by Isaac Hooke
“Otter informs me we’re passing through the Slipstream and into Delta Avalon,” Barrick said.
“Tell Valor to set a course for the Raakarr fleet,” Jonathan said. “And have him transmit the prepared script.”
In that script, the Talon portrayed itself as one of the dart ships that had escorted the laser vessel waiting in ambush within Vega 951. Earlier, Valor explained he had recorded the serial numbers of the actual ships escorting the laser, and changed theirs to match one of them so that any independent queries to the Talon’s AI would support that declaration.
In the script, Valor was also to pretend damage had disabled their particle cannon and limited their maximum speed to eighty percent: again, his crew had fed false diagnostic information into the AI so that any remote access would prove their claims.
Lastly, Valor was to assert that a single United Systems corvette pursued them. And he would request assistance.
Valor would do all of that using a mind signature calculated and transmitted in realtime by the AI, a signature based on the captain of the dart ship whose identity Valor had assumed, taken from the archives of the local computer system. It would be like Jonathan transmitting a realtime, computer-generated hologram to impersonate someone else when communicating with his own fleet.
“Initiating communications gamma ray,” Barrick said.
Ten minutes later the telepath announced: “The Galilei has emerged behind us.”
Jonathan was no longer in communication with the vessel and its crew, as they were once more under a strict radio embargo by his order; he had deactivated all comm nodes aboard just to be on the safe side.
However the corvette would be reaching out to the United Systems vessels in the system, just as the Talon had done to the Raakarr. No planets or radiation belts blocked the space between them, so it wasn’t necessary to have any repeater drones strung out between the fleets.
“Have the Raakarr replied to our transmission yet?” Jonathan asked.
“Negative.”
In another ten minutes, Barrick said: “We’re receiving a reply from the Raakar.” He paused. “Otter says they’re warning us that something destroyed their comm nodes near the Slipstream, and they’re not sure what. They want us to be vigilant.”
“That’s a good sign,” Jonathan said. “They still think we’re on the same side. One big happy family. Although, I suppose they could simply be pretending to believe us... there was no answer to our request for assistance?”
“Apparently not,” Barrick said. “But they do want to know why we abandoned the laser ship.”
“Go with the canned reply.”
Which was: we received a distress signal via the comm nodes strung between Vega 951 and Anvil Rappel. When we arrived, it turned out that the humans had captured one of our comm nodes and somehow reprogrammed it. We flew right into their trap. We managed to destroy one of them, but lost our companion ships in the process. The survivor chased us across Anvil Rappel. The humans had hidden a Gate with the help of their shuttles, and deployed it in front of the Slipstream as we grew near. We couldn’t destroy it, because of our damaged particle beam, so we passed through. The lone human ship pursued. And here we are.
“Valor is sending it,” Barrick answered.
Twenty minutes later, Jonathan asked: “Any answer?”
“None yet.”
“Still digesting our communiqué, then,” Jonathan said. “I wonder if they’ll buy it. No ships are breaking away?”
“None,” Barrick replied.
“Looks like we’re going to have to go with Plan B,” Jonathan said.
“How long until the Galilei switches over to that plan?” Barrick asked.
“We have another thirty minutes,” Jonathan told him.
At the thirty minute mark, still no answer had come, and the Raakarr fleet had dispatched no ships to intercept them.
“They still don’t fully believe us,” Jonathan said. “Well, let’s hope what happens next does the trick.”
“Otter says we’re detecting a missile launch from the Galilei,” Barrick announced. “It’s closing.”
Every five minutes Barrick spoke the range. “Fifty thousand kilometers.”
“Forty thousand.”
“Thirty.”
Jonathan clenched a gloved hand. If the Galilei mistimed the explosion...
At the sub-one thousand mark, Barrick said: “The missile detonated prematurely, as expected. Valor is modifying our attitude and course, cutting engines, and venting heat from cargo bay one to simulate damage.”
