The arrival of the ghost ship changed the situation. The Rewprexa had no choice. Command wanted that mystery ship dead, and glory would go to the crew of any ship that ended that scourge. Unending shame and scorn would follow the crew who failed to aggressively engage in a fight with the ghost ship. Ignoring the three battleships that were now firing on the Vardenox with renewed vigor, the other heavy cruiser raced ahead, taking time only to launch a trio of missiles at the disabled battleship along the way.
Then, to the secret relief of the Rewprexa’s crew, the ghost ship was consumed by the fireball that was left of the Vardenox.
“We’re alive?” That may have been the stupidest thing I ever said. Really, I should make a list and have people vote on it, because I have said a LOT of really stupid stuff.
“Yes,” Skippy snapped. “Have a little faith, will you? We got scorched a bit, that’s all.”
“Then why is the display blank?” It was not actually blank, most of it was showing static, alternating with guesses about the position of enemy ships we couldn’t see.
“Because, dumdum, the sensors are resetting. While they catch up, I am feeding my own data. Whoo, that was a close one! Maybe we shouldn’t have-”
The deck rocked, hard enough that the restraints tugged me back in the chair. “What was that?”
“Railgun dart,” Skippy mumbled. “Where did that come from? Hmm, must have been fired by that other cruiser. Before you ask, I don’t think they can see us yet. Based on when it must have been launched, that dart was fired before we blew up the first ship. Sensors are clearing now, there are still a lot of high-energy particles flying around out there. Joe, we’re in good shape, but that other cruiser will see us before we can get a target lock on it. It would be a good idea if we put some distance between us and the enemy.”
“Crap. No, we can’t do that. We have a reputation as a fearsome ghost ship, we can’t run away from a single cruiser.”
“Then we should do something else, before they hit us with everything they have. Missile-defense sensors are still blinded. We could take a lot of hits, Joe.”
“We are going to do something,” I decided in a flash of inspiration. “Reed, turn us toward that other cruiser’s last reported position, and step on it.”
“Toward them?” Skippy screeched. “We’re getting closer? This is your plan?”
“Trust me on this one.”
The crew of the heavy cruiser Rewprexa, having to that point sustained no damage in the raging battle, was overjoyed when they saw the ghost ship being consumed by the fireball that had been their sister ship. Their AI confirmed the crew’s immediate expectation that no ship so close to that explosion could escape without serious damage. The ship’s AI initially calculated a thirty-one percent chance that the ghost ship had been torn apart, though it cautioned too little was known of the mysterious ship’s capabilities.
Hearing that the ghost ship might no longer exist did not please the Rewprexa’s crew. If that were true, the glory would go to the deceased losers of the Vardenox, who had given their lives to save the Maxolhx Hegemony from the scourge of the ghost ship. Especially since the Vardenox’s crew had not given their lives at all, their own inept fumbling had killed them.
Those jerks.
When the blast was not followed by an enormous secondary explosion, the AI declared hopefully that the ghost ship was very likely drifting, stricken and without power. That was the best outcome for the crew of the Rewprexa. They could have the honor of finishing off the scourge of the space lanes, and everyone would forget about the dead losers of their sister ship. The AI announced it had a ninety-two percent confidence in its assessment, and the captain ordered weapons held ready to adapt to the situation, once the targeting sensors located what remained of the ghost ship.
Until the targeting sensors began screaming a warning, as the ghost ship charged out of the plasma cloud, flying straight at the Rewprexa! On the display, the shocked crew saw the enemy’s hull glowing as that ship’s shields shed plasma and exotic radiation.
The Rewprexa’s AI scrambled to evaluate the unexpected situation, immediately concluding the ghost ship must be far more powerful than any mere Extinction-class battlecruiser.
The ship’s captain froze for a moment, to her own shame.
The crew looked to their captain for guidance, and for hope. The ghost ship had taken everything a heavy cruiser could throw at it, including the Vardenox itself, and was still capable of combat.
The moment of hesitation was broken when a message was received from the ghost ship. Do you wish to engage, the message read simply.
The captain, crew and AI of the Rewprexa very much did not wish to engage the enemy at that moment. Or ever.
Exploiting a temporary weakness in the damping fields saturating the battlespace, the surviving heavy cruiser made a clumsy and noisy jump away, then another jump as soon as the ship’s strained jump drive could manage.
“Huh,” Skippy said quietly.
“That,” I said while tensing my shoulders so the bridge crew did not see me shudder with relief. “Is called bluffing, Skippy.”
“You took one hell of a risk, Joe. Fighting a heavy cruiser right now would be an iffy proposition for us. Our point defense sensors are almost blind, and the shield generators-”
“As you are fond of telling me, bluffing really didn’t have much of a downside. If we had run in the opposite direction, could we have jumped away before that ship was in weapons range?”
“No. Well, probably not. Our jump drive got dorked up by the explosion.”
