Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

  "Wait a minute," Capt. Thaddeus said. The real-time fusebox transmission reduced the fidelity of his voice, but not his alarm. "We've spread out quite a ways. Our triangulated detensor readings are showing... peletons."

  Peletons were tight, in-line groupings of ships used primarily in downhill to conceal numbers.

  "Say again, captain," Mason said. "Please repeat last message."

  "You heard right, and you know what it means. Here comes the sneakership. AIs are interrogating it." There was a dreadful, eternal pause as Mason waited to hear what could be the fate of an entire system. "Dear Lord, help us." People from Patram didn't say such things lightly, and his heart sank. "Mason, it's bad. Better call an alert. An omega alert."

  Jordahk ran to the bridge in response to Aristahl's urgent summons. What could it be? Hill bottom was still hours away. The double hatch received him in stride. He never thought about hatches aboard the Aurora. He slipped into one of the officer's stations. The Aurora's displays showed a simulated Windermere system.

  "What's this, Pops? Our mystery targets?"

  Aristahl was surrounded by VADs in the command couch. "Indeed. Now that we are close, Aurora has a good look. However..."

  "Yeah, not good news. Not good at all."

  A floor hatch opened to a plat, upon which rose Alb-Sone and Khai-aLael.

  "So, they went ahead and did it," Alb-Sone said.

  "I can't tell who's who, but we can make judgments based on formations and positions," Aurora said.

  Jordahk put it bluntly. "Windermere's getting wiped out."

  There were too many ship indications on the display. More than Windermere should have even when fully reinforced. According to Aurora's time-lapse, the action was moving toward the planet. A larger, invading force was pushing back the defenders.

  Considering they were in manifold space, the picture she painted was rather detailed. Additional flags popped off the largest indicators.

  "I can take a guess at the largest distortions, thanks to Barrister's library update," the ship AI said.

  Two large targets on the retreating side still showed as unknown, although Aurora labeled them as possible cloud cruisers.

  "Cloud cruisers?" Aristahl said. "Difficult opponents when the range closes. These look a bit big."

  "Yes. It's only a guess. The closest match."

  The largest indication on the invading side also showed unknown. The numbers gauging its energy output were rising.

  "That's creating a quite a wake," Alb-Sone said. "I thought you said the big stuff wasn't favored anymore."

  "It is uncommon." Aristahl looked thoughtfully at the indication. "The size of a carrier, maybe bigger."

  Two more indications, close to the planet, were easier to confirm. One was acting as a shield behind which retreating ships were trying to hide.

  "At least they've got battle stations," Jordahk said.

  Other large stations were also present, but their orbits suggested commercial use. An unpowered indication was still massive enough to register, the egress. Another large outlier, not generating the energy distortion of a ship, was labeled "possible staryard."

  Khai inclined her head toward the mammoth invader. "Is that not a large power distortion for one ship?"

  Jordahk focused on the dominating hull. Indeed, its power generation was exceedingly great. Suddenly, it ticked down rapidly, and one battlestation indication winked out. "What the...?"

  "Some sort of occlusion, Aurora?" Aristahl asked. "Interference by natural phenomena?"

  "No, Arh-Tahl. I believe it was destroyed."

  They were heading into a maelstrom. The reality permeated the bridge with heaviness.

  "What's that up there?" Jordahk asked Aurora, indicating a squadron outside the clutter of the system approaching in downhill drive.

  "I cannot be sure yet."

  "Barrister," Aristahl said, "lend Aurora a hand and take your best guess."

  Guesstimates popped up. A squadron of ships at least destroyer-sized. It could be a convoy of haulers. A number of them weighed in as possible cruisers.

  "Whose side are they on?" Khai asked.

  "The invaders don't need the help," Alb-Sone said.

  Aristahl studied the indication thoughtfully but in the end shook his head. "Unless they are Centurions of old, I do not think they can turn the tide for the defenders."

  Jordahk felt like he was in a time capsule, witnessing a pivotal battle in history. But this was happening now. The fall of Windermere.

