by Ian Douglas
“Have them see if they can assist the Declaration. There could be survivors. . . .”
But the Decatur was already in trouble. A kilometer-long cruiser built around a massive railgun used for planetary bombardment, she was slamming round after high-velocity round into the oncoming planet, but without any obvious effect. A particle beam snapped out from Romeo One and seemed to graze the railgun cruiser. Bits and pieces of debris floated clear, and the ship began drifting to one side, propelled by the rocket-thrust blast of internal atmosphere and molten metal leaking into space.
Vagsheer was a heavy cruiser, over four hundred meters long and massing nearly eighty thousand tons. She was already maneuvering, positioning herself between the oncoming artificial planet and the ruin of the stricken Declaration.
An eighty-thousand-ton cruiser squaring off against a six-sextillion-ton artificial planet . . .
Taggart didn’t want to watch . . . and yet she had to watch, she couldn’t look away, and she was transfixed by the growing horror of what was happening. The Vagsheer turned broadside to the planet, firing every weapon in its arsenal, including the new 1,000-megaton VG-210 Cobra planetary bombardment missiles colloquially known as planet busters. The name was proving to be more propaganda than meaningful; brilliant flashes sparked and sparkled across Romeo One’s surface, but there simply weren’t enough warheads to do the object any serious damage.
Taggart was doing some fast calculations in her head. Romeo One had a surface area of something just over 46 million square kilometers—about the same as the planet Mercury. The VG-210 could turn a five-thousand-square kilometer patch of desert sand into solid glass. Conservatively, that meant that it would take more than nine thousand missiles to completely fuse Romeo One’s entire outer surface into lava, presumably rendering it dead.
The USNA had . . . what? Maybe five hundred Cobras in its entire weapons inventory? And she doubted that the Pan-Europeans or the Russians or the North Indians had that many more; there really wasn’t that much of a call for those things.
But the Vagsheer was certainly giving it a try. Maybe if enough nuclear warheads detonated against the object’s surface, enough of the surface structure could be disrupted to do some damage. The French heavy cruiser Agosta must have had the same idea, she was moving in closer, adding her barrage to the Vagsheer’s.
But after a moment, Taggart saw that the cruiser’s missile barrage wasn’t even reaching the artificial planet’s surface. That argued that the Cobra warheads were hurting the enemy . . . but only enough to make it shift defensive tactics. All missiles had stopped sparkling and twinkling against that dark gray surface. Now, the surface appeared to blur, to go out of focus, somehow, and the visible explosions had stopped.
“The target appears to be using gravitic shielding,” she reported.
“Confirmed,” Conrad added. “The power reading for that thing is off the scale. . . .”
Shielding—and very powerful shielding—was absolutely vital for starship operations, even apart from combat. Ships inevitably collided with bits of sand-grain debris or atomic particles while moving through the not-quite-perfect vacuum of space, and if those impacts occurred at close enough to the speed of light, they could carry the kinetic punch of a small nuclear weapon. Ships used magnetic shielding to divert charged particles, but they needed something more robust to shunt aside bits of ice or iron massing a fraction of a gram or so, and they also needed a way to deflect non-charged energies, like incoming laser beams. The answer was a form of gravitic projection across the entire outer surface of the vessel, a system akin to the space-bending Alcubierre Drive that permitted FTL velocities. By very slightly warping space around the ship, large incoming particles or missiles could be completely disrupted, and incoming radiation could be twisted away. The blurring of the object was the result of light being bent by the gravitic field.
The missiles being launched from the Vagsheer appeared to be falling into emptiness and vanishing entirely now. Parts of the gravitic field were flashing black or silver in quick, uneven bursts as the defensive screens briefly increased their power in discrete areas, completely disrupting incoming light as well as weaponry.
“They’re using the grav field for propulsion,” Gower reported.
“A true space drive,” Bigelow said, agreeing. “Can we use that?”
“Damned if I see how . . .”
On their screens, the Vagsheer flared in a particle beam and vanished in an expanding, sparkling cloud of debris and frozen water and atmosphere. Seconds later, the Agosta crumpled and vanished.