After the explosion, the Talon was to drift slightly off to one side, but otherwise continue forward at the same speed. Earlier, the ship’s engineers had shut down one of the reactors and installed a conduit between a radiation vent and a duct that led to the cargo bay; a hatch allowed that conduit to open and close, so once the reactor was back online it was simply a matter of opening the hatch and cargo bay doors to make the ship appear to have taken a terrible blow. The crew had also filled the cargo bay with detritus so that a debris trail followed the ship. Once again, Valor had managed to place “organic” material in with that detritus.
“Valor is sending the scripted distress signal,” Barrick said.
Jonathan waited.
At the current distance he knew it would take ten minutes for the visual and thermal information from the attack to reach the enemy, and another ten minutes before any response was perceived by the Talon.
Right on schedule, twenty minutes later three dart ships broke away from the enemy task group, leaving behind the pyramid vessel, laser ship, and two dart escorts.
“They fell for it,” Barrick said excitedly.
“I wish I could share your elation,” Jonathan said. “Because you do know, the battle is far from over.”
“Three ships,” Barrick said, sounding suddenly unsure of himself. “Is that too many?”
Jonathan didn’t answer.
JONATHAN SPENT THE next two days mostly in the berthing area, occupying himself with various VR experiences in an attempt to distract himself while the two opposing fleets closed. During that time, the four ships of the first enemy task unit were apparently content to remain in place, repairing their damage. The human task group on the other side of the system likewise made no change to its orbit.
The Talon and Galilei continued to observe strict radio silence with each another, though the Talon did exchange messages with the Raakarr fleet, mostly to update the approaching craft on the progress of pretended repairs.
Jonathan returned to the bridge on the second day when the range between the opposing vessels dropped to within one million kilometers.
Nothing happened over the next two hours as the ships closed to the one hundred thousand kilometer mark of each other.
As the range continued to decrease, Jonathan remembered his discussion with the captains on that particular phase of the plan:
“They’ll think the Galilei is using you as bait,” Rodriguez had said. “Keeping you alive to lure them in. They’ll be expecting missiles.”
“Then we give them what they expect,” Jonathan had answered. “And something more.”
Several moments later, when only fifty thousand kilometers separated the Talon from the enemy ships, Barrick said: “The Galilei is launching missiles and mortars.”
The weapon trajectories were specifically designed to herd the incoming ships toward the Talon.
“Otter tells me the enemy ships have changed course, but will still give the Talon a wide berth,” Barrick said.
Jonathan couldn’t suppress a feral smile. “For now.”
A moment later Barrick announced: “The corvettes are separating.”
The two corvettes had been approaching in a single line, with the Galilei in the lead, and the Artemis just behind. The reactors of the Artemis had been completely offline so that the pair would seem a single ship with a slightly hotter heat profile than usual.
But with the two s
hips separating, the approaching enemy would realize their mistake.
“The corvettes are launching more missiles,” Barrick told him.
“Good,” Jonathan said. There would be a spread of slugs from the mag-rail point defenses, too, undetectable until the last moment.
“One of the corvettes is breaking off by thirty-five degrees,” Barrick said.
That would be the Galilei.
“Let’s see if the enemy ships take the bait,” Jonathan said.
The Raakarr were known to concentrate fire on those ships that seemed the most vulnerable. A lone corvette, directly behind the Talon, was a tempting target. But tempting enough, given the enemy’s likely elevated sense of caution?
“The three ships have changed course again,” Barrick said. “They’re now headed almost directly toward us.”
Jonathan couldn’t help a rising sense of alarm. “We don’t want them headed directly toward us!”
“I know...” the telepath replied. “But the Artemis, who the Raakarr are no doubt tracking, is directly behind us.”
Come on, Rail. Alter your attack vector...
Several tense moments passed.
“The Artemis has changed course slightly,” Barrick announced. “The enemy ships are compensating. Their closest point during the flyby will now be ten thousand kilometers off our starboard.”