  A common misconception about space was that most systems had brilliant suns and a variety of planets. It was understandable, for these were the systems humanity focused upon. Of what use were the millions of cold, empty, dimly lit systems? They were noted for navigational purposes on star charts, and otherwise disregarded.

  Windermere played into this stereotypical misconception. It was a bright beacon in the sky for light years around. It was well-suited for human habitation. While not the best in any single category, it was good in most across the board—though some would argue that in one non-crucial category, beauty, it was arguably at the top with Garlande.

  "In times of war, beauty gets trampled," Jordahk said.

  "Who said that one?" Max asked. "I can't find it."

  "I just made it up, but it's true enough, isn't it?"

  "Unfortunately so. I recall Utica Cyr taking a beating."

  From their angle, the system's binary stars were partially occluded by the planet. The small, white star was already out of sight. The blue star, giant and brilliant, was a crescent above dark blue Windermere. It could be rising or setting, but in Jordahk's mind, it was setting.

  The ride in was rough. Aristahl claimed the Aurora could penetrate a gravity well farther in downhill drive than any other ship. Though it got bumpy, and more than a little nerve-racking, he dropped out two hours closer to Windermere than the standard hill bottom. If he had waited much longer, they would have been forced out of manifold space with unpredictable ramifications.

  "We have arrived at Atalantia," Aristahl said over the comm.

  "More like its junkyard," Torious replied.

  Aristahl, Alb-Sone, and Torious raced in the shuttle for the mystic segment of the staryard. It was the only remaining part. The rest was already shipped out except for one segment folded up and rigged to haulers for transit.

  The two old Sojourners insisted their knowledge and experience could be put to best use activating what the Vallum Corps sidelined due to lack of knowledge or skill.

  "Neither you nor I are up to bringing the full capabilities out of Aurora," Aristahl had said. "Besides, the odds look a little long for that sort of intervention. What we need out there is more tonnage."

  Jordahk felt over his head before they even entered Windermere. There was no way he was taking the captain's station. The two officer's stations would do. He was in the left one, with Khai-aLael on his right. They wore no-suits, helmet crystal open and folded back. Jordahk also wore a new sling bag containing the "new, old autobuss," for all the good it would do in this engagement.

  "Look at those, Arh-Tahl," Alb-Sone said over the comm.

  "There is a lot here we recognize, Jordahk," Aristahl replied. "It is dusty, but some may need only a minor touch. We may get help to you right away. Barrister is working on some automation routines."

  Although Jordahk tried to remain stalwart, some trepidation found its way out. "Pops, what do I know about flying a corvette in a fleet battle?"

  "Do not underestimate what your father has taught you. You probably know more about tactics than many of the captains out there. Besides, you are not to dive into the heart of it. The primary mission is to hit targets of opportunity at the edges and prevent breakaway opportunists from smashing the infrastructure, like this staryard. I am counting on you."

  Jordahk glanced at Khai. She looked at him with that confident, minimalist expression. As if she already knew he could do it. "You are of the line."

  "She's
right Jordahk," Aurora said. "Ill help you and obey you to the greatest extent I can. Arh-Tahl has entrusted us to each other, and I believe in his judgment."

  A plat lifted into the bridge behind them. It was the grease monkey, already looking like he was halfway through a repair. "Once more into the breach," he said in uplifting drone.

  "The caretaker is here, Jordahk. This whole yard is waking up. Something will be coming your way shortly. Concentrate on your mission. Aurora and Gasket will help you take care of things."

  "We have done this before," Aurora said.

  "Yup. This ain't our first rodeo," Gasket said in ancient imitation.

  "What's a rodeo?" Jordahk asked.

  Khai looked equally puzzled.

  "An event where—" Max started.

  "Never mind."

  My grandfather and his eccentric AIs.

  Jordahk shook his head, but he did it with a grin. "Try

  not to dent her too much," Gasket said. He began lowering on the plat. "I just got her fixed up, about 200 years ago."

