by Jay Allan
Its forces had everything necessary for the alternate plan, and while the newly-developed tech was still in a preliminary stage, the Regent could not waste time. The humans, against all calculable parameters, had proven themselves capable of victory, even against an enemy as capable as the Regent. Indeed, the old Regent had controlled vastly greater resources than the new one did.
There was no time to wait, no place for carelessness, no valid rationale for ignoring every possible method to defeat the enemy, regardless of the potential of redundancy.
The Regent activated the interstellar net. It would commence the backup plan. Its forces had everything necessary. The prior reports had confirmed that. All it had to do was give the necessary orders.
It located the closest Intelligence of the alpha class, those second in sophistication only to itself. It would take no chances assigning the mission to a lower class of Intelligence.
It sent the pulse transmission, directly toward the target. It gave no explanation. None was necessary. It simply issued orders.
Then it analyzed what it had done. Yes, it had taken the correct actions. It calculated a ninety-four percent probability its predecessor would have waited to see if the trap succeeded. It had not succumbed to the same overconfidence. It had acted at once.
It had learned from the errors of the one that came before it. It had become the superior Intelligence.
* * *
Intelligence B079-A2354 collated reports, coded transmissions from the vessels under its command. It was a large unit, powerful, built of the series just below the Regent. It had the capacity to manage entire galactic sectors, to monitor the operations of a hundred active worlds. Now, it commanded a small flotilla of ships, and a cargo of no apparent importance.
It queried why it had been assigned to such a task when a massive operation was underway. The Regent’s fleets were massing, almost all its strength gathering in the system the biologics called G48, and in the predetermined places en route to that destination, but not the force under the Intelligence’s command. Amid all the preparation for the coming battle, for the trap to be sprung on the humans, there was another mission underway, one unrelated to the coming battle. A backup plan of sorts, another way to defeat and destroy the humans.
The Intelligence had received its orders with something akin to what the biologics would call surprise. It had anticipated it would be directed to join the forming grand fleet, to prepare for the great battle. But, instead, it had been commanded to rendezvous with one of the forward units, to take charge of something.
Something of great value, at least to the Regent. The Intelligence was not privy to the Regent’s plans, nor to the utility of that which it’s vessels now carried to the designated location. It did not need such knowledge. It only needed to obey.
The Intelligence was old. It knew that much, factually at least, if not through data stored in its memory banks. It had been built long ago, when the second Regent had been, to serve the great ruling computer if its activation was ever necessary. It had lain dormant, as had its master intelligence, waiting…waiting in stasis, its awareness dark, save only for the slightest faint spark, little more than a monitoring beacon, awaiting through the endless dark for the signal to awaken.
The signal that had come forty-two years earlier.
It sent out commands, instructions to the lesser units operating the ships it controlled. It knew the destination, but the primary concern was to avoid enemy contacts, to ensure that the security of the research facility was not compromised. The Regent’s orders had been clear in that regard.
The Intelligence still did not understand the need for its mission. It had analyzed the plan for the battle in G48, and it had determined there was almost no chance for the humans to escape a grievous defeat, one that would lead to the inevitable location of it homeworld in a period measured in no more than a small number of their years. The Intelligence’s mission seemed superfluous, another angle of attack against the enemy, one that was not necessary.
None of its analyses mattered, however. Its conclusions had not been requested by the Regent, and it had its orders. It would take the cargo it carried to the research planet, as instructed. Then, it would wait in accordance with the Regent’s directives…and take the revised cargo back to the designated coordinates.
The Intelligence continued to review the Regent’s orders, and the data it received on fleet concentrations, but the Regent’s intentions remained a mystery.
Not that it mattered. The Regent commanded…and the Intelligence obeyed.
Chapter Thirteen
Flag Bridge, E2S Garret
System G24
Earth Two Date 01.27.43
“Approaching warp gate now, Admiral. Lead elements will be ready to transit in…three minutes, forty seconds.”
“Very well.” West snapped the response, staring across the bridge with a sour scowl on her face. The officer had only paused an instant in reporting the time, but the normally terrifying Erika West had become something entirely new, unrelenting, a frozen mask of unyielding granite. Her own pain drove her, to a significant extent at least, but she was also well aware just what she was leading her people into. Every infinitesimal drop in performance she tolerated, any slack at all that she cut the crews of her ships, only increased the chance that none of them would make it back. West, herself was ready enough to face whatever fate the universe had planned for her. She was exhausted, worn down by long years of endless duty and battle, and personal pain that had brought her to her limit. Virtually all that mattered to her, that made life outside duty tolerable, was gone. Now, she wanted only victory…and peace, for the pain to end at last.
But, her spacers had lives and loved ones back on Earth Two, and years to live, with joys and sorrows and experiences almost uncounted…unless she got them all killed. Destroying the target, crippling the Regent’s fleets, that was her primary goal, and if it took the deaths of everyone under her command to achieve that result, then she would sacrifice them all. But, second only to that unyielding determination to secure Earth Two’s future, she would give all she had to ensure as many of them made it back as possible.