“That’s better,” Jonathan said, feeling the sweat ooze down his ribs.
Thank you, Captain Rail.
“Enemy ships are thirty thousand kilometers away,” Barrick said a moment later. “Eleven o’clock position. The Galilei is swerving back in and firing a fresh wave of missiles and slugs.”
The corvette was performing a tight pincer maneuver, as planned.
“Perfect,” Jonathan said.
Several seconds later, Barrick announced: “Enemy is at twenty thousand klicks. Ten o’clock position.”
“Start bringing the engines back online,” Jonathan said.
“Valor agrees to bring the engines online,” Barrick replied. Then: “Enemy is fifteen thousand klicks away. Engines are back online.”
The three Raakarr ships were close enough by then to recognize the unique repair marks in the hull that betrayed the ship as the Talon, but so far the attackers gave no indication they had made the connection. Likely they were too distracted by what was going on with the corvettes.
In a magic trick, one hand led the eyes of the audience with misdirection, while the fingers of the other hand secretly performed the actual trick, usually right in front of the onlookers.
It was time to set the fingers of the other hand in motion.
“Come about to fire,” Jonathan said.
“Valor is bringing the Talon about to fire,” Barrick replied. He paused. “Apparently the targeted ships have realized what’s going on, and are issuing emergency maneuvers. One of them is turning its nose toward the Talon.”
“Fire when ready,” Jonathan said.
“Valor is firing,” Barrick replied.
Jonathan waited a few moments. “Tell me we got them.”
“We did,” Barrick said. “The Talon split the closest vessel in half. The other two ships fired at the incoming missiles but didn’t get them all. They attempted to dive out of the way, but instead flew right into the path of the incoming slugs. One of the dart craft appears to be completely disabled, while the other is limping away, struggling to change its trajectory. Looks like it’s trying to make a run for the 1-Avalon Slipstream behind us.” He paused. “Valor is turning us around, and ordering a pursuit.”
“What, why? They’re done. We don’t need to waste any more time on them. Show some mercy, man.” He glanced at Barrick. “Tell Valor to show some mercy.”
“He says, it is my ship,” Barrick replied.
Jonathan knew he couldn’t expect to win every command struggle with the Raakarr captain, and he would have to grant Valor leeway at some point. It just didn’t sit well with Jonathan to allow the massacre of a helpless foe.
“Tell him the United Systems frowns on the destruction of disabled enemy craft, and it could affect the peace negotiations,” Jonathan ordered the telepath.
“Valor says he doesn’t care,” Barrick answered.
“Tell him if we capture them, and tow the ships back to United Systems space, that would definitely go over well, and improve his bargaining position.”
“Valor says the Elk will never accept capture,” Barrick replied. “He says they’ll self-destruct before they ever submit, and he is giving them the death in battle they desire.”
Jonathan sighed. He knew Valor wasn’t going to budge on the matter.
There was no point in maintaining radio silence, so Jonathan ordered Dragonfly 1 to reactivate its comm node and that of the telemetry drone, as well as the captured node in Barrick’s quarters.
Jonathan tapped in his two captains. “Rodriguez, Rail. Recall any remaining missiles out there. Our enemy is done.”
“We just passed the disabled ship,” Barrick said. “Valor had the Talon fire from almost point blank range. There’s nothing left of it.”
Jonathan exhaled sadly. Perhaps Valor was doing it to spite him. If he had kept his mouth shut...
No. I refuse to believe I’m responsible for Valor’s summary execution of that crew. He’s right, anyway: in the past, whenever we’ve had a chance to capture one of their ships, they’ve always self-destructed.
With radio silence broken, Jonathan tapped into the 3D display from the corvettes; the lag was annoying, and units flickered in and out of existence, but any sort of battle space representation was preferable to none at the moment.
“So the first part of the operation is complete,” Jonathan sent to his two captains, well aware that the 3D display would increase the communications lag thanks to the bandwidth requirements. “I suppose congratulations are in order. We pulled through that one with zero casualties.”
