by Will Crudge
“Should I pipe my feeds down to the carriers?” The agent asked.
“Why are you even asking?” Tyler chastised as he raised his right eyebrow. “You know the ships are depending on STC scanners for SA!”
The agent’s mouth quivered as if he were going to say something, but then he grabbed his headset.
Idiots have gotten soft! Tyler thought to himself while watching the agent pass along the data. He then crossed his arms, let out a slow sigh, and then began tapping his fingers on his right bicep. The spec ops armor on his arm made for an excellent percussive surface, he supposed.
“Sir!” A female’s voice bellowed out from across the room. Tyler lazily rotated his head to see who it was. He saw a tall blonde woman standing up from her console and waving her hand. He found that the STC uniform hugs her natural curves nicely, and he thought he might try to get to know her better when the operation came to a close.
Tyler made his way over to her swiftly. She had her lips pursed and he could see the muscles in her cheeks flexing. Something is obviously upsetting her. He thought.
“Go ahead, agent.” He said.
“I’ve detected a data burst transmission with UAHC fleet signatures, Sir.” She said.
“I’m not surprised at all.” He said with a dismissive huff. “I’m afraid it will take a long time to crack. By then the intel may be useless.”
“The fact that I’ve already cracked it is why I’m concerned, Sir.” She said as her mouth seemed to twitch.
She’s no dummy. He thought. “That is disturbing.” Tyler paused and began to rub his chin.
“Either it’s an attempt at disinformation, or they’re trying to reach out to someone that may not have UAHC coms capability.” She stated firmly.
He locked eyes on her and studied her for a moment. “Go on.” He said.
“The contacts at Gate Three are Unum. It’s likely that the UAHC has dialed back their encryption to ensure their allies get the message.” She explained.
“That seems like the most logical scenario, agent. Excellent supposition!” Tyler said with a hardy nod of approval. “Do you believe it’s still a ploy?”
“I think it can’t be readily dismissed. So we can’t afford to ignore it.” She said, but then she broke eye contact for a moment and her posture shrunk slightly. “But that’s just my analysis, Sir.”
He studied the woman’s mannerisms for a moment, and he concluded that she had a firm grasp on the situation, but she feared that she may be wrong. Tyler felt more confident about her analysis than she apparently was.
“Where is the point of origin?” Tyler asked.
“I’ll show you, Sir.” She said as she pivoted back into her seat and lowered herself down. She brought up a scan display, and pointed to a point in space outside that was thirteen hundred kilometers from the closest taxiway. “Here it is.”
“That’s restricted space, isn’t it?” Tyler asked but didn’t take his eyes off of the screen.
“Yes, Sir.” She nodded in agreement. “We’ve had reports of gravity fluctuations in that area. It never seemed to effect station operations, but it’s been restricted for decades.”
“And you don’t think it’s odd to have a hyper gate station this close to a gravitational anomaly?” Tyler asked rhetorically as he squinted his eyes at her.
“Uh, I….” She began to speak, but something caught her attention. She began to work her controls like a maestro on a grand piano.
“What is it?” Tyler said as he darted his eyes back to the screen.
“Holy fuck-sticks!” She blurted out in a gasp. “It’s a hyper gate!”
Tyler looked beyond the tip of her finger as she pointed at the display. The visual feed zoomed in on the ring-shaped structure. He could feel the blood draining from his face as the sight of UAHC capital ships began to transition through warped space-time. A moment later he took a sharp breath, released it, and then forced his feelings of dread aside.
“Alert the reserve squadron!” Tyler ordered loudly. The order wasn’t directed at any one person in particular, but he expected an immediate response from someone… anyone.
“Raising them on comms, Sir.” She responded. Just then, it had occurred to him that he never caught her name… But that was relevant to him at present.
“Response?” Tyler asked.
“Squadron commander acknowledges, Sir.” She turned and looked at Tyler. He locked eyes with her, only to find her donning a slight smile. “Allyson.”
“What?” Tyler said while squinting his eyes.
“My name is Allyson, Sir.”
“Well, Allyson…” He said as he stood up straight and crossed his arms. “Finally a name worth remembering. It’s good to know there’s at least one other person in this tower that isn’t a complete idiot!”
Not Without Sacrifice
Location: UDF Gunship, Slugger, CIC, Forge Station
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 2210HRS Unum Standard Zulu
System: Forge Controlled Space
The CIC lighting flickered under the strain of heavy beam fire. The beam generators were running at one hundred forty percent output, and the reactors were struggling to keep the rest of the ship’s systems from failing.
Melvin knew the Slugger wasn’t the only ship on the brink of power failure. Every ship in the Unum formation was concentrating their combined fire on the incoming SK’s. The SK’s – Ship Killers – were rated for attacking larger warships than an Unum gunship. They boasted anti-energy shield pulse generators on the tips of their warheads, and the warheads themselves had delayed fuses. This design was intended to punch a hole in any light-to-medium energy shielding, and allow for the explosive charges to detonate against a ship’s hull.
