by Isaac Hooke
“There is such a thing as a ‘shipyard’ probe class in Raakarr inventories,” Barrick explained. “They could have launched one of these probes through the wormhole at any point while they were in orbit. It is a fully automated device which, once landed, would develop into a shipyard with the ability to create approximately one unmanned Raakarr vessel a month, depending on the ship class.”
“When you say shipyard, I imagine giant mechanical arms and lifting arrays,” Jonathan said. “How could they get something like that from a small probe?”
“It’s nothing like your usual shipyard,” Barrick said. “Otter tells me self-replicating microbots are involved. They use a form of etching to create the components. Because they’re self-replicating, in theory the machines can create more vessels as time goes on, though my understanding is that what usually happens when the shipyard deploys is that a base number of microbots are created, and once critical mass is achieved, only a small number of the bots are tasked with ship production, while the remainder are devoted to creating more microbots. Apparently thousands of them cease to function every minute, so new bots are mostly replacement units. The process is similar to how human cells are replaced, and can be modeled via cellular automata, though on a reduced scale.”
Jonathan didn’t know what to say. He was a little surprised that the aliens had revealed so much. Assuming it was the truth, and that the telepath hadn’t changed or invented any of it.
“Apparently the laser and capital ships take the longest to build,” Barrick continued. “But their production time can be shortened if they leave out lens segments of the laser, or cut back on the number of fighters in the capital ship.”
Jonathan still wasn’t sure he bought it all. “You say they built the ships in secret over the past six months. But the human comm nodes at the entrance to the Prius 3 Slipstream would have immediately transmitted the appearance of the alien probe to the military base on Prius 3A. And even if that probe somehow evaded detection long enough to reach the asteroid, the thermal signature made by all that construction would have revealed them.”
“Would it?” Barrick said. “Check the data on your aReal. The asteroid in question, most likely Hercules 951-A according to my local AI, rotates extremely slowly on its axis. That means the Raakarr could have easily set up a base on the far side and operated it unnoticed for the past six months.”
“Then how did the original probe escape detection?” Jonathan asked.
“Six months ago, according to my aReal, Prius 3A was on the far side of the third sun, which eclipsed the Slipstream from view of the military base and any telemetry drones in orbit. If the United Systems ships were not on patrol, it would have been relatively easy for the probe to enter, disable the nearby comm nodes with electromagnetic pulses, and then deploy behind the asteroid, which would have been close to Prius-2 at the time.”
On his aReal, Jonathan accessed the stellar positions of the Prius 3 celestial bodies and rewinded their locations to six months ago. Everything Barrick said was correct. It didn’t help that the former base was on the dark side of Prius 3A, facing away from the third sun and the Slipstream.
He realized something. “What about other United Systems telemetry drones? Not all of them would have been in orbit above Prius 3A. For example, the comm nodes near the Gate to Anvil Rappel. Some of our drones would have witnessed the original entry.”
“Perhaps,” Barrick said. “But consider: the visual and thermal signatures of the alien probe wouldn’t have been visible until too late. If it fired a stream of relativistic electrons at any United Systems telemetry drones it detected, the resultant EMP pulses would travel at nearly the same speed as the thermal information, disabling the drones shortly after detection, and rendering any scant data received as inconclusive.”
Finally Jonathan sighed, accepting that what Barrick said was entirely within the realm of possibility.
“So they snuck in right under our noses,” Jonathan remarked. “One question, why didn’t Valor tell me any of this when we were in Prius 3? If a shipyard existed in the system, we should have stopped to destroy it.”
“I don’t think he knew. His rank, as you previously surmised, probably wasn’t all that high aboard the Raakarr vessel.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together. “The Talon’s AI would have told him I’m sure.”
“If he bothered to ask, perhaps,” Barrick agreed.
“Fine,” Jonathan answered. “Another question: how many of these ‘shipyard’ probes do their ships have? Is it something that comes standard with every Raakarr vessel?” He wasn’t sure Otter or whoever Barrick was talking to would tell him, but he figured he would ask.