“Right, that’s what I figured. Plus, we are the fearsome ghost ship, scourge of the space lanes. Running away from a single ship was not an option. Ok, Simms?”
“Sir?”
“Drop our damping field. Skippy, signal those three battleships to jump away soon as they can. Suggest they make the longest jump their drives can handle. We will assist the disabled ship, if we can.”
“Aye aye,” Simms acknowledged, and we waited anxiously as one, then another battleship disappeared in a burst of gamma rays.
“Skippy,” I squeezed the armrests. “What the hell is that third ship waiting for?” On the display, I could see the strength of the rapidly-dissipating damping field around that battleship was wavering between the green and yellow indicators. “Is its drive damaged?” That could be a big problem for us, we did not want witnesses hanging around. The next part of the operation was already distasteful. Adding another dead ship to our list of crimes was not part of the plan.
“Their drive is not the problem, Joe,” he said with a sound like grinding his teeth together. “The problem is, they want to be heroes.”
“Ah, shit. They want to join us?”
“Of course they do, Joe. This should not be a surprise.”
“It’s not. It is a pain in the ass. Tell them thank you, but, uh, the best way they can participate in our glorious struggle against oppression is to evac the people on Vua- Whatever it’s called. You know, use your best revolutionary fervor bullshit.”
“Ok,” he chuckled. “I am basing my latest inspiring revolutionary rant on the collected speeches of Fidel Castro. That should do it.”
My knowledge of history, like my knowledge of most things, was sketchy. “Because Castro was such a great speaker?”
“No, because he was such a pompous windbag, he never knew when to shut the hell up. I expect that battleship to jump away, just so they don’t have to listen to me anymore. And, yes! That ship just jumped. We’re good.”
“We’re not good,” I corrected him. “We are far from good,” I added to myself, and Simms caught my eye. She nodded. Neither of us liked the next part. “We’re the opposite of good. XO, do we have a favorable firing solution?”
“Just about optimal, Sir,” she reported sourly. In most situations, having an optimal solution would make the officer at the weapons station happy. Not this time.
“Launch one,” I gave her a thumbs up for encouragement.
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“One away.”
Clearing my throat, I waited until everyone was looking in my direction. “People, nobody likes what we have to do. We don’t have a choice, at least, not one that I know of. We’ve been causing havoc all across Maxolhx space, and striking fear into the heart of the enemy. We have destroyed more than forty ships. We are all proud of our accomplishments, and we all know those attacks are only pinpricks to the Maxolhx. This operation is our chance to be more than an annoying distraction. We can hurt them, strike a blow against not only their Cee Three capabilities, but their belief in their own superiority. To do that, we need to take an action that none of us are happy about. Remember, these birds, these vultures, would nuke our homeworld to ash if they had the chance.”
From the pilot station, Reed nodded once, emphatically. No one said anything.
“Ok,” I took a breath. “Skippy, signal that battleship we will render assistance, and, that they need to be wary of stealthed Maxolhx missiles flying around.” That part was true, and that was why even ships that had won a battle had to be careful about loitering in the battlespace. Enemy missiles that had missed their targets would be seeking another opportunity to strike a target.
“Got it, Joe,” Skippy’s glum tone told me he wasn’t any happier than I was. “That battleship is already pinging away with active sensors. It won’t do them much good,” he sighed. “Their sensor suite got pretty much fried. Our missile doesn’t need its enhanced stealth capability.”
“Yeah, well, stick to the plan.”
The crew of the battleship was overjoyed when the ghost ship blew up one enemy cruiser, scared away another, and then approached to rescue the survivors. More than half of the Bosphuraq ship’s crew was dead already, and the survivors knew their ship was no longer capable of combat. The best they could hope for was to be picked up by another warship, to continue taking the fight to their hated patrons. Best of all, beyond the wildest hopes of anyone aboard, they would be taken aboard the fearsome ghost ship! Yes, they could strike a powerful blow against the enemy, as new recruits to the mysterious scourge of the space lanes. They-
The missile warning sounded only two seconds before impact, not enough time for the point-defense system to even begin to calculate a firing solution for the few maser cannons that were active.
“That’s it.” I announced without joy. And without necessity, for everyone on the bridge had seen the damaged Bosphuraq battleship blow up. “Simms, launch the package.”
“Package is away.”
“Skippy, broadcast a general message for ships to be wary of missiles in the battlespace. Pilot, wait ten seconds, then jump us away.”
The package launched shortly before we jumped was a modified sensor probe. It wasn’t fast or powerful and it didn’t need either of those qualities. It was small and stealthy, and its payload had been replaced with a trio of bots. On its own, the package used passive sensors to scan the area, identified the best target, and it carefully approached a section of the battleship we had blown to pieces. Within twenty-eight minutes of launching, it had matched course and speed with the tumbling and scorched section of what was once a proud battleship, a ship that had defied its cruel masters.