“Give me a SITREP, Simon!” Melvin scowled as he tried to make any sense of the visual feeds.
“Brace!” Simon replied, but Melvin barely had time to realize that the AI had used the ship-wide audio net. Without thinking, Melvin found himself hunched over the command console as his fingers flexed to grip the lips of the tabletop.
The entire gunship shuttered as Melvin was lurched from his console and flung through the air. He felt the weight of a planet collide with him all at once as he slammed into something very hard. He heard the cracking of armored plating, and felt a surge of pain slam into his awareness all at once.
Moments later his eyes opened, and he found himself looking at the base of some metallic construct that seemed to jut out from the wall. His awareness quickly caught up to him, and he realized he was on the deck plating lying chest down with his head cocked to one side. The metallic construct was actually the base of the command console, and the wall it was attached to was merely the same surface he found himself on… The deck.
He felt no pain, but he knew it was his armored suit applying med-nano and pain killers. His internal HUD flashed with a myriad of medical warnings, but he ignored all of them. He had a crew to consider… His health would have to wait, he decided.
With a single heave, he pushed himself up from the floor, and managed to get his legs back underneath him. Dorman! He thought to himself. Where is she?
But when he found her seconds later, his worst fears had come to pass. He had to adjust his eyes amid the flickering light, but he already knew it was too late. He saw a chunk of steel had sheared off of a nearby bulkhead support, and had lodged itself into the woman’s eye socket. He didn’t bother checking for an exit wound. It appeared as if she tried to turn and flee from her station in panic, but the support steel hit her head-on when she turned away from her console.
The blood spatter all over her display was self-evident. Her body was limp, but she hung there as if in mid-stride as her body was being supported by the wrecked steel beam that stretched horizontally from the bulkhead.
Melvin decided he had no time to grieve. “Simon! Damage report!”
“Slugger’s hull has multiple minor breaches, but the atmosphere is holding. Energy shields are at
fifty percent and climbing. We have three crew deceased, and at least a dozen injured. Weapon systems and life-support are still operating nominally.” The AI replied quickly.
“Initiate damage control Protocol Bravo!” Melvin said with an authoritative tone as he rushed back to his command console. “And get me Dorman’s off-shift counterpart, now!”
“Protocol Bravo is underway, but the major’s counterpart is KIA as well, Sir.” Simon answered.
“Fuck!” Melvin said as he slammed his fist into the bulkhead adjacent to him. “Fleet status?”
“Twelve cutters destroyed, thirty one disabled, and three gunships are unaccounted for… Analysis suggests that their captains deliberately sacrificed their gunships to protect the cutters behind them.”
Melvin felt his heart sink. I will not let their sacrifice be for nothing! He thought to himself. “Alright, Simon… Alert all CIC’s… We’re going to blaze a path to the far-side of this station, and we’re going to drag Hell along with us!”
Playing the Numbers
Location: UAHC Drone Dreadnaught, Broadsword, CIC
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 2210HRS UAHC Standard Zulu
System: Forge Controlled Space
“New contacts!” Wilkins sounded off.
“Location?” Olaf asked.
“Sending to your console now, Admiral.” Wilkins said as he turned his eyes towards General Estrada. Estrada was standing to the left of the command console with his arms crossed and his soggy cigar thoroughly chewed. Wilkins realized that Estrada must have known he was being stared down, and the general turned to lock eyes with him.
“Pay up, General!” Wilkins said with a wide smile and an exaggerated wink. Estrada dropped his arms to his sides and the cigar nearly fell from his mouth in the process.
“Like hell, you called it!” Estrada said skeptically as he pointed at Wilkins and shifted his weight forward as if to lance the Lieutenant Commander in the face with his finger.
“Seriously?” Howard chimed in. “We are exchanging beam fire with a flotilla of Crimson Destroyers, and you two are playing childish games!”
“At ease, Howard.” Olaf said without taking his eyes off of the screen. “Betting money on it or not… Wilkins prediction is dead on. Good call, commander!”
“Thank you, Sir.” Wilkins replied, but he kept his eyes on Estrada as he said it.
“Fine!” Estrada said with a quick roll of his eyes. “If we survive until Tangine, then meet me in my quarters and I’ll pay up.”
“And thank you, Sir.” Wilkins said with a wink.
“Alright, you two…” Olaf said as he waved the two men off with his hand. “Howard? Give me a scan on our new guests.”
“One moment, Admiral. It would seem our port scan array has been hit… Pulling in multi-source data from the secondary and tertiary sensors.” Howard replied.
“Don’t give me the birth pangs, just give me the baby!” Olaf scoffed.
“Um… What?” Howard asked.
“Just give me what you’ve got… I don’t care how you get it!”
“Oh, I see. Sorry, Sir.” Howard responded. “Looks three heavy cruisers, ten light-to-medium cruisers, and a full human-flown fighter squadron.”
“The fighters… Mark-4’s with Mark-6 loadouts?” Olaf asked.