“They usually come with one each,” Barrick answered a moment later. “Though in a rush construction situation like what would have happened here, the microbots are programmed to omit any shipyard probes, along with other unessentials like lifepods. So the new ships likely don’t have any.”
“But those vessels that were part of the original reinforcements, like the pyramid ship, do have them,” Jonathan said. “So it’s entirely possible there’s another shipyard hidden somewhere in this system, or Prius 3.”
“Possible, yes,” Barrick replied. “Probable, even. The United Systems would be wise to perform a clean sweep of the system when it comes time to retake Anvil Rappel.”
Jonathan considered performing such a sweep right then, but the time necessary to send probes to all the planets, or even to personally fly out to them, would be better spent returning home.
Too bad there were seven enemy ships waiting in the next system, blocking the way. He would have to assume for the moment that they were actually Elk, and not merely Zarafe pretending to be so. He would also have to assume that they would fire on the Talon if they recognized the vessel.
We could try to run past them, or...
As he stared at the positions of those ships on his aReal, an inkling of a plan began to form.
Jonathan thrummed his gloved fingers on his upper leg assembly.
“These six new ships, they’re manned by AIs?” he asked.
“They would have been, until the pyramid ship and its escorts arrived to activate them,” Barrick said. “Otter says skeleton crews were probably installed.”
It didn’t matter either way, he supposed.
“Tell me something else,” Jonathan continued. “At what range will the enemy Raakarr be able to tell we’re not with them?”
“What do you mean?”
“How are they determining we’re the defecting Talon?” Jonathan clarified. “By visuals alone?”
“There are other identifiers,” Barrick explained. “Something similar to the serial numbers that United Systems vessels use, transmitted with every communication.”
“Have Valor change them,” Jonathan said.
“He already did.”
“Change them again,” Jonathan insisted. “I want something we haven’t used before. Something the Raakarr comm drones we encountered in Prius 3 couldn’t have sent on.”
“It will be done,” Barrick said. “But like you said, there are other identifiers, mostly visual, and once we close to a certain range they will know we are the Talon.”
“Hence my original question,” Jonathan said, feeling a rising sense of frustration. “What is that range?”
“Firing range, basically,” Barrick said.
Jonathan nodded. That would work for what he had in mind.
He wanted to discuss his plan with Captains Rail and Rodriguez, but he felt a sudden overwhelming sense of doubt and turned once more to the telepath.
“You told me you could see the future,” Jonathan said. “Or its possible paths, anyway. I know you don’t want to reveal any specifics, but at least give me a hint. If we fight the Raakarr on the other side of this wormhole, will we win?”
“That would count as a specific.” Barrick frowned behind the faceplate. “But even so, I don’t actually know. I’ve never seen this
particular branching of events.” He sounded slightly afraid. “Not knowing is an odd sensation... I feel disoriented, adrift... like a child wandering in the forest at night, lost in the dark. I haven’t experienced the unknown like this in what seems a long time. It’s a feeling that’s both exhilarating and... disconcerting.”
“Welcome back to the human race,” Jonathan said. “Where the future is an open road, an unknown quality that is what we make of it.”
“We can’t always make our own futures, Captain,” Barrick said. “Sometimes we are hemmed in to the path that destiny has set for us.”
“But you said it yourself,” Jonathan said. “You’ve never seen this particular branching of events. That tells me we’re making the future as we speak.”
Barrick took a moment, as if selecting the words of his answer with painstaking care. “While that may be true, there are certain key waypoints that transpire between events. And while the events themselves may change, such as the winners or losers of the upcoming battle, their outcomes are sometimes relatively unimportant in the cosmic scheme of things. The waypoints, however, those rarely seem to change. We are between two such waypoints at the moment. I have an inkling of what will happen going forward, and it will probably happen regardless of whether we win or lose the coming battle. Even if you or I meet our demise here, that waypoint will probably happen.”
