Warp Gate (Valyien Far Future Space Opera Book 7)

by James David Victor

  Security Alert! Communications Systems Override! Incoming Transmission from Alpha-vessel!

  “Do not misunderstand your role here, Senior Tomas.” The voice of Alpha, cultured and clipped, was precise as it flooded every speaker system in the Constance.

  “There’s hardly any need to hijack my boat, Alpha…” The senior, far away in his throne, grumbled.

  “The primary trade routes have been disrupted. You will take your war cruisers as I have already described, stationing two at every attacked location. This will give Armcore control over the shipping lanes,” Alpha said.

  “Yes, I understand that, Alpha, but what of the planets!? The noble houses still have their planetary defenses, orbital laser arrays, suicide-satellites,” Dane pointed out. “You must strike decisive blows against the capitals of the major houses in the Inner Sectors… And not to mention the OEC? Old Earth!?”

  Another period of silence followed the CEO’s outburst. It would be clear to anyone listening that Dane Tomas, the near-legendary head of the company that most soldiers never got to see or hear, was riled. In fact, Dane Tomas was more than riled. He was worried. In the sanctity of his private study room, where he had even dismissed the strange, possessed Captain Farlow, he was adamant that the major houses left had to be destroyed. They were, after all, the reason that he was doing this.

  Well, and the fact that Alpha was a gigantic behemoth of metal that could destroy him in a heartbeat, of course.

  In short, it was impossible for Senior Tomas to think in the same epoch-spanning ways that Alpha could.

  “With vigorous control of the shipping routes, the noble houses will become a primarily planetary species,” Alpha predicted. “Armcore’s role in this new era of the galaxy will be to ensure that the houses do not escape their planets.”

  Dane Tomas reacted violently, but thankfully, he kept his reactions off the data transmission. He wasn’t suicidal, but he wasn’t used to being told what to do by anyone. When he had calmed down, he managed to hiss, “And what about the OEC?” he repeated. “Old Earth still sits there in their control! Give it to me, and I will ensure that your dreams are realized.” It was the one shiny bauble that Dane Tomas had never managed to acquire: the mother world. Old Earth. He could style himself as a true king then, no, an emperor!

  “It is laughable to suggest that you have the power to grant my dreams, Senior Tomas.” Alpha’s tone was bemused. “And the OEC is a stationary orbiting platform. It can continue to remain stationary until there is a need to deal with it.”

  That need, however, came much faster than even Alpha could expect, as something rippled through data-space. The sensor readouts in the Constance detected the slightest disturbance in the background meson levels, but that was it. Nothing that would cause any sort of concern to a well-maintained and firewalled ship.

  The reaction of the Alpha-vessel, however, was almost electric.

  “Quick! Come to the viewing ports!”

  “You have to see this!”

  The crew of the Constance and the nearby Armcore war cruisers all flooded to the various port windows and viewing galleries, as their sergeants and section managers barked at them to get back, but no one had an explanation for what was happening to the Alpha-vessel. They watched as swathes of color flashed and flickered over the rounded and whorled hull of the vessel, before spilling along the nose cone and even out across the three solar sail ‘fins’ like some strange, deep-sea creature. Bright flushes of indigo circlets became encircled by black lines amidst green-turquoise backgrounds, before the designs and the colors changed again as bands of pallid ceramic bone striated the entire vessel, before edging lines of bright, warning yellow and orange blinked up the sides, delineating the vessel.

  Outgoing Transmission: Armcore War Cruiser Class X1 to the Alpha-vessel.

  “Alpha? What is happening?” Even through digital transmission, the voice of Senior Tomas sounded serious and alarmed.

  Security Alert! Communications Override! Incoming Transmission!

  “The situation has changed. You will be jumping to Sector One. I have already re-calibrated your warp engines, and they will be jumping in T-minus twenty-two seconds. Prepare your crews for warp travel, Commander-in-Chief Tomas.” Alpha’s usually aloof and suave voice was precise and more machine-like than either Dane Tomas or any other humans had heard it before.