“The battle isn’t over yet,” Rodriguez replied. “Looks like your Valor friend is hellbent on inflicting some enemy fatalities.”
“I tried to talk him out of it,” Jonathan said. “He wouldn’t listen.”
“I suppose we should escort you to the target,” Rail sent.
“That would be appreciated,” Jonathan responded.
“By the way,” Rodriguez said. “The admiral of Task Group 80.3 is eager to talk to you.”
“I’m sure he is,” Jonathan transmitted. “But tell him he’ll have to wait until we’re done here.” Because the truth was, Jonathan wasn’t all that eager to talk to the admiral in turn.
Jonathan continued to watch the events unfold on the lagged tactical display. The fleeing ship apparently had engine damage, and couldn’t compete with the maximum speed of the Talon. The Zarafe vessel soon caught up and mowed down the enemy—the dart ship didn’t bother to fire back. Apparently their particle cannon had taken damage in the attack, too.
At least Jonathan had confirmation that the aliens weren’t merely pretending to be from different factions: it seemed very obvious to him that they hated each other.
“Ask Valor if we can set a course for the remaining enemy fleet now and proceed with the second part of my plan,” Jonathan told Barrick.
“Valor agrees.”
“Generous of him,” Jonathan said. He tapped in his two captains. “It’s time for phase two.”
thirty-one
Jonathan switched his comm channel over to Dragonfly 1. “I want to send a message to the admiral of Task Group 80.3, audio only. Use the comm nodes in the corvettes as repeaters, please.”
“Yes, Captain,” Dragonfly 1 replied. “I’m ready to record the message.”
“Begin recording.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “This is Captain Jonathan Dallas, formerly of Task Group 72.5. I trust the Galilei and Artemis have filled you in on our situation, and the strategy I propose? End recording and send.”
Because of the distance, it would take seven minutes for the message to reach the ad
miral. The commodore would spend a minute listening, perhaps another half minute to compose his thoughts, then the return message would take seven minutes to reach the Talon.
Jonathan left the bridge and the combat robots and Raakarr guards escorted him to the berthing area. Inside his tent, he removed his helmet, rubbed his eyes, then slid on his aReal spectacles.
What a day. Hard to believe I’m nearly done here. It’s almost time to return. Yes, the dreaded return.
His heart rate and breathing abruptly increased. If he had been aboard the Callaway, Maxwell would have been asking if he was all right. But he was as far away from the Callaway as was humanly possible. There was no AI to comfort him, not anymore.
I’ve done this to myself. I should have stayed in the Elder galaxy. And let Robert or someone else return in my stead.
He couldn’t believe that he was more afraid of the inquiry than the upcoming battle. Then again, he knew the Talon and her corvettes wouldn’t be involved in any major combat role during the next fight. Assuming the admiral agreed to his plan.
He forced himself to clear his mind. He concentrated on his breathing, using a relaxation technique the navy psychologists had taught him in his rating school. He had his aReal project the hologram of a candle onto the floor of the tent, and he stared into the flame.
Dragonfly 1 interrupted his meditation. “A message from the admiral of Task Group 80.3 has been received. Would you like to review it?”
“Not really,” Jonathan said. “But put it up. And please route any future correspondence between the admiral and myself directly to my inbox.”
The AI agreed, and the message began a moment later.
“This is Admiral Wade William Yale of the USS Ptolemy, Task Group 80.3. Yes the Galilei has sent your plan, Captain Dallas, along with two days worth of data documenting your previous encounters with the invaders. I have reviewed much of that data, and it’s consistent with our own observations. It’s good to have independent confirmation that they are actually alien. Some of the stuff in there defies belief however, but you’ve definitely been on an incredible journey, and made some interesting new friends, I’ll give you that. The United Systems is glad to have you back. I look forward to a longer debriefing when we are within range.”