by Isaac Hooke
“Gravitational readings from the new Gate are holding steady,” Salari said. “Meanwhile shear forces on the drone remain negligible. We’re good to go. Sending the craft through.”
The drone passed into the invisible opening in space-time demarcated by the ten kilometer ring of the Gate and promptly vanished.
“Telemetry drone is through,” Salari said. “I repeat, telemetry drone is through. T-minus ten seconds until its return. Nine. Eight...”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Jonathan stared at the display. He could feel the tension rising on the bridge. Five more seconds passed. Ten.
“Well?” Jonathan said. “Where is it?”
Salari adopted a puzzled expression. “I have no idea, sir.”
Jonathan waited another thirty seconds, and then said: “Obviously you have some more work to do.”
“I don’t understand it,” Salari said. “The Gate is the perfect radius. The segments the ideal width. The countering gravitational distortions are just right. That should have worked. Everything is precisely within expected parameters.”
“You’re certain a return Gate exists on the other side?” Jonathan asked.
Captain Salari smiled sheepishly. “No, sir.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t check?”
“While we can use gravimetric fluctuations to detect whether a return Gate exists beyond a Slipstream,” Salari explained. “The process can take up to a week before any conclusive findings are obtained. I had neglected the procedure to accelerate our return. I had simply assumed that the return Gate was still in place. I mean, why would it be absent? None of us had any reason to believe otherwise. Besides, it doesn’t matter all that much... we don’t really need a return Gate. I don’t think any of us wants to come back here.”
“Start the procedure, please,” Jonathan said. “And triple check everything else: all the parameters and formulas used in the Gate construction. When you’re sure everything is perfect, launch another test drone. Keep me apprised of your progress. Captain Dallas out.”
He terminated the remote connection.
“Looks like we’ll be staying here a while longer.” Jonathan sat back. He crossed his left arm over his upper chest, gripped the right bicep, and brought his right hand to his lips. The thumb, index and middle fingers formed the points of a triangle beneath his chin and upper lip respectively. He tapped his fingertips against the clean-shaven skin.
Beside him, Robert extended his noise canceler around the captain.
“I don’t like it,” Robert said. “What if the aliens did something to the Slipstream? Something to prevent our return? They did remain in orbit around 1-Vega for quite a long time.”
“I have no idea what to think at this point,” Jonathan admitted.
“Is it possible there’s no Gate on the other side?” Robert said.
“Possible,” Jonathan said. “But unlikely. You’ll recall we were receiving comm drones from NAVCENT right up until redundancy protocol demanded that Central Command stop sending them.”
“The Gate could have been dismantled after that.”
“Why?” Jonathan said. “They would have no reason to dismantle it. That Gate was built at the natural termination of the Slipstream. If ships wanted to enter United Systems territory through 1-Vega, they could do so without issue.”
“Which brings up another point,” Robert said. “Even if there is no Gate on the other side, we can still pass through.”
“That assumes the aliens haven’t done something to damage the Slipstream, as you suggested,” Jonathan said. “We could be destroyed the moment we pass inside. I’m not ordering the fleet through until we’re certain there’s no return Gate.”
“That brings up another point,” Robert said. “It’s possible the aliens mined the other side of the Slipstream. They can travel the wormholes without Gates, after all. So it’s reasonable to assume they were able to send objects through, such as mines.”
“We’ve seen no indication they possess nukes or mines,” Jonathan said.
“That doesn’t mean they don’t have them,” Robert argued.
“All right,” Jonathan said. “If the aliens indeed mined the exit, that means NAVCENT had to clear those mines in order to send through their final comm drone to us.”
“Good point. Is it possible Central Command itself has mined that side of the Gate, then? And that was what destroyed our drones?”
“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said. “The automated targeting systems wouldn’t fire or detonate when United System property was recognized.”
“Unless they had standing orders to fire at anything that emerged from the Gate, friend or foe.”
“I don’t think we’ve done anything to put ourselves on the NAVCENT kill list just yet,” Jonathan said. “Then again, with the way our navy has been behaving lately, it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”
“You’d think they would have at least sent in a small task group with a Builder to check up on us by now.”
“You would,” Jonathan said. “But with everything else going on, all the distractions the Sino-Koreans are giving them and whatnot, I’m not surprised they haven’t. I have a feeling it’ll be at least another six months before they even consider doing something like that.”
Jonathan sat back and exhaled. He stared at Contessa Gate on his aReal and tapped his lips with splayed fingers.
“Captain,” Ensign Tara Lewis said from the ops station. Her voice sounded urgent. “A flash was just detected at 2-Vega. And one of our missiles deployed in front of said Slipstream has stopped returning telemetry.”
“The nuke detonated?” Jonathan asked.
“That would appear to be the case,” Lewis said. “I’m detecting debris in the area.”
“I thought nukes didn’t leave debris?” Jonathan said.
“They don’t,” Lewis clarified. “This debris came from something else. The amount is consistent with a small probe.”
“Send me the best view we have of 2-Vega,” the captain ordered.
Jonathan’s aReal updated. A flash momentarily filled his vision.
