Frontiers Saga 12: Rise of the Alliance

by Ryk Brown

  “They would need a lot of antimatter reactors,” Abby insisted, “or a few ZPEDs.”

  “You think they have ZPEDs?” Cameron asked. “That would explain their more powerful shields.”

  “Doubtful, based on what we’ve seen of their technology thus far,” Abby said.

  “They are scavengers,” Cameron reminded her. “Maybe they got it from a recently conquered civilization?”

  “It seems unlikely that any of the core or fringe worlds would be that advanced,” Abby said. “They all suffered the same type of setbacks that we did when the plague hit.”

  “We’ve already seen a few that fared better than Earth did.”

  “No, ZPEDs are way more advanced. The Takarans are just now implementing them, and they didn’t have the plague to set them back.”

  “But they did lose time when they first settled the Pentaurus cluster.”

  “A few hundred years, maybe,” Abby argued, “but their technology is still at least five hundred years ahead of us.”

  “I knew they were more advanced,” Cameron said, “I just didn’t realize they were that much more advanced.” Cameron leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Maybe the Jung have been venturing further out than we originally thought? Maybe they’ve found, and conquered, a civilization that has ZPEDs?”

  “Or some other method to generate massive amounts of energy. There are more than one.”

  “Of course.”

  “You destroyed one of these platforms already, right? In Sol?”

  “Yes, but only because we got lucky. We were in retreat. The commander of the platform must have thought he had already won. If it hadn’t been for those Falcons…”

  “But that didn’t work in the Alpha Centauri B system?”

  “No, it didn’t. Nor did our time-on-target attack. The damned thing just swallowed up a hundred and twelve plasma charges and spit them back out. It was like they passed right through them.”

  “Or in this case, around them,” Abby corrected.

  “So, folding space is pretty advanced stuff.”

  “Yes and no. Obviously, it is quite advanced, but the ability to fold space has been around since before the bio-digital plague. The Earth had already developed a prototype by the late twenty-first century, but the invention of artificial gravity, and then inertial dampening fields eventually led to mass-negation fields. That, combined with electrically accelerated propellant systems quickly became the status quo for faster-than-light travel, as it required far less energy.”

  “Then why are the Jung not using it for their battle platforms?” Cameron wondered. “They use it for all their other ships.”

  “Probably because of the size of the platform,” Abby explained. “The propulsion systems required to get that thing moving to even a tiny fraction of light would be massive.”

  “And the platform doesn’t need to maneuver,” Cameron realized, “at least not in the same way that a cruiser or battleship does.”

  “Why dedicate all that space to propulsion when you can use it for energy production instead?”

  “Energy that can be used for both FTL and shields.”

  “But probably not for both,” Abby added, “at least not at the same time.”

  “Why would they need them? Everything we fire at them goes around them.”

  “Another advantage to folding space,” Abby pointed out. “No one can attack you while you’re in FTL.”

  “We have to find a way to knock that thing out of FTL before we attack it,” Cameron said.

  “The kind of fields used to fold space are very sensitive and must remain in perfect balance or they will collapse.”

  “We just threw over a hundred plasma shots at it, Abby,” Cameron reminded her.

  “Plasma shots are just energetic mass,” Abby explained. “What you need is something that will disrupt their folding of space. Something like pure energy. The Aurora’s antimatter cores are designed to be ejected intact if the ship breaks up, correct? Are not the Jung’s as well?”

  “They are. In fact, we’ve already harvested at least a dozen of them back in Sol,” Cameron said.

  “Is that all? I would think a battleship would use that many alone.”

  “They’re not as easy to detect as you might think. Plus, they don’t always leave them behind.”

  “Yeah, I heard about Kent,” Abby said, her head hanging down.

  “Would a dozen of them do the trick?” Cameron wondered.