And then the hurtling artificial world reached the drifting wreckage of the Declaration, which vanished a few hundred kilometers above the object’s surface.
“Who’s next in line for command of the fleet?” Bigelow asked.
“That would be Admiral Villeroy of the Agosta, sir,” Taggart told him. Then she realized that the Agosta had already been annihilated. “She’s gone. I think you’re next in line, Admiral.”
“All ships!” Bigelow called. “Retreat! Break off and retreat! CAG! Cease fighter launches immediately. Order fighters already in space to break off and rendezvous at Point Red Star Alfa!”
“Roger that, Admiral.”
The fleet was already dissolving from an orderly array into separate elements, streaming away from the vast, menacing black mass of Romeo. As the fleet scattered, however, the entire outer surface of Romeo appeared to expand . . . then to explode in a vast and swirling black cloud.
“What the hell is happening there?” Bigelow demanded.
“The outer surface . . .” Gower began. He stopped, confused, trying to understand what he was seeing. “Sir! The outer surface of that thing may be a nanobot swarm!”
The fragments of surface kept expanding outward, becoming finer and ever finer as the pieces continued to break into smaller and smaller particles. Directed through Romeo’s undiminished magnetic field, they began swarming toward the nearest retreating human starships and fighters. Taggart watched with growing alarm. If those fragments were individually programmed, individually directed and flown . . .
Yeah. This could be a weapon far vaster, far more potent than the Confederation nano-D warhead that had vaporized central Columbus a year ago.
The cloud caught up with a fleeing Starblade. The fighter twisted and rolled, trying to evade the relentless pursuit . . . but its hull began to unravel, with fragments flickering off and disintegrating into dust.
“Fire into that cloud!” Bigelow ordered. “Maximum dispersion! Give our people some cover!”
Lexington opened up with all of her lasers and particle-beam weapons, sweeping through the fast-expanding black cloud. The particles and fragments vanished at each beam’s touch, but there were simply too many of them for the tactic to be even marginally effective. Three more Starblades disintegrated under that onslaught. The destroyer Harriman, moving in close to provide cover for the fleeing Earth vessels, got too close and began to dissolve as the death cloud swept past her. The ship twisted away, accelerating, but the cloud pursued it and it was already too late. In seconds, the three-hundred-meter destroyer crumbled away into tumbling fragments.
Other ships were firing into the cloud now as well, adding their firepower to Lexington’s. Taipan and Cobra missiles streaked in from a dozen ships, detonating in great, silent flashes of light. The fireballs expanded through the cloud, eating away at its substance . . . but still the cloud spread out through space, engulfing fleeing warships and fighters and devouring them.
The fleet pressed the attack. Taggart reflected that at least it felt like they were doing something, though the gesture was as empty as had been attacking the mobile planet directly. The cloud already measured trillions of cubic kilometers and was still expanding. The combined firepower of the entire fleet could do no more than inflict pinpricks against something that vast.
And deep within that growing cloud, the artificial planet continued moving forward, implacable, irresist
ible, unstoppable.
“Captain!” Commander Gower warned. “The Guangdong!”
The Chinese heavy star carrier had begun accelerating out from the cloud, picking up velocity at a prodigious rate . . . but the outermost fringes of the death cloud were closing on her.
“Helm!” Bigelow ordered. “Get us in closer to the Hegemony carrier!”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Lieutenant Andrej Nemecek replied. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair with fanatical, white-knuckled strength, maintaining the physical contact with the link feed surfaces and the exposed circuitry on the palms of both hands. Like most shipboard command actions, steering the ship was done in-head, but the stress was showing now in a sheer, physical intensity.