“No, Sir. Mark-5’s with standard loadouts.”
“I confirm Howard’s assessment to the letter, Sir.” Wilkins answered up.
“That can only mean one thing… Crimson Agents.” Estrada chimed in as he spat out a nasty globule of affectionately chewed cigar.
“Well we already knew the station was subverted by those red-armored fuck-sticks, but these guys are paramilitary. If they’re using their own Agency ships and fighter squadrons, then that must mean they have more of a presence on-station than we initially thought.” Olaf said.
“Not for long.” Estrada said as he slapped a less-dilapidated cigar into the corner of his mouth. Olaf just gave Estrada a wave, as if he knew the man was about to leave. There was nothing that needed to be said. Everyone onboard knew what needed to be done.
“General, where are you going?” Howard asked as the large Soldier almost made it to the exit.
He stopped and turned his head to speak over his shoulder – as if the AI weren’t omnipresent. “The Admiral has a mission. Now so do I.” A moment later, Estrada was gone.
“What’s happening?” Howard asked.
“Does us no good to bypass a station when the enemy presence is so prevalent. All we’d do is expose ourselves to a counter attack if they’re hiding anymore ships in the station’s berthing units. The General is going to take his marines and ground-pounders to keep them busy. It’s the only way we can make it to Tangine in time to have any positive effect in the battlespace.” Wilkins clarified as he kept working at his own station.
“I see.” Howard said.
“Now how’s about we focus on the task at hand, K?” Wilkins said.
“Yes – Oh, dear…” Howard began to speak, but something seemed to catch his attention. “Two of the heavy cruisers, and seven of the smaller ones have broken off from their intercept pattern!” Howard reported.
“Looks like the Crimson cracked the data-burst we sent, Sir!” Wilkins directed his word towards the Admiral.
“Very well, Commander.” Olaf said calmly. “We knew they can press shiny big buttons, but now we know that these Crimson morons know how to read!”
“Aye, Sir.” Wilkins replied. “Howard, can you lock the helm into my neural interface, or is this bucket’s flight controls too ancient for that?”
“I certainly can, commander.” Howard replied with a gleeful voice.
“Do it!”
“Alright, Wilkins.” Olaf chimed in. “I’m sending you my maneuver guidance, now. Package three alpha. Let’s chase down the remaining heavy cruiser as soon as the others have committed to a full burn!”
“On it, Sir!” Wilkins responded as he could feel the connection of the flight controls begin to negotiate with his own neural interface. It started as a mere tingle, but then it grew into a full vibrating sensation that crept up and down his spine. The sensation began to pulsate with an ever increasing frequency, and the lines between man and machine began to fall away. After a full surge of chills up Wilkins’ head and neck, the sensation dissipated altogether, and he was now out of his own body… his biological one, at least.
He was now one with the massive dreadnaught. He could feel every square centimeter of hull, ever cubic meter of atmosphere, and the biological feedback from every one of its crew. Space and time flooded into his awareness, and the sensory overload was causing him to feel panic. Holy shit! He thought. He figured that he was now experiencing what it was like to be a ship’s main AI.
Howard’s assertion made sense to him. This wasn’t the first time he’d merged with a spacefaring vessel, but it was certainly the first time he’d merged with anything larger than an unarmed fighter under training conditions. Archaic as the dreadnaught may have been, the raw processing power and sensor arrays were exponentially more massive than what he was prepared to experience.
Wilkins never even thought of that. He figured the overwhelming surge of stimuli was a result of being merged with far more than was necessary for the task at hand.
It
didn’t take a nanosecond for the veils of stimuli to lift. It was as if he’d stepped out of a loud rock concert, and into a silent meditation room. His clarity and focus was now clearly tuned into helm control, shield generators, and weapons systems… and something new.
But in the realm of ultra-fast processing space, Wilkins knew the answer before Howard even came close to finishing the answer. He could read and understand the entirely of the data files within the system.
He instantly understood that there were three successive layers of disposable reactive armored plates that wrapped around the formidable hull of the mighty ship. Each plate was approximately one meter squared depending on its individual location on the contours of the hull. When any missile, sabot round, or even armored piercing shaped charge projectile struck the armored surface, explosive charges within the armor would detonate outward, and thus slow down or negate the inertia of the incoming kinetic energy. The system was incredibly effective, fell out of use centuries earlier when energy shielding technology had become more effective. Energy shielding was vastly more cost-effective than thousands of square meters or armored plating… armored plating lined with explosives.
Wilkins would be smiling if his biological form wasn’t limp and being held up by his powered armor. His consciousness was now floating in space, and his body was a mighty warship!
This reactive armor might give us an edge. He thought to himself, but then cleared his mind a second later. He focused his mind on the task at hand.
He drew in the maneuvering guidance that the Admiral had provided, and he now understood the full scope of his commander’s intent. He also knew how much latitude he had been delegated to make autonomous decisions. He was ready to soar through the cosmos, and spill blood at will!