  “Possibly, but remember, the less matter around, the less the antimatter has to react with. However, I would expect that the delivery device would provide enough matter for a sizable reaction to occur. During an antimatter detonation, you’re creating specific energy levels in excess of what you might find in a supernova. When you realize that all the exotic particle creations are bound by relativity, the effects of such a powerful detonation in a small region of space may damned near create a singularity. This process might disrupt the Jung’s spatial folds enough to cause them to come out of FTL for a bit.”

  “Any chance you’d be willing to come back and help us figure it out?” Cameron asked, looking at Abby with pleading eyes.

  “You don’t need me for this,” Abby admitted. “Kamenetskiy is smart enough to make it work.” A smirk formed on Abby’s lips. “Just don’t tell him I said so.”

  * * *

  “We’re ready to broadcast the activation codes,” Naralena announced over the intercom.

  “Very well,” Nathan answered. “Begin transmitting.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “How long do you think it will take for someone to answer?” Vladimir wondered.

  Nathan glanced at the time display on the forward bulkhead of his ready room, just above the big view screen. “It takes about eight hours for a signal to reach the Kuiper belt. Assuming there is anyone else hiding out there to receive the signal, we should know something by tomorrow morning, I would think.”

  “It will take them a few hours to wake up and power up all their systems,” Vladimir pointed out.

  “How much do you know about the old Scout-class ships?”

  “Everything,” Vladimir insisted. “As Earth’s first post-plague FTL ships, we learned all their systems. Much of our systems are based on theirs, just slightly improved due to better production methods that were available by the time the Explorer-class ships went into production.”

  “How much do you think we can do with them?”

  Vladimir tapped his data pad several times. The main view screen on the forward bulkhead came to life, displaying the schematics for the Scout-class ship. “Making them into jump ships should be relatively easy,” he explained. “Just replace their mass-negs with jump field generators, and swap out their field emitters with the improved designs that Lieutenant Montgomery and his team came up with. Those ships should be able to jump about just like Falcons.”

  “What about weapons?” Nathan wondered.

  “You want them to have weapons?”

  “Of course.”

  “They don’t have the same hull protection that we have, Nathan,” Vladimir warned. “A single round from a medium-sized rail gun will obliterate them.”

  “I’m not planning on sending them on the attack, Vlad,” Nathan explained, “but I don’t want them to be defenseless, either. Besides, I’m hoping that we’re all going to get shields once we get this last battle platform off our backs, and the Karuzara gets close enough to act as a port for major overhauls.”

  “Shields would be nice,” Vladimir agreed. “I am getting tired of repairing our hull. Many layers; very tedious.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Oh, da. Well, since they will no longer need excessive speed, they will not require as much propellant. We could remove some of the forward tanks to make room for defensive laser turrets.”

  “I was hoping for something more substantial,” Nathan told him. “What about removing the outboard tanks in the drive section?”

  “Tho
se two tanks combined hold half of the ship’s propellant,” Vladimir cautioned. “What is it you wish to install there?”

  “I was thinking of plasma torpedoes.”

  Vladimir’s eyebrows shot up. “So much for not sending them into battle.”

  “We’ve got to utilize everything we’ve got, Vlad…”

  “Nathan, those ships would not last five minutes against anything larger than a gunboat.”

  “Not in a conventional engagement, no,” Nathan agreed, “but if they jumped in on, say, a frigate, and fired a round of triplets before jumping back out? That frigate would be dead, and the Scout would come out without a scratch.”

  “If they catch them by surprise,” Vladimir cautioned. “That is a very big if, my friend. Perhaps you should consider using them only as recon ships?”

  “Recon ships that can go on the offensive, if the tactical situation is favorable.”

  Vladimir sighed, realizing that he was not going to convince his friend otherwise.

  “Can you put weapons in that ship?”

  “Of course I can put weapons in that ship,” Vladimir admitted. “Gospadee. It’s a spaceship, Nathan. We can attach weapons all over the outside, if you want.”

  “I just might.”