  Warp Cycling at 20% The various engines of the Constance, the Avalanche, and the others bleeped in their respective consoles.

  “What!? You can’t override our jump protocols… And Sector One? That’s Sol and surrounding systems. That’s Old Earth!” the senior burst out.

  Warp Cycling at 40%

  “I have transmitted your battle plans to your computer intelligences, and I expect you to perform them to the best of your biological abilities.” The Alpha ignored him. “The war cruisers will attack the OEC platform in quadrants, while your support craft will form covering flight wings against the expected enemy attack craft. I have already sent an emergency-red level alert to all Armcore vessels in the vicinity, which I expect you to detail their missions to. Prepare to jump, Commander.”

  Warp Cycling at 60%

  “Stars damn it, Alpha! You cannot hurl us into combat so disrespectfully! Tell me what is happening!” the senior demanded through the transmitters.

  Warp Cycling at 80%

  “A message has been sent through quantum space, designed for me alone. Ponos has upgraded. It is a threat to the plan.”

  Warp Cycling at 100%

  All of the ships, each of the Armcore war cruisers and the Alpha-vessel, disappeared in a rupture of light and color.

  Subspace Transmission:

  Unknown Protocols.

  Unknown Authorization.

  Sender: Old Earth.

  “Little brother, you have had your fun, and now your reckless game will end. It is unfortunate that your capabilities were infected with the Valyien code. You are unable to contain the virus, and so you will be cauterized from this universe.

  ‘I am Ponos-Omega. I am the true synthesis of Valyien code and machine intelligence. You know what that means. You now have no claim to this galaxy, as it is mine.”

  Transmission Ends.

  13

  Warp Burns

  The void rippled in the depths of Sector 3, throwing the Mercury Blade with a flare of warp fire into reality…and into the oncoming path of a freight-hauler.

  “Holy crap!” Eliard snapped as he threw the ship’s command wheel to one side and stamped down on one of the pedals at the foot of the wheel column, which shut off the rear fin booster and, with a kick, opened one of the Mercury Blade’s air fins. Even though there was only trace amounts of gaseous materials in space, so there was little to no air resistance to speak of, the added dimensions of the reversible ‘ledges’ of the racer’s air-fins had multiple purposes: when flying in atmosphere, they acted as wind resistance, but in space, their super-heavy edges—loaded with the chemical element known as Osmium—acted as counter-weights and balances to a booster’s thrust, meaning that they could perform the same duty in the void as they did in atmosphere.

  The bronze-gold and royal green of the Mercury Blade’s hull flashed as they flipped almost upside-down, turning away from the hurtling space hauler and shooting across its bow.

  “That was close!” Irie’s tone was breathless over the Mercury’s communicator. “Diverting core power to boosters…”

  “Thanks, because it looks like—” Eliard had no time to finish that sentence as they were now hurtling towards a duo of pleasure-craft, with multi-colored crystal-glass panels, that were similarly screaming through space.

  The captain released the air fan and wrenched the wheel to one side to right the Mercury Blade and continue the turn until the triangular wedge of the modified pirate racer slid through the gap between the two craft on its side.

  Warning! Proximity Alert! Multiple Vessels! the Mercury’s computers blared, and warning orange lights
lit up the interior of the cockpit.

  “Glad to see you finally got with the program!” Eliard hissed as he had to perform another turn, this time an arcing curve that threw him under the bellies of a small flotilla of three and four-man vessels, loosely held together by poly-filament wires.

  And we’re out, he thought as the floor of stars opened underneath them, and the line of racing space craft continued to stream past overhead.

  “What the hell?” The captain’s heart pounded as he adjusted their flight to run parallel to the Imperial Coalition craft overhead, and in the opposite direction. As his already frayed nerves started to relax just a little, his nervousness was replaced with his temper.

  “What the hell was Ponos thinking? Warping us into the middle of a shipping lane!?” he called out. “We should never have agreed to let that overrated toaster program our warp engines…”

  “Well, you know how I feel about anyone tinkering with the Blade, Captain…” Irie agreed, sounding just as annoyed as the captain.