“And is it a good waypoint?” Jonathan said. “Or a bad one?”
Barrick stared at Jonathan for several seconds, then lowered his gaze. “As I told you, it is best I don’t reveal any specifics.”
“But my question is hardly specific,” Jonathan said. “In fact, it’s one of the vaguest I’ve ever asked. Good or bad. All I’m asking for is whether I should bother to hope.”
“That is precisely why I will not tell you,” Barrick replied. “That way you may find hope regardless of whether it’s good or bad.”
“You’re right, I suppose,” Jonathan said. “Because no matter what the future holds, we’ll do our best to deal with whatever comes our way. That’s all we can do.”
Barrick smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes behind the faceplate. “And so it is.”
twenty-nine
Jonathan returned to the berthing area so he could feel like he had some semblance of privacy. On the way he retrieved some of the fresh gruel his Raakarr hosts had left for him in the airlock and then he cloistered himself in the psi-shielded tent to eat it. When he was done, he donned his helmet once more and tapped in Captains Rodriguez and Rail via Dragonfly 1. Audio only. He then explained his battle plan in full.
“I don’t like it,” Rail said when he finished. “You risk the Talon, our prize. The only fully intact alien vessel we’ve captured, complete with crew.”
Jonathan didn’t consider the Talon a prize, nor her crew their prisoners, but Captain Rail had chosen to align with the AIs on that point. Jonathan had ceased debating her and the AIs on the issue, as it wasn’t up to any of them: if the NAVCENT senior command wanted to throw away a potential alliance with an opposing faction of the alien race, that was certainly their prerogative. Perhaps Valor was wise to keep Jonathan as a prisoner. Then again, he doubted his captivity would sway the senior command toward an alliance—it was the promise of technology, and a map of key outposts and colonies in Raakarr territory, that would likely do the trick.
“A better plan would involve the Talon skirting the enemy fleet while the Artemis and Galilei provided a diversion,” Rail continued. “Race her to the Slipstream and seek asylum in the uncontested space beyond. I’d rather you sacrificed our vessels to get the Talon through, than risk its destruction. “
“I appreciate that,” Jonathan said. “But the risk will be minimal. If anything goes wrong, we can simply retreat. The enemy can’t outrun the Talon. Our ship has the same maximum speed as all of their vessels.”
“Unless you take a hit to one of your reactors during the flyby,” Rail said.
“We won’t,” Jonathan said. “Our biggest problem will be convincing the United Systems vessels not to fire on us.” He was being sarcastic, of course, as that wouldn’t prove a problem, not with the corvettes in tow. At least, that was the hope.
“We all know battles are unpredictable,” Rail transmitted. “Fluidic. Chaotic. Plans must change in real time, along with the changing battle space. What seems like a minimal risk to the Talon now, could at any point become a major risk during actual combat. Skirt the enemy fleet, Captain. Let the Galilei and Artemis distract the enemy.”
Jonathan sighed. “Even if we attempt to skirt the main enemy fleet, once it becomes apparent we’re rushing directly toward the far Slipstream, the Raakarr will intercept us. We’ll never make it, not without enduring at least one potentially crippling flyby.” He paused. “Come on, you don’t really want to sacrifice yourself for me. I thought you wanted to testify at my inquiry?” He forced a grin, though remembered at the last moment that she couldn’t see his face.
“My testimony will be useless if you’re dead,” she said. “And anyway, if you agree to avoid the battle, we can transfer the crews back to the Talon and let the AIs mann the corvettes. We won’t be sacrificing ourselves at all.”
“You’d willingly return to the Talon, and essentially submit yourselves as prisoners to the Raakarr?” Jonathan said. “Because that’s what I am, basically.”
“If that was what it took, yes.”
