Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  “I think we can help you there, general.” Sparks looked a little nervous. “At least if you’re willing to waive some of the usual testing requirements.”

  “Do you think the system is ready?” Cain’s question was direct.

  “Yes, general.” The scientist returned Cain’s gaze, though it took some effort. “I believe it is reliable as is. However I cannot yet demonstrate this fact with adequate field testing results.”

  “Good enough for me, Tom.” For all Cain’s stubbornness and hard-driving way of doing things, he could check something off his list rapidly when he was satisfied. He trusted Sparks’ judgment, and that was all he needed to hear. He turned toward Hofstader. “Friederich, have you overseen the outfitting of the research vessels?” Grand Fleet would include a squadron of science ships loaded with the best and brightest of Hofstader’s hand-picked personnel. Learning more about the First Imperium and its technology was going to be essential to taking the war to the enemy, and that meant Hofstader and his pack of white coats needed to be up at the front, not lightyears away manning some remote research station.

  Hofstader nodded. “Yes, general.” He paused then elaborated. “I personally oversaw most of the preparations, but I’m afraid I had to delegate the final efforts in order to embark in time to reach Sandoval for this meeting.” He hesitated again before adding, “I left detailed instructions behind, and I placed Bradley Travers in charge of the operation. I have complete faith in his ability.”

  “Good choice, Friederich.” Cain smiled. He wasn’t sure if Hofstader knew Travers was one of Roderick Vance’s spooks, but he did…and he felt better knowing that Vance’s resources would be available on Carson’s World if needed. “Travers is a good man.”

  There was a brief silence before Sparks continued the discussion. “General Cain, I forwarded you the updated reports on the status of the new weapons and equipment. The PBS drones were tested after my last transmission, so that data is not included, but everything else is exactly as reported.” Sparks looked tentatively at Cain. “Is there anything we can clarify on those initiatives while we are here?”

  Cain leaned back in his chair. “No, Tom. Your reports were, as always, meticulous and complete. I am comfortable with the status of all research and development projects.” He paused. “There is another reason I wanted you both here.”

  Friederich glanced over at Sparks. The engineer’s confused look confirmed he had no more idea what Cain had in mind that Hofstader himself did. “What can we do for you, General Cain?”

  Cain shifted in his seat, straightening the worst folds in his rumpled fatigues as he did. Sparks hadn’t noticed until now how plain the general’s fatigues were…just 4 small platinum stars on each collar. Erik Cain had more combat decorations than half the people on Midway combined, but there wasn’t a ribbon to be seen.

  “We just got word from Admiral Jacobs out at Adelaide. It turns out there were survivors from the colony after all.” Cain was looking at Sparks as he spoke, and he could see by his surprised expression, the Corps chief engineer hadn’t had much hope anyone had managed to hold out on the distant colony.

  “There’s no sign of enemy activity in Adelaide’s system or anywhere between here and there.” Cain ran his fingers over his ‘pad, and a map of warp connections from Sandoval to Adelaide came up on the main display on the wall. “We’re going to be setting up a forward base and supply depot on Adelaide…” Cain looked up from the ‘pad and back at Sparks and Hofstader. “…and I’d like both of you out there as soon as possible.” He took a short breath. “The first flotilla is leaving in four days. If at all possible, I’d like the two of you to join it.”

  Hofstader and Sparks both looked startled, but they remained silent. They were aware that Garret and Holm were still on Earth trying to get clearance for the offensive operation. As far as they knew, it wasn’t even certain there’d be an invasion at all and, at the very least, they’d expected it to be months before anyone was moving forward.

  “Jacobs’ tech crews have provisional Commnet links in place all the way out to Adelaide now, so we’ve got priority communications with less than three days transit time each way.” Cain glanced down at his ‘pad, his fingers sliding slowly across the surface. “I am sending you both updated dossiers, detailing the resources we are dispatching to Adelaide’s system. Admiral Jacobs has already deployed limited ground forces to the planet as well as a squadron of attack ships on patrol. Our first expedition will substantially upgrade these defenses as well as establish a research facility on the planet.”

