightly against the acceleration couch.

  “Unknown, First Rank. It is without precedent.”

  Diettinger grimaced. We have no other place to go…

  “Weapons; Status Lermontov.”

  “Still pursuing, First Rank.”

  “Discourage her.”

  Fomoria lashed out at the Imperial battleship with a fury of lasers. Lermontov’s Field went violet, a massive burn-through at her bow, and the Imperial began to turn just as Fomoria began to shudder.

  “Can we do something about this vibration, Second Rank?” Diettinger asked.

  “Harmonics, First Rank. We have received heavy damage to several main stress-bearing elements and our structural integrity is degrading. The pulse of the thrusters at this acceleration is matching the vibration conducted to the hull and will shake us apart if we don’t slow down.”

  Diettinger was almost smiling. “A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would have sufficed, Second Rank.

  Helm, current velocity?”

  “Seven-point-nine-Gs, First Rank.”

  “Continue to eight.”

  Second Rank rolled her eyes.

  “Lermontov has broken off,” Sensors cut in. “Seven other capital ships vectoring to intercept.”

  “Will they catch us?”

  She grinned, never taking her eyes from the screens before her. “Not unless they want to have blood-jelly paste for crews, First Rank.”

  “How very colorful,” he said quietly.

  “The remaining Morgan Imperial fighters have broken off, First Rank,” Weapons notified him.

  “I should hope so,” Diettinger replied.

  “Acceleration now eight-point-five, First Rank,” came Helm’s update; his voice was shuddering along with the Fomoria, whose tremors were now becoming audible. A panel in one of the consoles, shaken loose by the incessant vibration, suddenly tore free, shot across the bridge at eight-and-one-half gravities and buried itself in the steel of the wall, missing Diettinger by less than a meter.

  “Time to Jump Point?” Diettinger asked in a voice distorted by high-gravity. Pressed back against his acceleration couch, he was now almost immobile.

  Navigation was unable to hear him; the din of Fomoria’s vibration was now too great even for Sauron ears. Diettinger looked to the display. The Morgans were just tiny points of light on the display. He shifted the immersion display’s viewpoint to look back at the Homeworld, to see the remnants of his task force—of the Sauron fleet—disappearing within a cloud of Imperial warships.

  And the Homeworld…firestorms and mushroom clouds pockmarked the land. Even the seas roiled as the Imperial ships sought out the great undersea cities. A great red wound ran along the main continent of Lebensraum as the Imperial assaults that had begun with the impact of Intruder Three ended by slashing the planet’s crust, while in space above, the bright lights of the Homeworld’s hopelessly outnumbered fleet pulsed and disappeared from the immersion display as each ship died. All but one.

  Is it possible for the universe to contain so much hate? he wondered. When their fury is spent here, will this be enough for them? Or has it now gained a life of its own? Can anything this inimical, this dynamic, this alive be put down once released? Or must it feed until it decides, in its own good time, that it has at last had enough blood for one century? Until its time comes round again…and will humanity, human norm or Sauron, ever be truly free of it? Should we even want to be? What if one day we find we are not, after all, alone in the universe? Hideous as this conflict has been, relentless as we have been to one another, what if one day humanity encounters something…worse?

  The shuddering stopped instantly as Fomoria hit the Wayforth Alderson Point and, at nine gravities’ acceleration, entered it perfectly.

  In the near-instantaneous moment of hyperspace travel, there comes a sensation of absolute but ephemeral clarity which passes almost before it has begun. In that millisecond of perfect, omniscient apprehension, Diettinger knew everything, every question, every answer, every beginning, every end…even the answer to the questions he himself had posed on the future of the race, human norm and Sauron. The answer was there—so obvious, so pure, so very, very simple.

  He reached out for it…

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  When Diettinger regained consciousness after the Jump, the Fomoria was already on autopilot, headed towards one of Wayforth Station’s six Alderson Points. He turned to Navigation: “How long before the next Jump?”

  The Ranker replied, “Eighteen hours at six-Gs, First Rank. Autopilot is headed for the Comstock Alderson Point.”

  Diettinger tried to nod, but his neck was too stiff. “Good,” he replied.

  Survey noted, “Two Morgans emerging from the Sauron Alderson Point. In pursuit.”

  “Second Rank, check with Medical Ranker Vanor to see if we can safely accelerate any faster.”

  “Imperial battleship Leviathan has just Jumped with three more Morgans,” Survey reported.

  “Imperial ships falling behind. All are on autopilot, but slowing down to prevent human norm deaths due to acceleration stress,” Second Rank added.

