by Jay Allan
Then the screen went bright white, answering her question immediately. The scanners were almost overloaded…and the massive enemy vessel was nothing but a rapidly expanding ball of plasma.
“Scratch one battlewagon.” Her raw voice cracked as she screamed. She turned and looked over at Wilder. “Take us home, commander.” She paused, a wicked grin on her face. “We’re done here.”
“Prepare the fleet for full forward thrust.” Compton sat upright in his chair, a barely perceptible smile on his lips. Duke’s and Hurley’s people had performed phenomenally. Both Leviathan’s were gone…the attack ships and the bombers each got one, so the battle honors were pretty even. “We will be accelerating at 30g in ten minutes.”
“Yes, admiral.” Harmon sounded surprised. He’d expected Compton to remain where he was and fight it out in place.
The enemy fleet was badly damaged…even critically wounded. But it was still dangerous. His fighters had flown two sorties and suffered 50% combined losses. John Duke was down to 28 attack ships still in operating condition. The fleet had expended all its missiles and laser buoys. There was nothing left but to finish off the enemy with an energy weapons duel. And Compton had no intention of sitting in place while the enemy raked his ships with their particle accelerators. He was going to close as quickly as possible to get his lasers in range too. Then, he thought, at least we’ll have an honest fight.
Accelerating now would mean getting everyone in the couches. He didn’t like having his people strapped in and drugged up in the middle of a battle, but this time there was no way out of it. Every kilometer he closed with the enemy was that much less time for them to ravage his ships before his people could return fire.
“All ships perform diagnostics on laser batteries and targeting systems.” He snapped out the order. “I want every vessel ready to fire at full the second we’re in range.”
“Yes, admiral.” Harmon’s voice was crisp and confident. It had taken him a few seconds, but he understood what Compton was doing. He was amazed at how Compton’s mind worked through each detail, every angle…trying to find any advantage he could gain. That’s what makes him a legendary commander, he thought…and if the legends are true, such a good card player too.
Compton sat quietly for a few minutes before lying back as his chair converted itself to the acceleration couch that would keep him alive. Midway’s massive engines would soon be blasting at over 30g, and that would create serious problems for anyone onboard who wasn’t buttoned up.
This is it, he thought, lying back, eyes shut as the couch closed up around him…this is the death struggle. His layered attack had ravaged the enemy. There wasn’t an undamaged ship in the force still heading for his fleet. But that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. The battle’s won, he thought…as long as you don’t make any mistakes and give it away.
Now go do the work, he thought, as he felt the massive kick of Midway’s engine burn. He felt his consciousness slipping, his focus weakening…the drugs kicking in, their effect exacerbated by the intense pressure. He drifted off, his mind hanging onto that one thought…just do the work.
Chapter 29
Bridge – AS Pershing
Sigma 4 System
3,000,000 kilometers from Sigma 4 II
Garret sat in his command chair, staring impatiently at the main display while he waited for word from the planet. He’d pulled his ships out of orbit, and he wasn’t going to move them back until he knew for damned sure what was hidden there. The fleet was in a dispersed formation, several hundred thousand kilometers from Sigma 4 II…just in case they uncloaked some type of fortress or superweapon and it came out blasting.
He hadn’t withdrawn every vessel…Sarah Linden had demanded he leave three of her medical support ships in orbit, insisting that moving them would be tantamount to murdering several thousand of 1st Army’s most seriously wounded troopers. He suspected she was exaggerating, but he wasn’t going to argue with her...he trusted her judgment completely. And she was as stubborn as Erik Cain. However, the rest of the fleet was as safe as he could make it…at least until they knew what was important enough for the enemy to hide.
“Still nothing, sir.” Commander Tara Rourke was new to Garret’s staff. So far he was extremely pleased with her performance. He’d picked her to replace Max Harmon when he’d reluctantly given the recuperated Compton his tactical officer back.
