by S. H. Jucha
The fleet imitated the Minimum Risk and transited into a position far outside the target system. They waited for the lengthy time period that telemetry required to update at such a great distance.
When the data was received, Tatia eyed Alex and said, “I don’t get it. The fourth planet outward should have been the sphere’s target planet. It’s the optimal body, if you want to consider that ice ball a resource. What’s the ship doing parked near that gas giant with its hundreds of moons?” Tatia said.
“Waiting for us, I presume,” Alex replied.
“And you were going to tell me this, when?” Tatia asked, rounding on Alex, irritation in her eyes.
“It was a theory that Julien and I were discussing last night. My question for you, Admiral, is this: Does your plan of attack change depending on where the sphere is stationed?”
“No, but —”
“And does it matter that the sphere might have suspected we were closing in on it versus seeing us coming for days, while we crossed space on our approach?” Alex pressed on.
“No,” Tatia admitted.
“That’s why I chose not to complicate your tactics with my musings.”
“Still, it would have been nice to have been included,” Tatia said, unwilling to give ground on the idea that she’d been left out of the loop. Julien wasn’t spared either. He received a glower from her.
More than two weeks later, the last of the scout ships arrived. The six, tiny ships were scattered to positions that ringed the system and lay outside the orbit of the outermost planet. The vessels had no offensive capability but were tasked with determining the sphere’s flight vector, if it ran for it.
Alex and Julien’s consensus was that if the sphere chose to evade a fight, then the possibilities were good it would select a course that wouldn’t launch it toward another probe. The fleet had depended on the sphere’s single-minded pursuit of one probe signal after another. If it abandoned that routine, the Omnians would have little possibility of following it.
While the scout ships took up their positions, Reiko set her forces in motion. Eight Tridents spread out, six taking up positions around the ecliptic and one Trident each approaching the sphere from above and below the ecliptic.
Every individual, human and SADE, was glued to the fleet’s telemetry feeds. Confusing to all was that while the fleet spread out, the sphere never moved.
“It’s waiting and watching,” Z said.
“We’re showing our cards,” Alex added, “and it’s making judgments about the size and capability of our forces.”
“It can strategize all it wants. The fact of the matter is that it has limited options … run now or run after it sends that single bullet ship out to fight and we destroy it,” Tatia said with determination.
When the fleet was ready, Tatia looked at Reiko, “It’s your fight, Commodore.”
Reiko triggered the Tridents’ controllers to execute the battle plan. Depending on their positions, the Tridents were launched in a delayed pattern toward their adversary, the farthest away from the sphere started first, and the others followed so that the eight warships would close on the enemy vessel together.
The crews’ exhilaration gave way to the realities of space travel, even for highly developed technological societies. Officers changed bridge duty shifts. Crews ate, slept, and, when on duty, checked and rechecked their readiness. And still, the sphere didn’t move.
“Maybe the poor thing ran out of power,” Miranda quipped, at one point.
“Or maybe it managed to complete the other three bullet ships it’s been building,” Z commented.
Reiko looked between Z and Miranda, finally staring at Julien.
“If you’re waiting for my comment, Commodore, I have none. I await the outcome of this fight,” Julien replied.
“Now that’s the kind of emotional support I appreciate,” Reiko retorted, giving Z and Miranda a less-than-appreciative glance.
There had been a short discussion between Tatia, Reiko, and Svetlana about holding the OS Liberator back, allowing the other seven Tridents to be at the forefront of the attack. However, Alex heard, and he quickly truncated that discussion.
“Admiral, you haven’t enough Tridents to effectively surround the sphere as it is,” Alex said. “Holding this ship back will allow it wider avenues of escape. Worse, if you keep the other seven Tridents in the same dispositions, but we stay back, then the sphere might opt to come in our direction, throwing the bullet ship out in front of it to run interference. No, Admiral, stick with your original battle plan.”