“Tell me that was a recording,” Jonathan said.
“No Captain,” the ensign said. “That was live. We just lost another nuke.”
Jonathan watched helplessly as the three remaining nukes were detonated in turn by advance probes too tiny to see with the naked eye at that zoom level.
Then a ship appeared. It was vaguely dart-like, with small fins protruding from the four quadrants of the aft section. No human vessel bore a design like that.
Another ship emerged from the Slipstream. Another.
“Are you seeing this?” Jonathan asked no one in particular.
“I am,” Robert said.
The crafts continued to flow from the Slipstream. Jonathan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, one that grew with every new arrival.
Finally the incoming waves ceased.
Jonathan took a moment to tally the newcomers. Twenty-one dart ships. Five of the larger, box-shaped capital ships. Three of the cylindrical laser ships.
And lastly, a new class of ship Jonathan had never seen before. It looked like a pyramid built atop four stilts, and was larger than a dart ship but smaller than a capital ship.
Thirty vessels in total, versus Jonathan’s seven, of which only five were truly combat capable.
The enemy reinforcements had arrived.
seven
Ops, how old is the image I’m looking at?” Jonathan asked.
“Half an hour,” Ensign Lewis responded.
The vessels had begun to accelerate.
“Do we have an estimate on their course, yet?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes,” Lewis said. “They appear to be headed directly toward us.”
On the tactical display of the aReal, the dashed line of the vessel’s computed trajectory updated to intersect the task group.
“How lon
g until they’re within firing range?”
“We have about five days,” Lewis said. “Assuming they attain the maximum speed we witnessed in our last encounters.”
“Five days.” Jonathan tapped his lips with splayed fingers. “Lazur, tap me into the Marley.”
Captain Salari appeared.
“Have you triple checked all your readings on the new Gate yet?” Jonathan asked.
“Almost, sir,” Salari said.
“Let me know when you do.” Jonathan terminated the connection and tapped his fingers impatiently on his armrest.
“Opinions, people?” he asked the bridge crew.
“I think it’s fairly obvious we can’t stay here,” the tactical officer, Lieutenant Miko, said. “We’re hopelessly outnumbered.”
“What if we had to stay?” Jonathan said.
“The enemy ships have a faster maximum speed than our own vessels,” Miko replied. “Especially when you include the fact that we’re limited by the slower Builder and harvester class ships. If we stay, we definitely won’t be able to endlessly orbit the outskirts of the system. We can’t outrun them. We’ll have to face the enemy at one point.”
“But like you said, we’re outnumbered,” Robert told him.
“Yes,” Miko said. “But... well, we could potentially level the playing field somewhat by fighting on a battleground of our choosing. Maybe near the gravity well of one of the giants, where their greater maneuverability and speed would be negated by the stronger gravity.”
“But the gravity of a gas giant won’t change the fact that they have thirty ships and we have seven,” the commander said.
“True.” Miko pursed his lips. “If we could get them to divide their forces somehow...”
“The question is, how?” Jonathan said.
“Well, we know they’re attracted to the easier targets. If we used the Grimm and Marley as bait, and sent them to the far side of the gas giant...”
“The wolf feeds on the caribou,” Jonathan said, glancing at Robert.
“But the wolf also makes the caribou strong,” the commander finished.
Jonathan nodded slowly.
“What if the wolf only wants to talk?” Ensign Lewis said.
“You don’t bring along thirty warships when you just want to talk,” Jonathan said flatly.
“Captain,” Lazur announced. “Salari is requesting a tap in.”
“Grant it.”
Salari appeared in the center of the Round Table. “Sir. As ordered, we’ve finished triple-checking the necessary parameters. The Gate is absolutely of the correct size and dimensions. The robots have made no mistakes.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Jonathan said. “I want you to launch another telemetry drone. Now.”
“Immediately, sir,” Salari said. A moment later: “Telemetry drone launched.” Another pause. “Readings at the gravitational rim are optimal. Sending the drone through.” Silence. “T-minus ten seconds until return. Nine. Eight.” Salari continued the countdown. When he reached one, he waited several moments before proclaiming: “The second drone failed to return as well, sir.”
“When will you know if the return Gate is absent?” Jonathan asked the man.
“At this rate, around five days.”
Too late, by then.
“Thank you, Salari,” Jonathan said. “Captain Dallas out.” He terminated the connection.
He glanced at Robert and extended a noise canceler around the commander. “So either we stay here, and likely allow ourselves to be blown to smithereens by these aliens...”
“Or we pass through the Gate,” Robert finished. “And risk a similar fate, if the aliens tinkered with the Slipstream in some way.”
“It’s times like these when I dislike being a flagship commander.” Jonathan clasped his hands and steepled the index fingers, tapping the skin above his lips. He stared at the dots representing the enemy ships on the tactical display. “For every moment we sit here dawdling, that’s another moment we could have spent warning Central Command of the alien threat. At the very least we have to dispatch a comm drone.”
He lowered the noise canceler. “Lieutenant Lazur. Prepare to launch a comm drone through Contessa Gate. Include the logs tagged NAVCENT from the past six months, as well as the highlighted battlefield footage and commentary I’m sending you now.”