“Another option is to simply remain here and wait it out,” Rodriguez interjected. “Let’s see who emerges victorious from the next engagement. If the United Systems wins, we pass through the Slipstream into Delta Avalon. And if the Raakarr win, we can evaluate the situation and decide what to do next. Maybe human reinforcements will have arrived by then. Or perhaps the Raakarr will have only one or two ships remaining after their victory, and we can easily finish them off.”
“We’d be remiss if we didn’t come to the aid of the United Systems fleet while we could,” Jonathan said. “Waiting isn’t an option.”
“I agree with that,” Rail said. “I prefer some sort of action, rather than nothing. Fly by them, or fight them, but don’t hide here cowering like a vole in its nest while the cats play.”
Jonathan considered his options a moment, then made up his mind. “I’m going to go with my original battle plan. The Talon will not skirt the enemy fleet. All three of our ships will play a part in the coming battle.”
“Wait, what about the cargo container?” Rodriguez said. “We have to ensure it survives, don’t we?”
The cargo container that held the hard-won specimens collected over the past six months had been transferred from Dragonfly 1 to the Galilei when the human crew boarded earlier.
“Even if we lose the Galilei,” Jonathan replied. “Keep in mind that the Artemis has a backup of the holographic drive. As does the Talon.”
“Well sure, but I’m more concerned about the specimens,” Rodriguez said. “There’s no backup of those.”
“Load up the cargo container in a lifepod so you can jettison it if you’ve suffered irreparable damage,” Jonathan sent. “We’ll just have to hope the Raakarr don’t intercept it if it comes to that. Now, if there are no more objections to the plan, I have to run it by Valor.”
There weren’t.
When he discussed the plan a few minutes later with Barrick, the telepath also advocated avoiding combat. Or Valor did, anyway.
“Valor says he wants to make contact with your government as soon as possible,” Barrick replied. “He says there is no time to pursue the enemy. He wants to bypass them and fly directly to the Slipstream.”
Jonathan repeated the same arguments he had given Rail, and after much back and forth, he finally got the Raakarr captain to agree.
He took a few moments for himself in the berthing area while the three ships prepared for the upcoming battle. He sat down inside the tent and removed his helmet to breathe the manufactured air, which was only slightly less stale than inside his suit. It sta
nk slightly, thanks to the open latrine in the compartment. The blue light from the filaments outside was filtered slightly by the tent fabric, making it difficult to see. Even so he was able to swap out his suit’s oxygen canister for a fresh one. When that was done, he lay his gloved hands on his knee assemblies, and listened to his breathing.
I’m almost home, now. Just one more battle and I’ll be back in United Systems custody. When Valor gives me up, anyway.
He almost hoped the enemies would destroy the Talon in the coming combat so that he wouldn’t have to face the board of inquiry. Going down in a blaze of glory was far preferable, in his mind. Far, far preferable.
Come on, Jonathan, it’s not going to be that bad.
Sure, there was a good chance he would be dismissed for his actions, or jailed, but he would endure. He always had.
The blue glow inside the tent became crimson as the filaments lining the bulkheads outside changed color.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Time to fight.
Jonathan donned his helmet and went to the airlock. Escorted by combat robots and mist-cloaked Raakarr, he hurried to the bridge.
“The particle cannon is fully charged and ready,” Barrick informed him when he stepped inside the compartment.
Jonathan nodded. He glanced at the time on his aReal: 0600 hours. Just as the three captains had agreed.
“Commence the operation,” Jonathan ordered.
thirty
Jonathan waited patiently as the alien ship accelerated to eighty percent speed. He had ordered the Talon and the two corvettes positioned far enough from the wormhole so that they would hit their target speeds well before reaching the Slipstream: when the vessels emerged from the other side, he wanted to give the impression that the ships already moved as fast as they possibly could. Restricting the speed of the Talon to eighty percent ensured the Raakarr vessel didn’t outrun the corvettes—Jonathan needed the distance between them to remain constant for his plan to work.