Despite the greatly increased strength and effective range of the Tridents’ beams, the warships were hours away from beginning the attack, when the sphere made its move. The greatest avenues of escape were above and below the ecliptic, and the Nua’ll sphere chose below.
Admiral Tripping’s flagship, the NT Geoffrey Orlan, was on the ecliptic. Alphons Jagielski’s Trident, the NT Arthur McMorris, was approaching the sphere from above, and the NT Lem Ulam, Bart Fillister’s Trident, was in the path of the escaping sphere.
The sphere accelerated and twisted in half, as had the Libran sphere, exposing its four large ports, evenly placed around the circumference. Soon afterwards, the sphere’s remaining bullet ship exited and sped ahead.
“Don’t let that bullet ship get past you, Captain Fillister,” Tripping ordered. “We can trap the sphere between us, if it’s defenseless.”
“Negative, Admiral Tripping, that’s not one of the scenarios,” Reiko said, isolating her comm to his ship. She was annoyed that she couldn’t direct her comments to the admiral via implant.
Captain Morney watched the blood rise along the admiral’s neck. As it was, Tripping chafed under Tachenko’s command, believing he should have independent operational control over New Terran warships. But to be corrected by an Omnian commodore, during a fight, might have been too much. Morney worried that the admiral was about to commit a major blunder. But, slowly, Tripping regained control and ordered Captain Fillister to allow the bullet ship and sphere to pass unmolested.
As soon as the Nua’ll ship was out of danger, it collected its defensive vessel and sped off into the dark, with the Vivian’s Mirror hot on its vector.
Tripping retired to his cabin and contacted Tatia.
“That was a farce, Admiral Tachenko,” Tripping declared heatedly.
“Commodore Shimada’s call was warranted, Admiral,” Tatia replied. “At best, the Lem Ulam would have destroyed the bullet ship at the cost of its own survival.”
“And then we would have had the sphere at our mercy,” Tripping replied.
“That’s conjecture on your part, Admiral, but Omnians are not in the habit of trading our ships one for one with the enemy. We value our humans and SADEs too much to see their lives spent in that manner. When we have an overwhelming opportunity to take the sphere and its bullet ship down, we’ll attack, but not before then. Do I make myself clear?” Tatia worked to control her temper, but her patience with Tripping was wearing thin.
When Tripping didn’t reply, the metal rang in Tatia’s voice, as she said, “I require an answer, Admiral.”
“You’re understood, Admiral Tachenko. But let me add that I can’t wait for the time to arrive when I’m freed from operating under the Omnians’ foolish manner of conducting a fight with humankind’s enemy. At this rate, we will never defeat the sphere. And who knows how many more are out there?”
Tatia ended the comm and carefully stored the conversation with the hundreds of others she, her officers, and SADEs had collected.
Alex, who had been privy to the conversation, studied Tatia’s worried face.
“What am I supposed to tell Reiko to do, Alex, if Tripping risks his ships and ours in the next confrontation with the sphere by contradicting her orders?”
“What I think you’re asking, Tatia, is whether you should give Reiko permission to withhold our forces from supporting the New Terran ships, if Tripping endangers his Tridents
contrary to her commands.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds rather cowardly,” Tatia replied.
“How do you think it will sound to Reiko and your captains?”
“Much the same way,” Tatia admitted.
“Tripping has his override box?” Alex asked. He’d heard from Tatia of the admiral’s request that in times of crisis, he should be allowed to divorce his Tridents from the conflict. To accommodate him, Z was requested to design a program for the NT warships that allowed Admiral Tripping two functions. He could cut off the Liberator’s controller interface with his ships, and he could shut down his ships’ communication with the flagship.
“Yes, the admiral has it,” Tatia replied.
“I imagine Z designed the interface so that the SADEs can’t interfere with it.”
“Unfortunately, Z did exactly what he was asked to do … create an impregnable procedure. Makes me think I shouldn’t have been so specific,” Tatia said, frustrated with her decision in hindsight.