  Diettinger made a twitch of the lips that would have been perceived as a grin only to another Sauron. “As expected. We’ll lose them completely after our next Jump.”

  Althene talked on the intercom, then reported: “First Rank, Medical Ranker Vanor has determined that we can only continue at six-Gs if the crew and command are in hibersleep. Otherwise, he estimates that up to twenty percent of the crew will perish from acceleration stress, mostly the wounded.”

  “Order Vanor to initiate hibersleep procedures for crew. Command will stay awake. Ask him the estimated time.”

  She nodded and talked into the intercom. “He estimates two hours to prepare the pods and another hour getting the crew into them.”

  “Acceptable. Tell him to begin.”

  “Yes, First Rank.”

  “Furthermore, have him report to me when the ship’s crew are inside their pods. At that time, we will accelerate to eig
ht-G’s.”

  “Is that wise?” Althene asked.

  “No,” Diettinger replied. “But necessary.”

  He turned to the Astrogator, “Helm, continue at current acceleration.”

  Hibersleep was probably the best way for his crew to recover from the battle’s stress and their loss of sleep; in addition, it would keep them from mulling over the death of Homeworld. Diettinger wanted them in tiptop shape when they reached their final destination, wherever it might be.

  “Engineering, what’s the shape of our drive engines?”

  “Jump drive is still functioning, First Rank, but core failure is imminent. We almost lost the drive in one of the burn-throughs.”

  “How many Jumps can we make before it goes out?” Diettinger asked.

  The Engineering Ranker paused. “Safely?”

  “Both safely and pushing the envelope,” he replied.

  “On the safe side, I wouldn’t make more than two or three Jumps. With minimal repairs, we can hope for maybe ten.”

  “Make the repairs and hold off hibersleep for your rankers until they’re complete.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Diettinger turned to Second Rank. “Override my previous directive and input twelve Jumps.”

  Althene frowned. “Do you think that’s safe?”

  He shook his head. “No, but it’s the minimum number of Jumps we need to get as far away from the Imperial population centers as we need to be.” One of the overrides he had programmed into the computer was to make as many random Jumps as possible, but with the addendum that they were to be as far from the center of Imperial strength as possible.

  Engineering said, “First Rank, we lost over half our maneuvering fuel from one of the hull breaches. Two maneuvering engines down, only four left but two are suffering some damage.”

  Diettinger said, “Will they hold up?”

  The Engineering Ranker shrugged. “I’ll have my crew perform whatever makeshift repairs are needed to ensure they do.”

  “Good. Can they finish them before the next Jump?”

  “Yes, First Rank,” he replied, but it will take some time.”

  As the Fomoria approached the Comstock Alderson Point, Engineering’s voice came over the comm link: “First Rank, unusual tramline turbulence at Jump Point.”

  They had been decelerating for the past six hours and had left Imperial pursuit far behind. They were now approaching the Jump Point at three-Gs.

  Diettinger frowned. He had never encountered tramlines turbulence, nor had anyone else to his knowledge. “Possible effects?”

  “Insufficient data, First Rank,” Engineering reported. He paused before continuing, “The only similar situation was reported in CoDominium era.”

  “Go on.”

  “In 2076, Captain John Grant of the CNS Constellation encountered a Black Hole which caused the Alderson force to shift—”

  “Did the Point shift?” Diettinger interrupted.

  “Correct. The ship computer doesn’t search out the Point; it deduces the existence of the tramline from the stellar geometry. Alderson tramlines are generated by stellar nuclear activities and are not line-of-sight, meaning a ship can only travel along lines of equal flux. If something like a Black Hole interferes, the Alderson Point can shift position. The result was that the Constellation was stranded in normal space along with several other vessels.”

  “Is this what’s happening here?”

  “I don’t believe so, First Rank,” Engineering replied. “There are no reported Black Holes within the vicinity of Comstock; it must be some other unknown effect.”

  “Bad timing on our part,” he said.

  “Shall we change course, First Rank?” Helm asked.

  “Too late,” Diettinger replied. “The ship’s already committed to this Point. If we alter course—even with our current lead—we will be unable to evade Imperial pursuit.”

  “Jump drive activated, entering Alderson Point, now!’ Helm announced, as the fusion drive left normal space and worked its way into the tramline.

  There was a loud thrumming sound which pervaded the entire ship and unusual thumping noises, then a slight lurch.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  First Rank Galen Diettinger stirred slightly in the command seat, waiting for the Jump Lag to wear off. He shivered and his body felt clammy. Diettinger felt even more unsettled than usual; it was almost as if his mind had been twisted right along with normal space/time. Everything around him felt out of kilter—wrong somehow.