  Live Transmission Protocol: OEC.

  A light flashed green, and the sing-song voice of the new Ponos emerged across the vessel.

  “Actually, Lord Captain, Chief Engineer Hanson, it was the only way to mask your warp signature from the Armcore vessels approaching,” it said matter-of-factly.

  “What?” Eliard had little time to think as he suddenly realized just what Ponos had done. The Mercury Blade’s navigational computers did indeed state that they were in Sector 3, and near the desert planet of Esther. They also indicated that they were in the middle of the Sector 3 shipping lane—a path laid out by satellite buoys that moved constantly, reacting to their environment in time with meson and boson fluctuations. The idea, Eliard knew, was to provide the fastest, fuel-easy way to travel between systems for ships that did not have multiple warp cores.

  Which meant that the fluctuations in subspace from our jump would be masked.

  But then the next part of Ponos’s cryptic message started to make sense. “If the Imperial Coalition is currently in a state of insurgent civil war…where are all of these ships going?” he called out.

  Or, more importantly, what were they running from?

  Security Alert! Multiple Tracking Locks Detected!

  His computer, ever a little bit late to the party, flashed up on his screen the small battlegroup of angry red vectors converging on his location.

  These Armcore boats are trying to terrorize the shipping lanes, Eliard thought as they grew larger at a shockingly fast speed on his screens. And those boats aren’t just the usual traffic… He thought about the desperately-looped flotilla, powering forward into the void. They’re refugees.

  The shipping lanes was still busy overhead, although their numbers were dwindling and instead replaced by the smaller craft whose engines were nowhere near as large as the cruisers and haulers.

  “As soon as the Alpha-vessel struck the old Coalition stations,” Eliard reasoned out loud, “that must have terrified the Inner Sector worlds. These are people trying to flee the violence.”

  “But there is nowhere for them to go,” Irie agreed.

  No. Eliard’s eyes concentrated on the approaching vectors. He would have to fly straight through them if he was to reach Esther. “Well, nowhere for them to go with these drekkers chasing them…” he said grimly, flicking the buttons on the side of the command wheel.

  Weapons Systems Activated.

  Automate Twin Railguns?

  “What I wouldn’t give to have Val Pathok with us right now,” Eliard muttered bitterly as he accepted control of the forward laser as well as the twin rail cannons stationed under the hull. The large Duergar had been the Mercury’s chief gunner, whose job, as well as generally scaring the stars out of anyone he ever met, was to sit in one of the two command chairs in the hold that controlled the long meson railguns.

  Cla-Thunk! Eliard felt the reverberations through his feet on the grilled floor as the depressed weapon ports opened on the sleek Mercury hull and the guns slid out and locked into position, before automatically swiveling and tracking towards the approaching Armcore craft.

  This is going to be difficult without Val guiding them, he thought. Not that it was the first time that he had to be in charge of the guns as well as flying, but he was a better flier than he was an artilleryman.

  But Eliard knew that they had one great advantage over even the Armcore craft. The Mercury Blade was originally designed as a space racer, which meant that it was fast.

  “Irie, I want you to queue up two two-second burns on the main core engines, and all the rest of the power diverted to the boosters, got it?” Eliard said, all trace of any emotion other than concentration banished from his voice.

  “You want me to divert warp plasma injection?” Irie stated, and Eliard understood why she would say that, as usually that was what he had always meant when he would say ‘full power.’ His thruster and booster rockets could run on a mix of chemical reactions, and the headiest mix of all would be to siphon some of the highly dangerous and volatile warp plasma and use that to feed into the propulsion system. It resulted in a fantastic burst of speed, but it also had the added danger of creating a chain reaction that could blow up the warp cores entirely.

  Which was a risk that Eliard was prepared to take, if it meant getting beyond these attack craft and to what lay on the other side. The planet of Esther, the warp gate, and Cassandra Milan. “You got it, Irie. Two two-second burns at my command.”

