by Jay Allan
He opened his eyes and stared at the monitor, grimly watching Mondragon’s ships vanish one by one as they went through the warp gate…and into the maw of the enemy.
“We’ve confirmed it three times, sir.” Tomasino turned to face Mondragon as he repeated himself. “We have data in from 38 out of 42 task force units. Only 21 enemy vessels have been detected, all positioned within 500,000 kilometers of the base.”
Mondragon stared back, his normally impassive face betraying his shock. He’d expected to find a massive battlefleet, not a few miscellaneous ships. It looked like a trap. It felt like a trap. There were many places in a solar system ships could hide from cursory scans, waiting to fire up their reactors and attack at the right moment. Perhaps there was a fleet of First Imperium Leviathans lurking in the outer system, lying dormant the way the force at Newton had. But Mondragon didn’t think so. It was just a feeling, one he couldn’t explain, but his gut was telling him the small force of ships his people had detected was all that was posted at Sigma 4.
Faucon was decelerating at 3g, low enough thrust to allow its crew to function close to 100% efficiency, albeit with some discomfort. She was moving quickly, though, the modest output of her engines barely slowing the 0.08c velocity she’d had when she entered the system. His other ships had scattered, some accelerating, some decelerating, others changing their vectors. The task force was performing a massive scanner sweep, covering the whole system, trying to find any hidden enemy presence. Even with 42 ships, meticulously searching an entire star system was a daunting task, but Mondragon was determined. If there was so much as an enemy robot out there ready to throw a rock at his people, they were going to find it.
“Direct 9th and 20th Squadrons to search the asteroid belt. Maximum dispersion so they can cover it as quickly as possible.” Quickly was a relative term. Interstellar travel made interplanetary space seem small by comparison, but a solar system was still vast in scope. A spaceship crawling around conducting scans was like a speck of dust. It would take weeks to conduct a true search of Sigma 4, and months to finish a really comprehensive scan. All Mondragon’s people could do was start with the likeliest locations and work down the list.
“And 13th and 33rd Squadrons are to advance at full thrust to the outer debris fields and begin a systematic sensor sweep.” Deep in the outer system was the easiest place to hide a force, but it was also far from the base on Sigma 4 II…a tough place to stage an ambush on a fleet attacking the planet. Still, he had to check it out. He couldn’t assume anything.
“I want 11th and 14th Squadrons to check out the possible warp gate location.” Preliminary scans had shown one likely spot for a second warp gate in the system, but it couldn’t be confirmed without closer inspection. “I want a definite ID here, no guesswork.” Mondragon knew there were at least two warp gates in the system…the one his people had come through, and one – or more – leading deeper into the First Imperium. Mapping the system and finding the entry points was crucial…before all of Grand Fleet arrived and got blindsided by an enemy force coming through an undiscovered warp gate.
“Yes, captain.” Tomasino hunched over the controls and relayed Mondragon’s orders. He turned back toward the command chair. “Captains Garcia and Leclerc confirm, sir.”
Mondragon nodded. “Instruct them to send a ship through immediately upon confirming the gate location. I want a preliminary report on the connecting system as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to look at the display, frowning as he usually did at the partial obstructions in his field of vision. Faucon’s bridge was a tight space, with a normal complement of five officers, including the captain. They’d crammed in two extra chairs to turn her into a flagship, an accommodation that made things extremely cozy for Mondragon and his staff. His own command chair ended up behind a structural member, and he was having a hard time getting used to it. Attack ships not attached to battlegroups had traditionally been deployed individually or in small HK squadrons. A 3 or 4 vessel group could be run by a senior captain doubling as squadron leader, but not one of more than 40 ships. A task force comprised entirely of attack ships was a new development, one forged in the specific realities of this war. We really need a new design, he thought, a ship big enough to serve as a flagship, but small and fast enough to keep up with the rest of the boats.
The tactical display showed the approximate location of the 42 fast attack ships in Mondragon’s task force. The screen was updated in real time, but with some of the scouts over a light hour away from the flagship, the data was outdated, especially for the ships furthest out. The AI could project current locations based on last known vectors and velocities, modified by orders and directives currently in force. But Mondragon’s captains had wide latitude on this mission, and there was no way to know exactly when and where they chose to apply thrust. Even after two and a half decades of service, he was still uncomfortable dealing with the vast distances involved in spaceship operations and the time delay effects of lightspeed communications. It always troubled him to think that the vessel we was watching on the monitor could be destroyed already, its crew dead…and he wouldn’t know for an hour or more.
“Prepare for maximum thrust, Lieutenant Tomasino.” Mondragon’s voice was loud and deliberative. He’d made a decision. “We are going to decelerate at full, commencing in five minutes.” On an Alliance ship, that five minutes would have been two. The Europan navy simply couldn’t match the levels of expertise found in the Alliance or Caliphate fleets. “I want us as close to the warp gate as possible.” He paused, then continued in a softer voice, half to himself, “At least until I can get updated orders from Admiral Jacobs.”
“Yes, sir.” Tomasino’s voice was edgy. Five minutes was tight timing for a Europan ship to get ready for full thrust.