Ponderously, Lexington edged closer to the Chinese warship, now only eight thousand kilometers away. The Guangdong was of a more modern star-carrier design than the Lex, with a blunt shield cap more like the Marne’s than the Lexington’s older mushroom-cap structure, with fluted, organic-looking folds flaring back and around to embrace forward-facing launch bays. Reportedly, the Guangdong could launch fighters three times faster than the older USNA star carriers, and the streamlining allowed her to project a more powerful gravitic singularity that gave her greater speed. The Chinese carrier’s sleek lines were not helping her now, however. Fast she might be, but the death cloud was rapidly overtaking her, eating away at her aft quarter with a relentless and terrifying hunger. “Weapons!” Bigelow yelled. “Put some warheads between the Guangdong and that cloud! Make ’em back off!”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Conrad said. “Readying salvo, six VK-210s . . . targeting, wide dispersion, full megs, and . . . fire!”
The powerful missiles slid from Lexington’s spinal mount two at a time, accelerating at fifty thousand gravities for the relatively short trajectory, skimming past the oncoming Guangdong and into the pursuing cloud. The first pair of explosions, utterly silent, were close enough and bright enough to wipe Lexington’s screen feeds completely, and as they cleared, another pair of 200-megaton blasts flared, dazzled, expanded, faded. . . .
Captain Yuan Jiechi’s lined and haggard face appeared in the minds of Lexington’s bridge crew. “Thank you, Bigelow,” Yuan said, terse. “I think we’re clear now.”
The final two nuclear detonations flashed, grew huge, and died. An instant later, the Guangdong flashed past Lexington, still accelerating. “Don’t mention it, Yuan,” Bigelow replied. “We’re coming about now. We’ll pace you as you come out.”
“Affirmative, Lexington. But watch for the planet! It’s still back there, and coming fast!”
Taggart saw the artificial planet, following the fleeing human vessels, moving now at hundreds of kilometers per second and bringing much of the death cloud with it like vast, outstretched wings of night.
Guangdong was traveling directly away from the mobile planet at high speed, but Lexington had moved past the Chinese carrier and toward the planet, a decidedly unfortunate vector. “Mr. Nemecek,” Bigelow said. “Reverse the helm, please. Now.”
The helm officer nodded. “Aye, sir. Coming about . . .”
The ponderous length of the star carrier, almost a kilometer long, pivoted sharply around the invisible flicker of its forward-projected drive singularity, and then Nemecek began feeding unimaginable power to that artificial black hole, killing Lexington’s forward momentum, slowing the carrier to a trembling halt . . . then beginning to build up her velocity once again. Conrad loosed another salvo of missiles toward Romeo One, then swore bitterly as the Cobra missiles winked out well before they could hit the dark world’s surface.
“Maximum acceleration!” Bigelow yelled. “Goose it!”
Second by second, the star carrier accelerated. “Nano-D is hitting the aft spinal assembly,” Gower reported, his mental voice maddeningly calm.
We’re going to die, Taggart thought.
Readouts in Taggart’s head showed increasing damage aft. Particles as fine as those in a cloud of smoke were taking apart the outer skin of the Lexington’s drive assembly literally atom by atom.
“Increase the metric of our shields,” Bigelow shouted. By increasing the warp to the metric of space around the ship’s hull, it might be possible to hold off the attack.
“Aye, aye, sir!” Gower snapped back. “Increasing shielding metric up to five point oh!”
“Captain,” Taggart said. “We should try to get a sample of this stuff!”
“You want to go outside with a bottle?”
“No, sir. But the fighters might help.”
Bigelow considered this for a moment. “Okay. CAG?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Tell one of the squadrons out there we need a sample of that cloud. If they can get it without being eaten.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The alien technology, Taggart thought, was far too advanced for them to have a chance at beating it one-on-one. But maybe . . . if they understood it. . . .
In any case, it was all they had right now.
VMFA-46, Grim Rippers
Bifrost Space
Kapteyn’s Star
1151 hours, TFT
“They want us to what?”
“They want us to snag a sample of that nano-D!” Salinas replied. “Reighley! You’re in a good position. . . .”
“I’ve got it, Skipper,” Lieutenant Davies called. Banking right, the Marine closed on the cloud trailing out behind the Lexington.