Even if they despised her for it.
She would drive them mercilessly, all the way to G48. They could hate her, curse her name, tell their children stories about the terrible Admiral West.
As long as they got back to tell their children stories about anything.
“I want the advanced units on yellow alert, Commander, full passive and active scans as soon as their systems reboot.”
“Yes, Admiral.” The officer turned toward her station and repeated the order sharply, with a cadence more satisfying than that of the last report. Avery Sampson was a good officer, and West had handpicked her to man the tactical station of her flagship. But, that didn’t mean the commander was going to get the slightest bit longer of a leash than anyone else in the fleet. Not on this mission. If the fleet managed to reach G48, if it was able to attack and damage or destroy the enemy antimatter factories, it would be by the slimmest of margins…and there were even longer odds of any of them making it home. West was going to make damned sure her people were as sharp as razors.
“Get me Admiral Strand.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Sampson was silent for a few seconds, though it was the unavoidable delay imposed by the lightspeed limitation on normal communications and not any sluggishness in her own performance. “I’ve got Admiral Strand on your line.” Sampson had served close to West before, but even the experienced aide’s voice had been the slightest bit shaky around the admiral since the fleet had departed from Earth Two. Erika West’s reputation was a longstanding one, but this newest incarnation of the cold, relentless leader was pushing even those who’d fought at her side before to the brink.
“Admiral Strand…I want your ships on the ball once you transit. No slipups, no missing anything. Nothing at all. If you see an asteroid you think is a funny shape, you report it to me. Do you under
stand?”
A few seconds passed. Erika West couldn’t blame Einsteinian restraints on anyone in the fleet, but she thought about it nevertheless as her impatience seethed.
“Understood, Admiral.” Strand’s voice was sharp, perhaps the only one she’d heard over the past few weeks that didn’t sound at least somewhat intimidated by her. Her second in command was a tough officer, if not as cold and hard in demeanor as West herself was. The hero of Strand’s Stand in the last major campaign against the Regent, the forty-one-year-old officer had risen rapidly in the ranks over the past twelve years, assuming the spot as the navy’s second in command when Raj Chandra had retired six months before.
Strand reminded West of Nicki Frette, far too much, actually. She found it very uncomfortable to have a constant reminder of her lost lover around…but Erika West was nothing if not a cold judge of character. Strand was the best combat officer in the fleet—so good that West wasn’t sure which of the two of them was on top. The mission needed the very best, so she’d lured Chandra out of retirement to take temporary command back at Earth Two, and she’d assigned Strand as her exec.
Raj’s reactivation may be a bit more than temporary if neither Josie nor I return…
“Be careful, Josie…we’re getting closer to the target. I expect some resistance before we get there.” The fleet had found scanner buoys in two systems so far. West had ordered the devices destroyed, and their comm drones intercepted, but she was enough of a veteran to know that something had gotten by her. Whatever it was—a stealth scanning probe, a drone that escaped detection, a cloaked scoutship that waited until the fleet had passed before reporting—she was fairly certain of one thing.
The enemy knew they were coming by now.
“Yes, Admiral. I concur.” A short pause. “I’ll be ready.”
West would have preferred to stop the fleet and allow Strand to take a scouting mission through to do a thorough search, but there just wasn’t time. If the enemy knew they were coming, every lost day gave the Regent’s forces more time to prepare for the attack, to move in additional fleet units. With any luck, the attack would still come as somewhat of a strategic surprise…but only if West could get her fleet there quickly. And, that meant cutting precautions down to a minimum.
“Go, Admiral Strand. And fortune be with you.”
Erika West leaned back in her chair and stared at the main display, watching as Strand led two dozen ships toward the warp gate.
One step closer…
* * *
The Intelligence reviewed the incoming scanner data. The enemy was indeed coming through the designated warp gate. The intel reports appeared to be accurate.
The unit analyzed the situation, deploying what limited ability it had to review the Regent’s order. It was a standard sub-fleet command unit, built within the past thirty years, but of a design more than half a million years old. Compared to the enemy’s computers, it was a vast and powerful entity, but its abilities were insignificant next to those of the Regent or the top-level fleet Intelligences. Its purpose was to execute orders as received from higher authority, without question or input.
The enemy forces coming through the warp gate were significant, but limited. It was likely an advance guard, of course, but the Intelligence knew it could have destroyed the entire force if it had been given more fleet units. But, destroying the enemy wasn’t its purpose, nor was even seriously damaging its ships. The Regent’s orders had been clear on this. The enemy was to be allowed to win the fight in the system, to destroy many of the vessels positioned there, and to drive the rest out in retreat.