  He took a deep breath and continued. “Apparently, the planetary militia fought a considerable battle against the First Imperium invaders, and there is a significant amount of debris that needs to be studied.” Cain knew as well as his two subordinates it was unlikely anything useful would be among the artifacts on Adelaide. His own forces on Sandoval had left behind enough shattered pieces of First Imperium robots and equipment to keep the scientific teams supplied for a lifetime. But he wanted his two top researchers on Adelaide for another reason, one he was hesitant to discuss. Mike Jacobs was exceeding his initial orders, moving Scouting Fleet deeper toward enemy space. His initial authorization extended to Adelaide only, but Admiral Compton had given him a quiet nod to keep moving. It was a risk…he was getting farther out in front of support. If he ran into significant enemy resistance he could easily find himself in serious trouble. But he was anxious to go, and Compton wanted as much intel as possible before he and Garret led 80% of humanity’s warships into the unknown.

  Hofstader answered first, glancing briefly at Sparks before beginning. “Of course, General Cain…I will go if you feel that is where I can be of the greatest service.” He was tentative at first, on edge, feeling he should remain behind to manage the arrangements being completed. But he realized there really wasn’t much for him to do. The balance of work to be done was primarily logistical in nature, complex, but hardly requiring the supervision of the Pact’s senior physicist.

  “Thank you, Friederich.” Cain shifted, looking at Sparks. “Tom?”

  Sparks cleared his throat. “Of course, general.” He swallowed hard and added, “I am at your command.”

  “This isn’t an order.” Cain softened his tone. “It’s a request. I won’t order you away from your work here if you think it’s important you stay.”

  Sparks thought for a moment. He had the same impulse as Hofstader, thinking this wasn’t the time for him to be away from his crews. But he had everything running smoothly and, assuming the invasion was approved, it wouldn’t be that much longer before they’d be pulling out anyway. He was going to have to leave the production crews on their own soon no matter what so, other than a little bit of surprise, there was no reason to turn down the request. Besides, the mere thought of saying no to Erik Cain was more than he could imagine.

  “Of course, sir.” His voice was firm. “If you think it’s best, I completely agree.”

  Cain nodded gratefully. “I have a few additional reasons I will keep to myself for now, but I do believe it will be helpful.” He paused, looking briefly at each man. “Thank you both.” He motioned over to the trays on the table. “Now please, have something to eat. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 5

  AS Indianapolis

  HP 56548 III System

  Outer System

  300,000,000 km past Newton Orbit

  Jacobs sat silently, staring at the main screen. Everything checked out…no contacts, no detectable energy emissions. The scanners and specialists of the fleet were telling him there were no enemies in Newton’s system. But Jacobs didn’t believe it. Something was somehow…wrong. It was his nose, his gut. But he knew something was there.

  Where, he thought…where would I hide if I was an enemy picket? He pulled up the system map, studying it carefully. His vanguard was 30,000,000 miles from the orbit of the outermost planet. That lonely world itself was irrelevant, a frigid, airless ball of
rock currently far away, on the opposite side of the primary. But its orbital shell was also a border, leading to the warp gate and beyond, to the very edge of the star system.

  Finally, it hit him. There it was…Newton’s system had an area of planetary debris, asteroids, and frozen volatiles, similar to Sol’s Kuiper Belt but far denser. If was a perfect place to hide…full of debris that played havoc with long-range scanners. “Commander Carp, order Borodino to launch a spread of heavy probes to the coordinates I’m sending you. I want 200% overlap and full power.” He looked down at his workstation again. “That’s where I’d hide,” he muttered softly to himself. “Beyond the warp gate but close enough to scan anything approaching in open space.”

  “Yes, admiral.” Carp responded sharply. He could hear Jacobs whispering to himself, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying. He almost asked, but it was obvious the admiral didn’t intend for anyone to hear. If Jacobs wanted Carp to know, he’d tell him.