Rourke had reprogrammed the scanners three times, sweeping the area for anything, even the slightest anomaly or trace of a signal. There was nothing. Whatever the enemy was hiding, their jammer was proof against human scanning technology. “Perhaps if I increase the probe overlaps to 100%?”
Garret sat for a few seconds, thinking silently. “Negative, commander.” He paused, looking like he might change his mind, but then he shook his head. “There’s no point wasting so many drones. We’re not going to find anything until they knock out that jammer.” He glanced at the chronometer. “Which should be just about any time now.” He looked back at the glowing blue numerals of the clock. At least I hope it won’t be much longer, he thought…what is taking you guys so long?
Garret had expected the signal by now, but there had been nothing but silence. He’d almost called down to the planet twice, but he stopped himself. Be patient, he thought…this is a huge job, and they’ll get it done as quickly as they can.
“We’re getting a signal, admiral.” Rourke turned to look over at Garret. “It’s from General Holm.” Pershing was about 7 light seconds from planet, making conversations possible but annoying. But it didn’t matter…Holm had just sent a one way message. “Transferring it to your com, sir.”
“Very well, commander.” Garret flipped a switch on his workstation and the familiar voice of Elias Holm was piped into his helmet.
“Augustus, sorry this took so long. This enemy equipment is amazingly complex.” Holm’s voice sounded a bit odd…edgy. Being around First Imperium technology tended to make people nervous, even when it wasn’t actively trying to kill them. It was humbling to be surrounded by machinery built by a race that had been there thousands of years before.
“We’re all set. Send a signal when you’re ready, and we’ll cut this thing’s power. Hopefully.” Holm chuckled softly. “Actually, Friederich is pretty sure he’s located all the power conduits, so we expect this to work.” Holm paused briefly. “Good luck up there, Augustus.”
Garret looked over at Rourke. “Bring the fleet to red alert, commander.”
Rourke acknowledged the order and relayed it to the rest of the fleet. Garret sat quietly, waiting until every vessel had responded. Grand Fleet, his half of it anyway, was ready for whatever was about to happen. As ready as he could make it, at least.
“Send a response to General Holm, commander.” He took a deep breath. “We are ready. You are authorized to proceed as soon as you are able.”
“Yes sir.” Rourke sounded a little nervous herself. No one knew what was going to happen when the crews on the surface blew those power lines, and imaginations were running wild. “Message sent sir.”
Garret leaned back and looked out over the flag bridge. Fighting and maneuvering in space require enormous patience, something he’d learned from 40 years at war. But now it was failing him…he was anxious, nervous.
“I have a confirmation from the planet, sir. They are cutting the power immediately.”
“All ships…scanners on full power. Anybody falls asleep at their post, they’re going to be scraping the inside of a fusion core.” Garret was watching his own display as he spoke, waiting to see what happened when the enemy jamming was cut.
“Yes, sir. All vessels confirm…” Rourke stopped abruptly and snapped her head around. “We have a contact, admiral.”
Garret was already staring at his screen. There it was, orbiting the planet’s moon. It was fairly small, a sphere about 100 meters in diameter. “I see it, commander.” The data was just starting to come in. It didn’t appear to mount any weapons
or engines, but there was a significant energy output. “Now if we can just figure out what it is.”
The AIs were analyzing the data too, streaming updated information to the workstations. Garret was reading, ignoring most of what passed by his eyes, looking for something that might give a clue as to what the thing was. He finally focused on a small block of numbers followed by a few lines of text. He read it three times, unable to turn his eyes away. “Oh my God.”
The admiral’s conference room on Pershing was large. Located just off the flag bridge, it bore a superficial resemblance to the board room any large company might possess. On closer inspection it was quite different, and considerable concessions had been made to the needs of space travel and combat. The seats were plush but also designed for stability. Far bulkier than a terrestrial office chair, they had heavy straps and small med units built into them. The meeting chairs didn’t convert into acceleration couches, but they did offer considerable protection to occupants at anything up to around 10g…and they could deliver a quick stim or anti-rad shot if it was needed.