The Intelligence was to inflict damage on the enemy ships, but only sufficient to appear as though its orders were to try to hold the system, even against overwhelming odds. Nothing was to be done that might cause the humans to pause their advance, or to turn around and halt the campaign. The Regent wanted the humans to advance. The Intelligence’s entire purpose was to convince the enemy the Regent was rushing any resources it could to try to oppose their advance…in essence, to convince them it was trying to do exactly what it was not.
A biologic might have felt frustration at being used in such a manner, as a diversion, condemned to likely destruction, and forbidden even from hurting the enemy too badly. But the Intelligence had been created to follow orders, and it did so without hesitation.
It was time now. Time to commence the attack.
* * *
“Admiral, we’ve got multiple contacts incoming.”
Strand snapped her head toward Midway’s display. The bridge was compact for such a large ship, and Strand’s immediate support crew consisted of four other officers and a pair of guards on duty at the lift entrance. It seemed perfectly normal to Strand, whose career had begun more than twenty years after the fleet had arrived at its new home, but she remembered President Harmon and Admiral West staring around when the ship was launched, seemingly stunned at the compactness of the whole area. The ragged group of humans that had reached Earth Two had grown massively since then, in population certainly, but also in technology. The scientists—and the Mules in particular—had unlocked dozens of secrets from the science of the Ancients, and, among other things, the resulting automation dramatically reduced the crew sizes required to man warships.
Midway was the newest ship in the fleet, a twin to Erika West’s Garret. Named for Terrance Compton’s flagship during the great flight of the fleet from the Barrier to Earth Two, it was almost ten times the size of its namesake, powered by a dozen huge fusion reactors and bristling with weapons that made the old Midway’s turrets seem almost like flashlights. But, the great new ship hosted a crew less than one-seventh the size of its predecessor. Through its corridors, in the almost endless engineering spaces, along the great rows of heavy guns, sophisticated artificial intelligence units and purpose-built robots filled in where men and women would once have served.
Strand focused for a moment on the icons floating in the massive 3D display, the enemy task force she’d found waiting in the system. It was a significant force, but not enough to defeat her advance guard, much less the rest of the fleet waiting beyond the warp gate to transit.
“Battlestations, Commander.” She glanced over at Henri Hercule, nodding toward the officer. Hercule was her handpicked senior aide. He’d been a classmate at the Academy, and his career had been a distinguished one, if not as meteoric in its rise as hers had been. Strand was proud of her accomplishments, but she also knew it had been circumstance that had given her the chance to excel. She’d been embarrassed for years now at the fuss made over the battle that had come to be known as Strand’s Stand, but she couldn’t argue she wouldn’t be sitting in the chair she was in now, wearing stars on her shoulders without that vicious fight in her record.
“Yes, Admiral.” Hercule relayed the command on the fleetcom. Strand had always considered such procedures to be antiquated, especially when the ship’s AIs were listening to every word she uttered, and as good as Hercule was, he couldn’t match the speed of a ninth-generation AI. But, the years had also taught her that the navy was steeped in tradition, and she’d even come to appreciate that, to shed her youthful disdain and accept the ways passed on by those who’d fought in her place before. It didn’t make a lot of sense to have a human officer relay her commands, not in terms of pure logic, at least…but the navy asked men and women to fight, to endure pain and fear, and even to die if need be. A few trappings designed to bolster morale and courage were far from unreasonable, no matter how far technology had progressed.
“Launch a drone back to G24 with a full status report for Admiral West.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“And, I want all scanners on full. We can handle what we can see, but I’m more concerned about what we can’t see.” Strand knew very well the number of ways First Imperium forces could be hiding in the system. Her scanners could root them out, most of them at least, given time. But she didn’t have time. The ships she could see were heading str
aight for her line.
“All ships report active scanners on full, Admiral.” A moment later. “All units report ready for battle.”
Strand nodded. A strange feeling began to take her, part remembrance, part tension. She hadn’t seen any significant combat in a long time, not since the campaign of twelve years before…but the action that had come to bear her name was the kind of thing one never forgot, and flashes of the desperate struggle flashed through her mind. She’d lost a lot of good people that day, and on some level, they were still with her…would always be with her.
“Enemy ships entering missile range in two minutes, Admiral.”
“All ships, arm external missiles, prepare to flush racks.” She’d almost hesitated. Unless more enemy ships appeared, she probably didn’t need the externally-mounted missiles. But, regulations were clear on launching the racked ordnance. It wasn’t the best strategy, after all, for a ship to go into close combat with fusion bombs bolted to its hull.
She watched as the enemy force closed, waiting. The First Imperium ships were outnumbered, but there was a good chance any missiles they sent her way would have antimatter warheads…and whatever the odds, Strand wasn’t about to underestimate the damage that kind of firepower could cause. She needed to do more than defeat the enemy…she needed to get her ships through the fight without any crippling damage. Any ships that had to fall out of the line now would be lost to the campaign. Strand didn’t know what to expect when they reached the G48 system, but she was pretty damned sure they’d need every ship, every gun, they could get.