  Jacobs sat, deep in thought, only peripherally hearing Carp relay his orders. He’d come to trust the brilliant young officer completely. If he told Carp to do it, he considered it as good as done. If there was anything hiding out there behind the warp gate, the phalanx of probes would be detected immediately, placed so closely together and operating on high power. Jacobs didn’t care…if the probes found whatever was lurking there fine; if they just flushed it out into the open, that was just as good. And if he was wrong and there was nothing there, at least he’d know.

  “Borodino reports probe spread launched, admiral.” Borodino was an old Russian cruiser, hastily modified into a light carrier. Scouting Fleet wasn’t a heavy combat organization, but Garret hadn’t wanted to send Jacobs into enemy space without some teeth. Borodino and her sister-ship, Tolstoy, each carried two light squadrons of fighters and a large supply of probes. The PRC’s Osaka was a bit larger, carrying 18 fighter-bombers. The converted ships sacrificed most of their weaponry and armor to accommodate the landing bays, but they gave Jacobs long-ranged striking power, a valuable resource against an enemy that didn’t seem to utilize fighters at all.

  “Very well, commander. I want realtime updates.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carp knew Jacobs expected to find something. There was no evidence to support the suspicion, but the admiral’s hunch was good enough for him.

  Jacobs sat quietly in his command chair, glancing down at the ship’s status indicators. Scouting Fleet was understaffed, and Jacobs was skippering Indianapolis in addition to his duties as admiral. “Commander Carp, bring the fleet to yellow alert.” Jacobs didn’t know what the probes would find, if anything, but he wasn’t going to get caught by surprise no matter what happened.

  “Yes, sir.” Carp worked his hands over his station. “Fleet status upgraded to yellow.”

  It wasn’t battlestations, but yellow alert brought the fleet’s units to a high state of readiness, and it directed all vessels to conduct weapons diagnostics. If Jacobs had to move the status to red alert, pre-existing yellow status would dramatically shorten the time it took to get to full battle readiness. And if it turned out Jacobs’ concerns were unfounded, it would be a useful drill.

  Carp turned toward Jacobs. “Fleet status yellow confirmed by all units, admiral.”

  Jacobs double-checked Indianapolis’ own readiness, but he saw that Carp had already executed all yellow protocols for the vessel. He leaned back and watched the plot displaying the probes’ location. The spread was approaching the warp gate, fanning out to widen the coverage area. The sophisticated scanning drones were already operating at full power, sweeping the area. They could detect miniscule energy emissions at fairly long range and physical objects closer in. If there was anything posted near the warp gate, they would find it.

  “Probe phalanx passing warp gate, admiral.” Carp was tracking the plot and, though he knew the admiral was watching himself, he verbally updated him anyway. “Still no contacts.” Carp wasn’t sure if he expected the probes to find anything, but he couldn’t fault the admiral for being careful. Allowing the enemy to detect the fleet without even realizing they’d been spotted could be disastrous. The First Imperium’s dark energy transmission system would allow a scout to undetectably warn forces farther down the line. The fleet could easily walk into a trap and, against this enemy, that would mean total destruction.

  “Keep monitoring, commander.” Jacobs’ response was perfunctory; his own attention was focused on the plotting screen as well. A few minutes passed, then five. Still nothing. Could I be wrong, he began to wonder. He’d been so sure.

  “Energy readings, sir!” Carp’s voice, louder, excited. “Multiple contacts!”

  Jacobs saw it too, just as Carp snapped off his report. It took a few seconds for the AIs to interpret the readings…starship drives roaring to life. Not one drive, not ten…there were more than two dozen, and they were beginning to thrust toward the fleet.

  “Bogies inbound, admiral.” Carp was working his controls, trying to ID the approaching vessels. “Thirty-one ships confirmed.” Carp’s voice was still steady, but it was starting to show the strain. Jacobs had been concerned there was a scout hiding behind the warp gate, but none of them had expected to find an entire First Imperium task force lurking in the deep outer system. “Still working on unit IDs, sir.”