  “Nathan,” Vladimir begged.

  “Relax, Vlad,” Nathan interrupted, “I’m not about to send them off on a suicide mission. I’m just weighing my options for the future. For now, let’s just worry about making it jump-capable. There is still a lot of recon to be done.”

  “Captain, Comms,” Naralena called over the intercom.

  “Go ahead,” Nathan answered.

  “Sir, Boxcar Two just jumped into Earth orbit. They’re requesting permission to jump down to Porto Santo.”

  “Clear them in, and notify Porto Santo they’re on their way down.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Another load of Ghatazhak?” Vladimir wondered.

  “That brings them up to two hundred and thirty-two,” Nathan said.

  “Gospadee,” Vladimir exclaimed.

  “Yeah, I know,” Nathan agreed. “And we thought thirty-two of them were frightening.”

  * * *

  Darkness filled the compartment. Only the eerie glow from the series of multi-colored status lights across the tops of the four doors on either side of the room provided any sense of direction or space.

  An interface panel near the forward hatch suddenly came to life. Lights began to pop on across the panel as internal systems controlled by the interface spun up and began to report their status on the interface board.

  Light panels built into the ceiling flickered to life, revealing several items floating about the compartment. A pen, a hat, and a folded slip of paper, each drifting about at various locations in the room all fell from the air at the same time—the hat landing on the table at the center of the compartment—as the ship’s artificial gravity came to life.

  The status lights located along the top of each of the eight doors located along either side of the compartment began to change colors. Yellow to green, red to yellow, green to blue. More lights appeared next to them, adding to the arrays of color.

  The windows in the eight doors all began to glow, gently illuminating the faces of the eight men asleep in the stasis chambers. They all were unshaven, with at least a few weeks’ growth showing on their faces.

  Sounds began to fill the room. First, ventilation fans began to whir in the background as the ship’s environmental system began to recycle the air, adding heat into the frigid room. Beeps announced the changes in the stasis chambers. The beeps were followed by a computerized voice announcing the start of each man’s waking cycle. “Anders, Aiken, Captain; waking,” the voice reported. “Frisch, Otto, Sergeant; waking. Scalotti, Donati, Lieutenant; waking.” The voice continued reporting as the wake cycles began for all eight of the ship’s crew.

  A few minutes later, one by one, the doors slid open. The men were breathing, slowly at first, but their breathing rates increased almost immediately.

  One of the men’s eyes opened. He gasped, taking in a sudden deep breath as if he had been holding his breath for months. Steam came from his mouth and nose as he breathed out. “Damn,” he grumbled, his voice rough and harsh after months of his vocal chords not being used. “Why the hell don’t they ever warm the place up before they wake us?”

  “Just so that you’d have something to complain about, Fritzi.”

  “It’s Frisch, jackass.”

  “Alert. Alert,” the computerized voice called out. “Medical emergency. Anders, Aiken, Captain. Insufficient cardiac output. Insufficient respiratory rate…”

  “Oh, fuck!” Fritzi exclaimed as he burst out of his stasis chamber and ran toward the captain’s open chamber.

  Captain Anders’s body fell forward like a falling tree as several of his crew rushed toward him, catching him just in time.

  “What the fuck happened!” one of them yelled as they lowered the captain’s now limp body onto the deck.

  “How the hell do I know!” Fritzi answered. “Get the resuscitation kit!”

  “I got it!” another man reported as he stepped out of his stasis tube and grabbed the red kit from the compartment next to his tube.

  The ship’s XO opened his eyes suddenly to the sound of chaos. He blinked several times. His eyelids felt stuck together and he had to force them apart. The sound of his fellow crewmen yelling grabbed his attention, snapping him out of what they referred to as the ‘post-stasis fog.’ He looked at the group of men huddled over someone on the floor as they worked frantically to revive the fallen man. He stepped clumsily out of his stasis chamber onto the deck, pausing a moment to get his balance. He looked to either side, noticing the rest of the crew stepping out of their stasis chambers as well, immediately rushing to help. Adrenaline began to flow throughout his body, giving him the strength and coordination needed to push the fog aside and join the action.