“I think we’ll have to wait and see what happens, Tatia. Right now, I’m interested to see if we will get another shot at the sphere.”
Alex and Tatia exited the admiral’s cabin and returned to the bridge. Reports were inbound from the squadron and the scout ships, as to the vector the sphere was on when it exited.
“What do you have, Julien?” Alex asked, as he passed through the bridge accessway, noticing a small group had formed around the ship’s holo-vid, studying the telemetry data.
“Vivian’s Mirror was able to align itself directly behind the sphere for several moments before it exited this system’s space, giving us a highly accurate fix on its vector.”
“Any alignments with probes?” Alex asked.
“None,” Julien replied. The SADEs had mapped the probes in the area when the warships had entered the system.
“None?” Reiko asked, disappointed that the one opportunity to capture or destroy the sphere might have slipped through their hands.
“Unfortunately, not, Commodore,” Julien replied, “but there is an opportunity.”
“Give us good news, Julien,” Tatia encouraged.
“The sphere’s vector aligns well with a blue white star.”
“Which doesn’t have a probe signal?” Svetlana asked. “I’m with the commodore on this. How is that possible? Every system we’ve investigated has had a probe. Why wouldn’t this star have one?”
“Possibly due to the inevitabilities of space,” Z replied. “It’s logical that there would be accidents that would damage the probes, or there could have been a component failure that prevented this probe from communicating. In the latter case, it might be there but be silent.”
“What’s important to note is that this star doesn’t produce a Nua’ll signal, for whatever reason,” Julien said, looking at Alex. The two of them relived the conversation the night they sat together at the rear of the bridge, discussing the Nua’ll sphere’s possible moves, when its enemy caught up with it.
“We’ve surmised the Nua’ll have determined they’re being followed,” Alex said quietly, “which means there’s a good chance we’ll only get one more shot at them. They’ve jumped to a star without a probe. If we miss them there, it’s highly likely they’ll transit to open space and continue to move until they’re sure they’ve lost us.”
“It’s inevitable the dastardly dear ones will communicate to other spheres about the big, bad aliens who hunt them and how they’re using the probe signals against their ships,” Miranda offered.
“Which should lead them to augment their probe programs or change tactics entirely,” Z surmised.
“They might have already communicated the message that Miranda has suggested,” Svetlana said.
“Hopefully, they haven’t yet,” Alex said, “but you can be sure that eventually they will.”
“If you’re correct, Alex,” Reiko started to say, before she caught the expressions on the faces around her. “Okay, let me rephrase that,” she said, which garnered a few snickers, “using your hypothesis, Alex, it would be smart not to transit right behind the sphere. We’d find it in open space and lose it. Perhaps, we should wait and give the Nua’ll time to relax, if they can do that, and investigate the system. That would, at least, give us a chance to trap it in a gravity field.”
“I agree, Commodore,” Alex replied. “Julien?”
Julien briefly consulted with Z and Miranda. Afterwards, he smiled and said, “I’m suggesting four days, Z is arguing for ten, and Miranda believes that trying to understand the aliens’ level of concern over whether they might be followed and what they might do next is a futile exercise.”
“Consensus not so easily reached,” Renée quipped. She’d been quiet, while others struggled to determine a new strategy. “We started destroying probes about two-thirds of a year ago, and we’ve been eliminating them behind us, as we followed the sphere. If Alex is right,” she said, grinning at her tease, “why did these technologically advanced aliens take so long to change their habit? I can tell you in two words … the Confederation.”
“Interesting insight,” Alex said, nodding his head in agreement.
“Translation?” Tatia asked.
“We’ve surmised by the extent of probe distribution that we’re dealing with an ancient civilization,” Renée replied. “I offer the Confederation as an example of a highly developed civilization that has enjoyed seven millenniums of unimpeded growth. Of course, you’ll note how elastic it is in adopting new ways.”