  Pheron's seat was vibrating. The entire hull of the aging frigate whined with strain. The two equally old wing frigates of his fire gruppe were probably experiencing the same wrenching. Commander Moron allowed him tactical control over the four gruppes that made up his moving mothball squadron.

  The scale of this fleet battle overshadowed his at Adams Rush, and that was no small battle on the postwar scale. He had already seen entire ships consumed in seconds. It was bitter and brutal. The unfortunate defenders left at Windermere were good, and they were putting up a solid fighting retreat. But in the end, it was just that. Soon they would run out of room and would have to either fight to the end or run. Either way, Windermere would belong to the Perigeum.

  They had just pushed back three Vallum Corps cruisers trying to flank their side of the Perigeum line. The cruisers had impressive firepower for shooting other large ships, but without escort of their own, his frigates were able to apply significant pressure with "minimally effective counter fire."

  Of course, even a minimally effective counters from a cruiser could mean death to a frigate. Two ships from his squadron had taken significant damage. He jumped into the command net of the worst of the two.

  "There's no way were getting them back, sir," the frigate's harried engineer said. "The middle rings are finished."

  "We need—" An alarm interrupted the captain's sentence. "Our forward shield controllers are shutting down!"

  "We've got plasma leaks all over the place. We've got to cut the pressure."

  Pheron knew the frigate could help no longer. Without significant forward shields, it was just a target. "Drop back, Breixo." Finally, the colliers were arriving back at hilltop. He laid in a course for the wounded ship that took it that way. "Steer new course. We'll cover you for five."

  "Why are you retreating, Xammetrix?" Commander Decard said over the command line. "I want that flank pressured."

  "The Vallum Corps cruisers have retreated, sir," Pheron exercised considerable control. "Further pursuit would jeopardize the strength of our entire wing." He knew this was supposed to be his last battle, but he would be damned if he was going to take the entire squadron with him.

  "Turn around, Gruppe Lieutenant. I want those cruisers strafed."

  If he disobeyed, he would be relieved. Then what chance would his squadron have? Decard would use them as his own personal shield for glory. The best he could do was plot a maneuver that would do the job while giving them maximum survivability. He auto-acknowledged the order with no verbal reply.

  "You're on your own, Breixo. Keep your head down and get back to those colliers. All gruppes, form up. We're going back over."

  An omega alert...

  Capt. Mason Steede of the Adams Rush Navy, commanding the ARN Truxtun, didn't want to go down in history as the only man to call an omega alert in a century. But the deed was done, and history didn't care about your wants.

  An omega alert: Planetary capitulation imminent. Send all possible help immediately.

  The comm ships were off with the desperate message to their Palisades neighbors. For good measure, Mason also ordered them sent to Patram and Adams Rush. Even at double-keeler speeds it wouldn't make a difference. Whatever was going to be in time to help had to already be en route. As far as Demeter was concerned, by the time word reached them, this would all be history. The biggest coup for the Perigeum since the annexation of Raetia.

  He figured they could last a couple more days. Maybe a little longer if lucky. Their long-range shipboard detensors could detect large-scale formations as far as a week out. None, aside from one heavy squadron of unknown origin, were on their way.

  Many ships were coming and going. Civilian haulers, private vessels, and just about anything that could downhill were racing away. A few of Windermere's own frigate patrols and numerous Perigeum colliers were racing in.

  The trimensional nav VAD painted a gloomy picture. He glanced back at the empty seat once occupied by the Iron Commander. The fleet priority indicators changed abruptly. The last packed-up section of Atalantia went from high priority to low. He had been angling their forces to protect it as it crawled away from the battle zone.

  The mothballed mystic section section of the staryard went from no priority to high. He zoomed in a visual. To his surprise, it was teeming with activity.

  The command line activated. "Mason, you seeing the new priorities?" Garwood asked.

  Mason was officially "Field Liaison to the Deputy Polemarkh for Tactical Deployment."