Garret sat at the head of the table. The admiral’s chair was bigger and more complicated than the others, connected to a sophisticated communications network tied into the fleetcom system. In theory, the admiral could direct the entire fleet, even fight a battle, from his chair. But Garret wasn’t monitoring anything; he wasn’t reading any reports. He was completely focused on the presentation he was watching. Friederich Hofstader was trying to explain the incredible device they’d just found.
“The object contains not just antimatter, but some previously unknown manifestation of highly concentrated antimatter.” Hofstader couldn’t hide the amazement in his voice. What he was describing was as far ahead of Earth science as a spaceship was over a canoe. “I have run several estimates, utilizing the data from our scans. The density of that material is approximately equal to that of Uranium 235. I cannot, as of now, even guess if we are dealing with actual anti-uranium or if it is some other form of antimatter entirely unknown to us.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It is theoretically possible, of course, to form any element on the periodic table from antimatter, however we have only been able to produce five of the smallest…and those only in trace quantities. The processes and energies required to produce large quantities of anti-elements with high atomic numbers are simply incalculable to us.”
Hofstader was standing to the side of the table, his eyes moving from one occupant to the next. The sizable room was mostly empty, just a small cluster of occupied chairs at one end of the table. The gathering was small, but the subject matter was extremely important. They were discussing the most amazing artifact ever discovered by man…and trying to figure if there was a way to use it to defeat the enemy. Hofstader was nervous, and he didn’t like trying to explain something so complex on so little research. He wished he had a year to study the alien device. Ten years.
General Holm was watching silently. He hadn’t offered any comments or asked any questions. Holm was usually silent when the topic became highly technical. His leadership skills were beyond question, but Elias Holm had never been strong in the sciences, and he followed the discussion only with great difficulty. Though he’d never admitted it, he tended to be embarrassed by his lack of knowledge on the subject, which was one reason he kept his mouth shut.
Erik Cain was watching too. He had remained quiet as well, though his reasons were different from Holm’s. Cain was able to follow Hofstader quite well. He’d enjoyed the sciences in training and at the Academy, and he was more knowledgeable than even his close comrades would have guessed. But Cain tended to be guarded, keeping what he knew to himself unless there was a compelling reason to do otherwise. It was habit, an offshoot of his suspicious, cynical personality.
Cameron Francis was Thomas Sparks’ protégé, second in command of the Corps’ research division. An accomplished and capable engineer, he’d always been overshadowed by his brilliant boss. He was sliding around uncomfortably in his chair. He understood Hofstader better than anyone else present, but he still felt inadequate to the task of filling Sparks’ shoes. And he’d had even less time than Hofstader to examine the alien device.
“We already knew the enemy was well ahead of us, Friederich. Especially regarding antimatter.” Garret was twirling a small stylus nervously as he spoke. He was concentrating on Hofstader, but his mind was also wandering to Compton and the rest of the fleet. He’d been surprised not to find them at Sigma 4, and he was concerned about what was going on in X1…or X2 or wherever Compton had gone.
“Yes, admiral, you are correct. However, this device and its contents are far beyond any other enemy technology we have seen to date.” Hofstader glanced down at the ‘pad he’d laid on the table. “Let me quote some figures to give a clearer insight into this device and its power. There is an inner sphere of antimatter held within the mechanism’s magnetic fields. This…” He paused, fishing around for the right word. “…payload, for lack of a better term…is 48 meters in diameter, and it is 1.3 million tons in mass.” He stopped, letting that sink in. “If that amount of antimatter is allowed to annihilate, the resulting explosion will measure approximately 50 petatons.” Another pause. “Fifty million gigatons.”
There was a long silence. Everyone in the room was staring at Hofstader, but no one spoke. Finally, Garret took a deep breath and said, “So, this is a bomb then. A very big one.” There were a few very brief chuckles around the room. No one was in much of a mood for humor.
“Indeed, admiral, I believe you are correct. I cannot think of any alternative reason to go to the expense and risk of producing such dense antimatter unless the purpose was to make an astonishingly powerful, yet highly portable weapon.”