Jonathan selected the virtual folder he had prepared for that moment and dragged it to the icon representing Lazur’s aReal.
“Got it, Captain,” Lazur said. “Ready to dispatch comm drone on your command.”
“Program the drone to autobroadcast once it arrives in Prius 3,” Jonathan ordered. “And launch when ready.”
“Drone is away,” Lazur replied.
Jonathan accessed the external video feed of a forward camera. He watched the spherical drone travel toward the Gate and abruptly blink out of existence.
“Comm platform is through,” Lazur announced.
The moment of truth had come. The fate of the entire task group rested upon the choices he made in the next few moments. For the most part, a captain’s life involved various minor, day-to-day decisions, but every once in a while a major, life and death scenario came along, and a captain had to rely upon all his or her years of experience and intuition to make a choice. And in the current case, that choice boiled down to two options.
Stay, or go?
Jonathan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
He arrived at his decision.
“It’s time to roll the dice.” Jonathan buttoned up his collar. “Ops, recall all telemetry drones. Maxwell, sound General Quarters. Miko, relay both orders to the fleet. Tell the task group to prepare for Gate crossing.”
Ensign Lewis and Lieutenant Miko echoed the respective commands.
“General quarters!” The AI’s voice came over the main circuit. “General quarters! All hands man your battle stations. Up and forward to starboard, down and aft to port. This is not a drill! General quarters, General quarters.” A klaxon sounded five times before the message repeated.
Some minutes later Lewis announced: “Telemetry drones have docked.”
“Miko,” Jonathan said. “Are our remaining heavy lasers fully charged yet?”
“Negative,” Miko returned. “We’re currently at thirty percent.” That meant three minutes since general quarters had sounded. It took about ten minutes to fully charge from zero.
“Inform me when we’re at a hundred percent,” Jonathan told him.
“Yes, Captain,” Miko said.
“Lazur,” Jonathan said. “Tap me into the captains of the warships. 2D video.”
The captains of the Salvador, Aurelia, Dagger and Maelstrom appeared on Jonathan’s aReal in turn, each taking up a different quadrant of his vision.
“I’m looking for a volunteer to lead the way,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll do it,” Captain Rail of the Salvador returned immediately. Her mouth was set in a grim line. If there was one thing to be said about the former member of Admiral Knox’s task unit, it was that she was brave.
“Captain Rail,” Jonathan said. “As soon as your Vipers are fully charged, I want you to travel through the Gate and return, if at all possible. You are authorized to use deadly force against any antagonistic actors you find on the other side. We will wait twenty minutes. If you do not return, the remaining ships will pass through in rapid succession. Do you understand?”
“I do, sir,” Rail said.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rail said.
“Captain Jonathan Dallas out.” The four captains blinked from the display.
Jonathan glanced at Miko. “Tactical. Instruct the fleet to form a diagonal chain before the Gate. I want the Salvador at the front, followed by the Aurelia, Dagger, Callaway, Grimm, Marley, and the Maelstrom bringing up the rear. Separation, five hundred meters per ship in both the X and Z planes.”
Several minutes passed as the ships moved into the requested fo
rmation. Jonathan watched the diagonal shape slowly form on his tactical display.
“The ships are a bit close, aren’t they?” Robert commented in a noise canceler session.
“I want us to pass through almost simultaneously, if the Salvador doesn’t come back,” Jonathan said. “We might need the combined firepower of the fleet.”
“Heavy lasers are at one hundred percent charge,” Miko announced.
“The Salvador is breaking formation,” Ensign Lewis said.
Jonathan watched the destroyer move away. The warship paused at the brink.
“Captain Rail reports that the gravimetric distortions appear to be within safe levels,” Lazur said from the comm station. “She’s going in.”
Jonathan nodded distractedly.
The ship accelerated. And then, in an instant, the Salvador vanished entirely.
Jonathan programmed a twenty minute timer into his aReal and watched the countdown. He began to fidget in his seat. Rail and her crew could be engaged in a life or death struggle beyond the Gate at that very moment. The thought made every second of waiting an unbearable agony. He almost retracted his previous order, and was ready to send the fleet through at full speed. But he reminded himself not to second guess his choices.
Stick to your decisions. There is no guarantee Rail is fighting anything over there. Or that we would even be able to help her if we went through now.
He could feel the palpable tension in the air as the other members of the crew also shifted in their seats, obviously battling similar nerves. The captain continued to stare at the countdown on his aReal, and although he urged the seconds to tick down faster, those twenty minutes proved to be the longest of his life.
Finally the timer hit zero.
“All right,” Jonathan said. “Looks like she’s not coming back. Tell the fleet to advance, Miko. Quarter thrust. Be ready to open fire on my mark.”
The ships accelerated toward the Gate in succession. The Aurelia traversed. Then the Dagger.
The Callaway approached...
Jonathan watched the external feed from the nose as his prized starship passed through the distortion in space time. When the wormhole seized hold of the ship, the constellations and star patterns abruptly changed, reflecting the Callaway’s new absolute location in the galaxy.