  “Clear!” Sergeant Frisch yelled. The other men pulled their hands away from their captain’s limp body as Sergeant Frisch, their only medic, delivered an electric shock to their captain’s body. Sergeant Frisch paused, staring at the monitor screen. “Asystole! Continue compressions!” he ordered as he dropped the paddles and reached for the intubation kit.

  The XO stepped up beside them, looking down at the man’s body, realizing for the first time that it was their captain lying dead on the floor in front of them. Is wasn’t just their captain, it was his friend. As much as he wanted to help the resuscitation efforts, he couldn’t. He was in command now, and he had to check on the status of their ship. Why were they awakened? Was the ship in danger? Had they been activated? Were they supposed to take action? “Agari! Take over for Scalotti!”

  “Yes, sir,” Agari answered, moving into position to take over compressions from the lieutenant.

  “Don, check main power and environmental, ASAP. I want to know the condition of this ship.”

  “Aye, sir,” the lieutenant answered as he stepped out of the way to make room for Ensign Agari.

  “Wells, get on the comms and find out what’s going on. I want to know if we received any action orders.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ensign Wells answered, moving past the commander to head forward.

  The XO looked down at his men as they tried to resuscitate their fallen captain. “Do what you can, Fritzi.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered as he inserted the breathing tube into the captain’s mouth.

  “I’ll be on the flight deck,” the XO announced as he turned to head forward. He stepped through the hatch into the EVA prep room, slipping around the ladder that led upward into the airlock tunnel, as well as downward into the maintenance crawlway below the main deck.

  The next hatch forward brought him to the control deck, where his comm operator was already spinning up the ship’s communications systems. He moved past him and up the four steep steps that led to the elevated flight deck. He moved forward and c
limbed into the pilot’s seat—the one his captain usually sat in—and immediately began flipping switches to fire up critical systems. He wanted to know the condition of his ship. Were they still space-worthy after all this time?

  It suddenly dawned on him. How long have we been out? He shook the concern off for the moment, instead focusing on the task at hand… Could they fly?

  “Commander!” Ensign Wells called from the lower deck. The XO grabbed the comm-set lying on the glare shield in front of him and placed it on his head, tapping the activation button on the side. “What have you got, Wellsy?”

  “We were activated, sir,” the ensign told him over the comm-set. “I’ve got a valid message in the queue. It was transmitted eleven hours ago… By the Aurora?”

  “The Aurora? That can’t be right. She was lost with all hands.”

  “The message is valid, Commander,” Ensign Wells assured him. “I’ve double-checked the codes. Both the wake signal and the message are from the UES Aurora, under the command of Nathan Scott.”

  “Who the fuck is Nathan Scott?”

  “Wasn’t he the president’s son?”

  “What the…? You’d better be damned sure that message is valid, Ensign.”

  * * *

  “Captain on the bridge,” the guard announced as Nathan moved quickly from the airlock corridor into the Aurora’s bridge.

  “Report!”

  “It’s another Scout ship, sir,” Mister Navashee reported. “It came out of FTL a few minutes ago. Its transponder IDs it as DSS Three.”

  “There were six of them, right?” Nathan asked Lieutenant Eckert at the tactical station.

  “Eight originally,” the lieutenant corrected. “Two of them never returned from their initial deep space missions. Once the rest of them returned, they were assigned to patrol the outer edges of the Oort, to detect any Jung ships entering the system.”

  “With six ships?” Nathan said. “That’s a lot of space to monitor for six ships.”

  “I believe they concentrated their efforts on the logical approach paths into the system, Captain.”

  “They’d have to.”

  “They’re requesting permission to come alongside and dock with us,” Naralena reported.