The carrier was badly mauled. Large chunks of her primary drive assemblies had already been eaten away, to the point that Davies wondered if she would be able to transition over to Alcubierre Drive. The drive units were responsible for focusing the gravitic energy into the tiny knot of on-and-off singularity forward of the shield cap. If the drive primaries were damaged, Lexington would be stuck here in the Kapteyn’s Star system . . . and it was damned clear that they were not welcome here.
“Watch yourself, Davies!” Salinas called. “Don’t get into the thick part of the cloud!”
“Copy.” Davies was fiercely focused on juggling his Hornet’s drive, killing its velocity toward the wounded star carrier, accelerating on a different vector to bring him alongside. “Let the Lex know I’m doing a flyby, will you? I don’t want them to mistake me for a hostile!”
“Roger that. They know.”
Closer now. He was trying to stay clear of the tendrils of fog that from this vantage point had taken on the character and feel of a living thing, a beast reaching out with filamentous tentacles in an attempt to snag the Lexington and drag her down, but he would need to dip into part of the cloud briefly to get his sample. Quickly, he explained what he wanted to do to the fighter’s AI and felt . . . puzzlement in response, as though the fighter’s programming wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. Part of the problem was that the Hornet’s outer skin wasn’t designed for elaborate instructions. It had minimal morphing capabilities, could change color, could deal with incoming radiation and low-level kinetic threats, but Davies was trying to get it to do something it had never been programmed for . . . and something the AS-90’s onboard computer had never had to deal with.
Patiently, he tried again. At first, he was trying to get the computer to program the fighter’s outer skin to form a small bottle or box attached to the hull, something that could scoop up the alien particles and keep them sequestered until he got back to Heimdall. Now, however, he tried to convey to the rather limited AI that he wanted the outer surface of the fighter to turn sticky . . . that when it began striking small particles of alien technology, he wanted those particles to stick, allowing him to take them home.
He’d heard of this sort of thing being done before. Centuries ago, in the early days of space exploration, a spacecraft called Stardust had used a surface covered with aerogel, a porous, silicon-based substance that trapped incoming particles of cometary material and interstellar dust, holding them safely until they could be returned to Earth for analyses. Davies tried picturing the Stardust s
pacecraft in his mind, showing the computer the tray filled with aerogel capturing the fast-moving particles of dust.
At last, he felt the AI’s comprehension. At least he hoped it understood; if he was going to put his life on the line to grab some alien nano-D, he sure as hell wanted something to show for it if he made it back out of the cloud.
Accelerating now, he skimmed low over the aft quarter of the Lexington, punching through the thickening cloud and hearing a rapid-fire staccato beat of clicks and pings. In an instant, he’d flashed forward up the carrier’s length, passing the rotating hab modules and bridge tower before swinging wide to avoid the dull black mass of the ship’s shield cap.
“Ahoy, Hornet off our forward port quarter,” a new voice said in his mind. “This is Lexington PriFly. Nicely done! Bring your fighter around and dock in Landing Bay One. They want to see what you picked up out there right away.”
“Copy, Lex. Coming around for a trap.”
“Affirmative. We’re cutting acceleration.”
“Roger that.” Damn. Lexington was going to have to kill her forward acceleration long enough for him to trap in one of the rotating modules . . . which meant those particles would have a chance to swarm over the whole carrier. Could the Lex take it? And that pocket-sized planet was still coming up fast astern, and that wasn’t good at all.
What, he wondered, was so all-fired important about alien ship-eating shit?
TC/USNA CVS Lexington
Bridge
Kapteyn’s Star
1210 hours, TFT
“The fighter is on board, Captain,” Lexington’s CAG reported.
“Good! Full acceleration, Helm!”
“Resuming full acceleration, aye, aye, sir.”
Taggart felt the shudder as the ship came under direct attack. The gravitic shields were holding the worst of the alien attack at bay, but the ship was still taking terrible damage.
And worse, far worse, Romeo One was closing now to within a few thousand kilometers. Lexington had been pulling away, but slowing to take the fighter on board had let the thing catch up.