“And prepare to launch a drone.” Mondragon was staring right at his tactical officer. “We need to tell Admiral Jacobs what we found.”
“I have a response from Admiral Compton, sir.” Carp was listening to the message on the headset as he spoke. “He reports the fleet is accelerating, and will arrive at the Sigma 4 warp gate in approximately 60 hours.”
Jacobs head spun around. They must be accelerating, and hard, he thought. Sixty hours was well ahead of the original schedule. Jacob’s people had just gotten the temporary Commnet station operating when Mondragon’s drone came through the warp gate, blasting along at almost 60g. Jacobs was stunned when he’d heard the drone’s message, and he immediately sent the data down the new Commnet lines to Compton.
Carp paused. “Sorry, sir. I’m getting this slowly.” He put his hand to his ear, pushing against the headset. “Admiral Compton’s reply is encrypted with a Zeta-1 code.” Zeta-1 was the Alliance’s most secure encoding system, and even a cruiser’s AI required time to decode it. No one had even figured out if the First Imperium forces understood human speech or communications. But Compton was clearly not in the mood to take chances.
“He advises that his current plan is to launch a lightning strike against the planet and the defending task force.” Compton had plenty of firepower to take out the enemy vessels…at least the ones they knew about. “You are ordered to leave one squadron of attack ships in Epsilon 3 and deploy the rest of the fleet to the scouting effort in Sigma 4 and any connecting systems, avoiding contact with the enemy fleet if possible.”
Jacobs sat motionless, listening to Carp relay Compton’s orders. He felt the tension in his gut, the tingling in his arms. They were going in. In less than 3 days they would be attacking a world of the First Imperium. Whatever happened, Jacobs knew it was a turning point in the war.
“You are further ordered to update the Epsilon 3 squadron every 4 hours with a consolidated report of all new scouting data.” Carp’s voice had remained steady, but Jacobs could hear the edginess there as well. His tactical officer knew what was happening too. “He closes with a direct message for you, sir.” Carp turned to face Jacobs. “Should
I send it to your com line, sir?”
Jacobs nodded. “Yes.” He subconsciously put his hand to the side of his head, checking his earpiece, making sure it was in place. “Immediately.”
Carp turned back to his station, moving his hands over one of the touchscreens. “Coming through now, sir.”
“Hello Mike.” It was Compton’s voice. Despite the massive encryption and subsequent decoding, the tone was perfect…just like Terrance Compton was standing next to him speaking into his ear. “I’m sure you’d agree, things are happening a little faster than we’d expected. That’s war, though…and especially against these SOBs. If there’s one thing we can expect, it’s the unexpected.”
Jacobs was trying not to assume too much from Compton’s tone, especially since his voice had been encrypted and decoded. The Fleet admiral was a hard book to read, but he sounded edgy, as if he’d made a decision because he had to, but was far from certain about his choice. “I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you haven’t considered, but of course I’m worried this is some sort of trap. We all expected more enemy strength in Sigma 4, which is why we’ve got every decent warship we could find en route.”
There was a pause, unusual in an encoded transmission. Compton must have hesitated, and the AI preserved the gap in the coding. “Whatever the risk, however, I don’t think we can pass up the chance to move on this. We’re out here to find an enemy weakness, and I can’t think of anything more potentially useful than seizing their base. Maybe General Sparks and his people can find something there we can use. I’ve only got half the fleet with me, but it’s still more strength than we had at any of the Line worlds.”
Jacobs took a deep breath as he listened. He agreed with everything Compton was saying, but his stomach was clenched anyway. Terrance Compton had a reputation as the best poker player in the fleet…but now he was about to go all in with the cream of mankind’s warships. If he was wrong, if it was a trap and the fleet was lost, there wouldn’t be enough strength left to mount a credible defense. The war would be over, except for the mopping up. Jacobs had been uncomfortable with his new responsibilities…he didn’t envy Compton the crushing pressure of his own.
“I’m taking a big risk here, Mike, and I need your help.” His voice became softer…more like asking a friend for help than a commander giving an order. “I’m going to bring the fleet in and move on the planet before the enemy can get more strength up here. But I need to know exactly what we’re facing. I need you to be OCD on this, Mike. Anything…if you think something smells funny, if you get a weird feeling in your gut...I need to hear it immediately.”
Compton paused again, longer this time. “I’m counting on you to keep me apprised. I know you’re the right man for the job. What you did in getting Hornet back home was nothing short of heroic, and all the congratulations and rewards you got were less than you deserved.” There was emotion in Compton’s voice, and admiration that sounded very genuine. “I need that now…whatever you pulled out from inside yourself then. I need to know everything. Everything. And I’m trusting you, Mike. I’m trusting you with my life. With all our lives.”
Jacobs took a breath again, finding it difficult to draw it in deep. He was gratified at Compton’s words, but the pressure of what the fleet admiral was saying hit him like a sledgehammer.
“We’re on the way, Mike,” Compton continued. “I’m expecting you to have that system mapped out 100% by the time we get there. Good luck, Admiral Jacobs. And Godspeed.”