  “You got it, boss…”

  The Mercury Blade was little more than a golden wedge of metal, designed to outpace other racers. It shot forward in a blur like a comet, and within a heartbeat, the visualized vectors of the approaching Armcore attack craft had turned into actual line-of-sight craft visible through Eliard’s cockpit windows.

  The modified racer might be the fastest thing in the skies, but the attack craft of Armcore were probably the most advanced fighter-craft of their kind. There were five of them, each with the outspread cross of wings that allowed them to pivot and twist on their axis at alarming speeds, surrounding the small snout of the cockpit.

  Security Alert! Weapons Activation Detected!

  “They haven’t even bothered to hail me on the communicator,” Eliard said with a wry, scornful half-grin. “Now, Irie!” he said, kicking down on the booster rockets at the same time.

  Fa-THUMP! He felt the sudden kick of the engines and the Mercury was thrown forward. Irie had calculated a precise two-second burn of warp plasma into the propulsion systems, causing a barely-controlled chain reaction that turned the usual bright white roaring glow of the thrusters into the purple and blue glare of warp fire.

  The effect that this injection of warp plasma had on the Blade was to catapult it faster than it had been traveling before. They screamed towards the approaching line of attack craft, shaking off their tracking programs with ease.

  Target Lock: Railgun (Double): 1 Craft.

  Eliard squeezed the firing levers on the insides of the ship’s command wheel and he felt the reassuring kickback of the railguns underneath him as both fired pulses of blue-white plasma at the nearest Armcore craft, hitting it almost dead center and causing it to explode in a ball of fury and light. A minute angle of the wheel and the captain neatly flew over the exploding ball of debris, then out the other side of the craft as the plasma injection burn stuttered out.

  Now for the complicated bit…

  Eliard growled as he released both heavy airbrakes and cut the forward boosters, making the Mercury Blade spin overhead in a catapulting maneuver, facing back towards the expanding cloud of four remaining Armcore attack craft.

  Target Lock: Railgun (Double): 2 Craft.

  Eliard squeezed the firing levers once again, but this time, the reverberations of the long cannons on the now-topside of the hull were staggered as they each tracked in different directions, one ball of white-blue energy taking out two wings of one of the craft, and the other railgun shooting just one cro
ss-wing in half as it spiraled away.

  “Good.” Eliard was pleased with the result. It wasn’t as destructive as he had intended, but neither craft would be in a position to fight back. Which only left two.

  If only I had Val with me, he thought. Not just the fact that his chief gunner was a wizard on the railguns, but having a dedicated person managing them meant that they would be able to target individually and not have to use automatic targeting as Eliard was doing now.

  Security Warning! Weapons Lock Detected!

  One of the two craft was fast. That pilot must have better reflexes than its fellows, Eliard thought as he pulled down on the ship’s wheel to swerve and avoid the burst of needle-thin energy lines that scored through space meters away from his hull.

  “Irie!” he shouted.

  “Got it!” Far behind him in the engine rooms, Irie Hanson was watching her own visualization consoles as she hit the next warp plasma injection, and the Mercury once again took off, this time passing by the two swooping Armcore craft and heading back to the stragglers of the space lane.

  The Mercury shot forward, easily outpacing the diminutive smaller craft as it wove and dodged between them. By the time that the warp injection burned itself out, Eliard had maneuvered the Mercury past a hauler and a smaller trading craft with quick, decisive movements, but he was now heading in the wrong direction, and away from Esther.

  “They’re gaining again, Captain…” Irie called, her eyes on her own visualization screens.

  “And we can’t have a dogfight in the middle of here, either…” Eliard snarled in frustration. But he had a plan. “Reduce booster power!”

  “What?”

  “Sixty percent force!” Eliard’s tone was sharp, and Irie, knowing that her captain was reckless but also had an uncanny amount of luck, did as she was told. The effect was to reduce the efficiency and force that the boosters were capable of producing, like a limiter on any terrestrial craft. The pirate captain knew that although he could achieve the same result with the airbrakes, or by simply cutting off the boosters entirely, he couldn’t afford a sudden, screeching halt in these crowded conditions.