  As his vision cleared, Diettinger realized he could make out more details of the bridge surrounding him than he might have liked. Fire had blackened a third of the room, but now smoke was lazily drifting in the red glow of the combat lights.

  Somehow, they had made it. Diettinger stood, stretched, and stepped down on wobbling legs. He turned to Helm and asked, “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know, First Rank.”

  “Second Rank, activate Langston Field,” Diettinger ordered; he wanted to be prepared in case there were Imperial ships in-system.

  “Survey?”

  The Survey Ranker shook his head. “From all the readings, I know that this place is not our destination, the Comstock System.”

  “Then where in human-occupied space are we?” he asked.

  “I’m entering astrological data now,” Navigation said. “The positional program will use star sightings to identify our location.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we could be anywhere,” Navigation responded, his voice thin with worry.

  Diettinger waited impatiently, his normal calm and reserve fractured by Jump Lag and the uncertainty of their last Jump. He looked over at Althene and saw her face wrinkled with worry.

  “What happened during that last Jump, Engineering?”

  “I’m not sure, First Rank. It appears as if there was some Alderson force effect upon entry.”

  “It must have been massive,” Diettinger said. “It completely knocked us off our course for Comstock.”

  Engineering shrugged. “There was some sort of tramline disturbance.”

  “Look at that!” Althene cried, pointing to an icon of a supernova on the tactical display showing an unknown solar system. “When did that happen?”

  Engineering pointed to the display. “If it happened recently, that could be our problem. We will need to triangulate the Alderson force signature to determine its location and distance.”

  “Survey, get on that immediately,” Diettinger ordered. “Any immediate radiation danger?”

  “No, First Rank, the Field is doing fine,” Althene said. “Color: black, no detectable radiation input.”

  Diettinger released the breath he’d been holding. He knew that Alderson fluxes could be detected hundreds of light-years away; he hoped this was one of those cases.

  One of the other Survey Ranks reported: “Triangulation completed. Identity now known: the supernova explosion originated one hundred and eighty light-years away. The star is Betelgeuse: a red supergiant of spectral type M2Iab; one of the largest and most luminous known stars in the Milky Way Galaxy. Less than ten million years of age and has evolved swiftly due to its extreme mass. The explosion is not unexpected; although inconvenient.”

  “Engineering, how did it disrupt the Wayforth/Comstock Alderson tramline to the extent that we have arrived at an unknown location, possibly hundreds of light-years away from our destination?” Althene asked.

  “Alderson force is produced by thermonuclear reactions: A supernova is the ultimate thermonuclear reaction. No human has ever been in a position to witness what happens when such overwhelming energy is released near an Alderson Point. However, gauging by our own experience, I suspect that the massive influx of Alderson force near an existing tramline caused some sort of venting reaction. This allowed the force to spread through localized hyperspace, possibly scrambling existing tramlines, Jump Points and Terminals that were within several hundred light-years of the
event.”

  Diettinger nodded.

  Second Rank Adame added, “First Rank, I have heard theorists at the University speculate that a supernova explosion would produce extreme amounts of Alderson force, causing temporary super-long tramlines to form.”

  “Interesting hypothesis, for now,” Diettinger said. “Whether or not you have identified the cause of our predicament, the result is still the same: We are in an unidentified solar system and a long way from our original destination. However, I suspect that the effect was not localized to the Wayforth Alderson Points; therefore, we can assume that many other tramlines were similarly affected.”

  Althene smiled.

  “Take it, Second Rank.”

  “This Alderson flux means that any Imperial pursuit will be confounded by the tramline mix-up. Even if this is just a temporary phenomenon, it will have created havoc among Imperial shipping and military transport. Therefore, it may well have worked out in our favor.”

  “Excellent analysis, Second Rank. Any further thoughts, Engineering?”

  “Not knowing how localized this phenomenon is, or how long it will continue, I suggest we do not reenter any Alderson tramlines until we have tested it first with a probe.”

  “Good advice. Survey?”

  I’ve got data on our current location,” the Survey Ranker announced. “There are two planets in the habitable zone, but both appear unsuitable for life, and one gas giant.”

  “Report,” Diettinger ordered.

  THE HAVEN SYSTEM: In the CoDominium period, the system was referred to as Byers’ System. It was named after Jed Byers, the Captain of the CDS Survey craft, the CDSS Ranger. Haven is the official name given to the second moon of the fourth planet in Byers System. It is unusual in every way. Byers IV—generally known as the Cat’s Eye—is located far outside the normal habitable zone for a G2 star; but being approximately one-point-three Jupiter masses, the gas giant provides sufficient radiant energy to keep much of Haven marginally tolerable.