  When did we become so bureaucratic?

  Garwood was no doubt trying to advise Polemarkh Havenaur as best he could in a hopeless situation.

  "I see it. What's going on? Idents from old ships are popping up."

  "Two old-timers came out of nowhere, started breathing life into that place. They've got ancient clearances. Look, I'm not complaining. I don't know if they're Sojourners, and I'm not asking."

  "Sojourners?" The VAD also showed three ships in Mason's formation, a command cruiser and two destroyers, backing off and heading for the rear. "I've got ships dropping off the line. I need that tonnage to hold our withdrawal together. Are you in orbit?"

  "We're boarding the shuttle now," Garwood said. "The Polemarkh's going to rendezvous with his command cruiser behind the egress." Unsaid was that the Polemarkh didn't fly anywhere without an escort. "If I were you, I'd plan on falling back to it. I think that's what he wants to do."

  "You've got to talk him out of it. It's virtually ceding the battle. Once were behind the egress we'll be trapped. Scrunched into smaller and smaller cones of safety until they start picking us off at the edges."

  Polemarkh Havenaur was a cautious man. Maybe that was what got them into this trouble. Mason admitted that wasn't fair. It was Magistrate-elect Van Buren who left things in the lurch. But the Polemarkh went along to get along.

  I don't see a way to win. But I'm pretty sure that's a way to lose.

  "I'm sorry, Captain Steede. Work with what you've got. Official orders will be coming soon. Garwood out."

  This battle was finding new ways to get worse, but he had no time to wallow. "Captain Thaddeus, I've got ships being pulled off the main line. Can you plug the hole with a pocket gruppe?"

  Fuse box communication was audio only, but Mason heard telltales of trouble when Thaddeus answered.

  "We just got rebuffed on a flanking maneuver. It doesn't make any sense. They pushed us back with a squadron of frigates. We smashed up two on the first try, and we just destroyed a couple more outright. It's as if they don't even care about their ships or crew."

  Telemetry coming from the captain's command cruiser showed it accumulating damage just about every way possible. The two wing cruisers were faring little better. The Patram contingent had taken the brunt of the heat since the invasion. On two occasions, he had to pull rank on Thaddeus, ordering him not to leave a delaying squadron of volunteers behind to buy time.

  "Capt
ain, please have your command gruppe join the line. Your presence will help anchor it."

  And it's the only cover I can offer you until we get behind the last battlestation. If we can make it.

  He scoured the nav VAD, looking for anything that may be of use. That's what the Iron Commander would have done. The Demeter contingent, those two strange ships he labeled scattershot trebuchets, were helping anchor the planet side end of his line. It was the space side they were losing control of. A new ship coming up from behind that flank was flagged as "unrecognized friendly."

  The datalattice at Windermere was significant. Was there another warship, like those from Demeter, it had not seen before? Unlikely. He focused the nearest eye on it from somewhere in the fleet.

  "Brown and beige?" The ship AI expanded its search. The colors were sepia and sand. Beuker Space Force. Mason choked on his own saliva. "Beuker? Isn't that in the Perigeum?"

  A few lines of information opened up a million questions. Beuker, never a military powerhouse to begin with, had fallen to the Perigeum during the war. Before Numen. What kind of space relic was he looking at? The detensor was having trouble determining mass, but visual measurements showed something like a large corvette.

  "What is it?" The AI could only flag it as unknown. "I want to talk to that ship."

  Space blurred around them as they sat in their control cocoons. The Aurora was capable of all the maneuvers Jordahk asked of it. Some were quite ambitious, and the ship had yet to unfold from its low profile Beuker corvette configuration.

  He scanned its datalattice for previous maneuvers. With his grandfather at the controls, the ship had operated on a whole different level. Some of the things in memory seemed impossible. Certain systems were linked with maneuvers. Jordahk rubbed his fingers over those inert controls. Just that contact allowed him to feel how they touched the deepest parts of the ship. There were things in its construction, powerful things, he didn't understand.