The transmission ended, leaving Jacobs sitting in his command chair, trying to hide the fact that he was gasping for breath. He closed his eyes, shutting out most of his thoughts and trying to focus, to gain control of himself. He had a job to do now, the most important one he’d ever had, and he wasn’t going to sit here and fold under the stress.
“Commander Carp…” Somehow Jacobs managed to sound confident and commanding, no trace of fear in his voice. “…the fleet will prepare to move out.”
Chapter 11
AS Pershing
Omicron 7 System
En Route from Sandoval to Sigma 4
“Welcome to Grand Fleet, Admiral Arlington.” Augustus Garret spoke pleasantly, his tone relaxed. Arlington was one of his most junior admirals, but he had a lot of confidence in her, and he was glad to have her in the fold. He’d tried to make her an admiral three times before he actually managed it, but she kept refusing the star, choosing instead to remain Admiral Compton’s flag captain.
Garret knew there had been more than duty involved in that choice. Terrance Compton and Elizabeth Arlington were the fleet’s worst-kept secret, though, in truth, there was nothing there that required secrecy. Despite their obvious feelings for each other, Compton would never act on any of it…not while she was under his command. That was one reason Garret had assigned her to his own staff instead of Compton’s, but now distance had replaced duty as the problem standing in their way. After this campaign, Garret thought…I’ll make sure they have their opportunity. He was committed to seeing his friend get his chance at happiness. Garret had sacrificed love to duty once before. It was long ago, but not a day went by that he didn’t remember, even forty years later. He wasn’t going to let Compton make the same mistake he did.
As welcome as Arlington herself was, the task force she’d led from the Wolf 359 shipyards was appreciated even more. Five capital ships and a squadron of cruisers, the most recently repaired vessels from the Alliance’s massive shipbuilding complex. None of them were in perfect shape, and a few were barely combat-capable, but repairs took time and the war wouldn’t wait. Now was the time…Garret and his people would find a way to beat the First Imperium now, or the war would be lost…maybe not immediately, but eventually. Holding anything back was a fool’s game, a meaningless concession to fear that Garret refused to make. Arlington had waited until the last possible moment to allow as much work to be completed as possible, just as her orders specified, and then she’d led everything that could keep pace away from Wolf 359 to meet up with Garret and the rest of the fleet.
“Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to be here.” She sounded tired and a little worn out. She’d been working around the clock at Wolf 359, staying on the crews, making sure the work got done as quickly as possible. But that wasn’t the only thing affecting her. She’d just found out that Compton had led half the fleet to Sigma 4. Terrance Compton was a brilliant commander, one who would have been hailed an unmatched legend if he hadn’t been born in the same generation as Augustus Garret. He was more cautious than Garret…to a point. But he was also a creature of duty. If he believed sacrificing himself and half the fleet would help the Alliance win the war, he’d do it without a second thought. She was worried…and if Compton was going to throw himself into the maelstrom, she wanted to be with him.
Garret could see her tension. “He’ll be fine, Elizabeth. Don’t worry. We’ll be heading out in less than an hour to join him.” He smiled, giving her a relaxed stare. It was mostly phony…he was just as worried about Compton as she was. “Terry can take care of himself for a few weeks until we get there.” He could see in her expression, she wanted to believe what he was saying. “Really…the grouchy SOB has saved my life more than once. He knows his stuff. He won’t do anything crazy.” Garret wished he believed that last part, but he knew better than anyone that Compton wouldn’t shy away from a fight if he thought it was the right move.
She gave Garret a fragile smile. She wasn’t really convinced, but she was trying. “Thank you, sir.” Then, changing the subject: “What would you like me to do now, admiral?” She knew she wouldn’t be commanding the flotilla she’d brought from Wolf 359. It was a hodgepodge of ships assembled on the basis of readiness, not balance, and the vessels would likely be doled out to the existing task forces in the fleet. Besides, it was much too large a force to be assigned to one of the most junior admirals in the navy…not to mention the other fleets of the Grand Pact.
“Well, Elizabeth…I was wonderin
g how you’d feel about serving as my chief of staff for the campaign.” Garret looked at her intently. “Interested?”
Arlington was silent, a stunned look on her face. She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again wordlessly.
“Yes, you are completely qualified…and you are ready too.” Garret smiled as he answered her unspoken questions. “And I trust you, which isn’t something I say lightly about anyone. I’d be personally grateful if you’d agree to help me out by taking the post.” Dirty pool, Garret thought to himself…there’s no way she can turn it down now.
“Thank you, sir. It would be an honor.” She had a tentative smile on her face. Her emotions were an odd mix – pride, satisfaction, blind terror.
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. As soon as I get up to the flag bridge I’ll make it official fleetwide.” The smile was still on Garret’s face. “You’ll be speaking with my authority, but go easy on them, ok?” He winked at her. “Unless you need to kick their asses, that is.”
She grinned. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” He snapped her a sharp salute, one she returned even more crisply. “Now go check in with Commander Warrenton, and he’ll get you set up in your quarters. Take your time and get settled in and, when you’re ready, come see me on the flag bridge.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She started to turn to go.