Garret looked down at the table, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can’t imagine it would be cost-effective for space combat. Certainly, it could destroy an individual ship of any size within a wide area. But I can’t believe it would be worth this concentration of resources to accomplish that.” He looked up at Hofstader. “And while I don’t have a ready conception of the area of effect of a weapon like this, I still find it unlikely that more than one ship would be within its kill zone. Certainly no more than two.” Navy ships were deployed at considerable distances from each other. Even a dense formation allowed at least a thousand kilometers between vessels.
“You are correct, admiral.” Hofstader had already considered everything Garret was now going through…and in roughly the same order. “I have taken into consideration every permutation I could devise…and I cannot conceive of any purpose for this weapon. Save one.” He panned around the room quickly before focusing on Garret. “I believe it is intended for use against enemy planets.”
A ripple of soft whispers and deep breaths worked its way around the table. Most of those present were nodding, having found their way to the same conclusion. Garret broke the near-silence. “So it’s a planet destroyer?” It was half statement, half question.
Hofstader let out a deep breath. “Not technically, admiral. At least not in the sense of physically destroying an Earth-sized world. As large as this weapon is, vastly more energy would be required to accomplish that.” Hofstader walked slowly along the edge of the table. “Although as a practical matter, I believe your statement to be correct. A detonation of that size would almost certainly destroy all life on a planet and render it permanently uninhabitable. Depending on specifics, it might also be sufficient to destabilize a world’s orbit, with obvious cataclysmic consequences.”
“Sowing the ground with salt.” Cain’s voice was soft, barely a whisper.
“What?” Garret turned and looked at Cain, just as everyone else was doing.
Erik looked up, startled from his musing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was just thinking.”
“What were you thinking, Erik?” It was Holm this time. He’d been silent until now, but he wanted to hear Cain’s thoughts.
“I was just thinking of
the legend of Rome salting the ground where Carthage stood.”
Everyone was staring at Cain, with varying levels of confusion. Garret was the first one to speak. “I think we’re all familiar with the story, Erik. What does it have to do with our current situation or this new weapon?”
Cain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t intended to get this involved in the discussion. “I was just thinking that this device may tell us something about the enemy. About what to expect going forward.” He paused for a few seconds, but the expectant expressions all around pushed him on. “Destroying your enemy is one thing. I have to imagine…” He turned to face Hofstader. “…and tell me if I’m wrong Friederich…that it would be far more cost effective to build enough conventional nukes to lay waste to a planet and destroy all life on it.”
“Yes, General Cain.” Hofstader was nodding vigorously. “We can safely say that. By several orders of magnitude.”
“So why build this thing?” Cain’s voice was getting louder, more authoritative as he spoke. “I can think of only two reasons…and neither is good news with regard to our long term prospects of communicating or coexisting with them.” Not that Cain had any desire to coexist with the First Imperium. He wanted to destroy them, exterminate every trace that they had ever existed. He knew that was likely impossible, but it was what he craved. Maybe in a thousand years, mankind would have the power…but first they had to find a way to survive the current war.
The room was silent, everyone focusing on what Cain was saying. “The first possibility is pure megalomania…a feeling of superiority so profound that they have a compulsion not only to defeat or destroy an enemy, but to do so in a spectacular manner. To display their might for all the universe to see.” Cain took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling. “The second possibility that occurs to me is paranoia. True, uncontrollable paranoia. A world that is saturation bombed with nuclear weapons can be rehabilitated, at least theoretically. But one that has been stripped of its atmosphere, massively irradiated, and probably seismically damaged…that is an enemy planet that will never again threaten you.” Cain slid around uncomfortably in his chair as he finished speaking. He knew paranoia well. He controlled his own, kept it reasonably hidden…but Erik Cain agreed whole-heartedly with the concept of so completely destroying your enemies they could never again threaten you. He’d never had that power, but he knew if he ever did, he would use it.