  “Get me those as soon as you have them, commander.” Jacobs leaned back and took a breath. Well, he thought, I wasn’t wrong…now I just have to get the fleet out of this. He was looking at the plotting screen, considering how to handle an enemy force far larger than anything he’d anticipated. “We’ve got to stop underestimating their tactics,” he muttered almost soundlessly. “They’re learning. They’re learning from us.”

  “I’ve got a dozen Gremlins ID’d, sir.” Carp, still working as he spoke. “And four Gargoyles. Computer’s still crunching on the rest.”

  Fuck, Jacobs thought. He hadn’t been expecting ships as heavy as Gargoyles…he’d only anticipated a scouting force. This was going to be a real fight. He glanced over at Carp, who was still working furiously on identifying the rest of the bogies. He turned, moving his head reflexively to the side again, even though the conduit from Hornet’s bridge still wasn’t there. “Lieutenant Hooper…transmit fleet order Red-1.” He stared right at her, eyes cold and focused. “Battlestations.”

  Pavel Bogdan clung to the rails of the intraship car as it raced to the launch deck. His Black Star squadron was one of the Russian-Indian Confederacy’s most elite, and he’d wondered what the hell they were doing assigned to a hastily modified bucket of bolts like Borodino, attached to a scouting force. Now he knew. Scouting Fleet wasn’t out here to meekly prowl around, and Michael Jacobs wasn’t about to let an enemy task force stand in his way. That meant facing front line First Imperium ships with suicide boats and a few cruisers…and the Black Stars and their companion squadrons.

  He and his bomber crews already had their flight suits on, and their maintenance teams had preflighted the ships. That was all courtesy of Jacobs’ yellow alert. The battlestations alarm wasn’t in itself a launch order, but it did send them to man their craft and wait for a take-off command. That would likely come sooner rather than later.

  Bogdan and his squadron were all veterans, but they hadn’t faced First Imperium ships yet. Assigned to the defense of Samvar, they had been held in reserve and hadn’t yet engaged when the enemy retreat order was issued. He’d bristled at the inaction and hungered for a chance to get at the enemy. When his squadron was first assigned to nursemaid a bunch of scoutships, he’d taken it badly. Now he realized his people would get their chance, and far sooner than any of the forces coalescing in the rear for the main invasion. The Black Stars were in the vanguard, and they had a fighting admiral leading them, by God. Yes they did.

  The car stopped abruptly at a small catwalk just over two meters above the landing bay’s deck. The trip had been a short one; Borodino was much smaller than a capital ship, and everything was crammed closer together. �
��Let’s go, people.” He stood up and moved quickly onto the catwalk, the loose metal grating rattling loudly under his boots. Everything on Borodino was loose, thrown together, or half-assed in some way. She was a poor substitute for a proper mothership, but she’d brought his people 40 lightyears to the edge of battle. That had to count for something, he thought, warming slightly to his squadron’s new home.

  The rest of the Black Stars followed him smartly, 17 in total after Bogdan, six full crews for the RIC’s 3-man Karnikov fighter-bombers. Their dark gray flight suits provided protection against both gee forces and the vacuum of space if their ships were breached.

  The bay was a loud and busy place, the tools of the maintenance crews echoing noisily off the high ceilings. There were various umbilicals attached to the fighters, hissing as they pumped liquid nitrogen into the ships’ cooling tanks and flame retardant foam into the damage control systems. Not for the first time, Bogdan appreciated the massive amount of logistics required to send his 18 warriors into battle. Without all this, he thought, we might as well be throwing rocks. A lot of pilots failed to adequately appreciate their maintenance crews, but Pavel Bogdan wasn’t one of them.

  He climbed through the small hatch into the fighter-bomber’s main compartment, twisting his body to get through the narrow access tube. Why don’t they make those damned things bigger, he thought for the hundredth time?

  He slid himself over to the pilot’s seat and dropped into place. He started to run his preflight checks as he always did, though he was aware his support team had already done that. His backup people were the best, and he knew it. In five years flying with this team, he’d never found a problem they hadn’t. He glanced at the monitors. There were six small indicators, and five of them were lit. While he was looking the last one came on, its soft white glow confirming the last of his crew had boarded their craft.