Renée’s comment generated murmurs and grumbles from the ex-Independents and SADEs, who’d all suffered under the Confederation.
“If the Nua’ll are a much, much older race, they’ll be holding on dearly to their methods, which have worked for them for who knows how long,” Renée said.
“We’ll wait four days, Admiral,” Alex said, accepting Renée’s logic. “Then we follow.”
* * *
“Admiral, a moment of your time, if you please?” Reiko asked, after the evening meal ended. In one more day, the fleet would exit the system and transit to follow the sphere.
“Admiral, you’re being too careful with our forces. Either we want that sphere, or we don’t,” Reiko said, once the door slid closed on Tatia’s cabin.
“I think we can dispense with the titles, Reiko. What are you proposing?”
“Following Alex’s logic, we’ll have only one more shot, if that, at the sphere. More important, if it hasn’t broadcast what it might have discovered about our activities, I think it’s crucial that we do whatever is necessary to destroy it or, at least, prevent it from communicating.”
“I don’t disagree with your reasoning, Reiko, but I’m still waiting for your proposal.”
“With our present strategy, Tatia, the sphere has too much room to slip past our squadron. If we want to prevent that, we have to commit the fighter squadron.”
“Our travelers are no match for the bullet ship, whether they encounter it one on one or even four or five to one.”
“I don’t disagree, Tatia. Our fighters will have to swamp the bullet ship, and we can expect losses. But, if we eliminate the sphere’s last defensive ship, it will be forced to flee.”
“And how does risking our people in a close fight with the bullet ship help us trap the sphere?”
“Did you notice the distance that was kept between the sphere and the bullet ship the last time we encountered it compared to the vids from the Ollassa system?”
Tatia pulled the files from the ship’s controller and ran a comparison for herself.
“In the Worlds of Light, the sphere allowed the two ships to extend several times farther out than when it had a single defender in the last system,” Tatia commented. “The Nua’ll are getting nervous about their protection. They’re keeping it close.”
“Agreed … close enough for us to make use of that,” Reiko replied.
Tatia thought through what Reiko was proposing and replied, “You’re thi
nking that when our travelers eliminate the bullet ship, there will be a large arc of exit denied the sphere because of the fighter group’s close proximity.”
“In a manner. Look at this,” Reiko replied. She activated the table’s holo-vid and ran a simulation. “Julien helped me create this program using accurate figures.”
Tatia watched the squadron close in on the sphere. Naturally, it chose the path of least resistance, with its bullet ship leading the way.
“What am I missing, Reiko? This scenario doesn’t work.”
“No, it doesn’t, Tatia, because it employs the same approach with the squadron that we were anticipating using, and it doesn’t give us an opportunity to independently attack the bullet ship or the sphere. But, what if we did this?” Reiko asked, and sent a second simulation to the holo-vid.
The squadron came at the sphere from above and below the ecliptic, dominating much of the escape opportunity. Left open were the paths across the ecliptic.
Reiko froze the simulation, adding, “Where we discover the sphere within the system will depend on how we structure our attack. We’ll need detailed advanced telemetry.”
“You want the scout ships to secure the telemetry and return to the squadron.”
“I want one scout ship to transit far outside the system, gather the data, and then return.”
“That amount of delay runs the risk of delivering outdated telemetry to us, Reiko.”
“It can’t be helped, Tatia. We can’t afford to scare the Nua’ll away. And, even if the sphere’s position has shifted within the system, this scenario,” Reiko said, pointing to the holo-vid display, “should easily adapt to the new sphere’s position after the squadron arrives in system.”
“What’s the rest of the plan, Reiko?”
“Watch this final scenario, Tatia. In this one, we’ve scouted the system and determined the best vectors for attack and ambush.”
The latest display showed the squadron entering far outside the system’s space. The entire fighter group exited the Tridents, their velocity imparted by the warships. Then the Tridents executed a double transit to position themselves above and below the ecliptic, trapping the sphere between them.