Latching onto the wreck, the package released the bots, two of which scurried along the interior, ignoring shattered and frozen body fragments. Reaching a heavily-armored magazine, they easily cracked the encryption on the door mechanism, and planted our pixies. On the way out, they erased any evidence of having been there.
The third bot made a beeline for a data access point, and hacked into what remained of the local network. That bot planted highly-encrypted evidence that the Bosphuraq had broken the secret of how pixies operated. The evidence we planted was deliberately vague and corrupted, and would only be believed by someone who had seen the actual pixies. The database could be misdirection. No way could the kitties ignore finding actual pixies.
We hoped.
The heavy cruiser Rewprexa waited a carefully calculated amount of time before returning near the battlespace. Ordinarily, the time would be calculated to avoid enemy missiles lurking in the area. That was not why the heavy cruiser hesitated. First, they waited at a distant point to detect the extremely faint gamma ray signature of the ghost ship jumping away. Curiously, that was detected shortly after the disabled Bosphuraq battleship exploded, an event that had no immediate explanation. If they survived, the Rewprexa’s crew planned to claim one of their missiles had destroyed their client’s traitorous battleship, and they were already altering the flight recorder data to match their version of events.
After seeing the ghost ship jump away, the delay in returning was a two-factor calculation. First, how long should they wait to make sure the ghost ship was not waiting nearby to ambush them? Second, how long could they wait before their fleet command accused them of cowardice? The captain waited until they were perilously close to the cowardice deadline, then warily jumped in.
The battlespace was empty, other than cold, floating debris and echoing radiation. Ready to jump away at any moment, the Rewprexa launched probes to explore the wreckage, the crew irritated at needing to follow procedure and expecting to find nothing of interest.
They were very much wrong about that.
“This is,” Admiral Urkan paused, scraping a claw along the side of his desk. The desk was well-worn from his habit of dragging a sharp nail along the tough and expensive wood. He could have chosen a standard desk made of composites or some exotic material for the desk, instead he had selected wood from trees that were native to the home planet of the Rindhalu. The trees no longer grew on that world, only single-celled organisms survived there now.
He liked the wood for several reasons. For visitors, the wood’s distinctive patterns told them that he had the position and power to demand a rare item. For him, it was a prideful reminder that his species had captured and still held the homeworld of his enemy. It was also a warning of what could happen to his people, if their military faltered in their vigilance.
He scraped the nail back toward himself, feeling the wood give beneath the pressure. The fact that he dared damage such an expensive item, deliberately damaged it, was a statement of his place in society. At the top of society.
“This is interesting,” he concluded, having sought a neutral word.
“Yes,” Illiath agreed with equal neutrality, having been warned against displaying unseemly enthusiasm in the Admiral’s presence. Enthusiasm was a characteristic of children and amateurs. “That is why I persisted in my investigation.”
“You were remarkably thorough,” the Admiral observed, thinking that he would not have liked serving under such a meticulous officer. Also thinking that, whatever the result of her current assignment, Illiath was an officer to watch. She had a bright future, and perhaps he should consider attaching her, and her success, to his command.
“The enemy was remarkably thorough in their deception.”
“Hmm. Based on the facts available until you brought this,” he waved toward the document glowing in the hologram above his desk. “Rather far-fetched theory.” He did not use the word ‘information’ because Illiath’s report was not merely a dry list of facts. No, she had used those facts to weave together a theory, an intriguing theory. A theory that was entirely her own. “Based on all the data we have before your investigation, my staff concluded that a rogue faction of Bosphuraq destroyed the two ships we sent to the wormhole near Earth. That conclusion agrees with the official assessment of the Fleet Intelligence Division. Now, you have strung together a theory that calls into question the expert analysis of everyone other than yourself.”
Illiath did not give an inch under the Admiral’s stare. “They did not have access to the facts I have gathered during my investigation.”
His reply was a simple, noncommittal “Hmm.”
“Admiral, there are too many facts that do not support the initial conclusions of the Fleet Intelligence Division. The site of the battle that destro
yed our two ships contained anomalies we cannot explain.” Pausing to take a breath, she risked a look at the Admiral, using not only her eyes, but also the more delicate and useful sensors embedded throughout her skin. Interestingly, he was not using measures that could have blocked her sensors. His body language was casual, even bored. Yet his heartrate was elevated, and he was exuding distinctive pheromones of excitement. The pheromones not of fear, but of a predator on the hunt. He did not think her theory was wild and useless speculation. He thought she might be onto something, and he wasn’t bothering to conceal his interest.
“The Rindhalu?” He asked.
“We must believe either that our clients have leaped far beyond us in technology, or that our ancient enemy is deceiving us yet again.”
“Using the Bosphuraq against us?”
That was a part of her theory she did not have evidence for one way or another, and that made her uncomfortable. “Possibly. Though I doubt it. Letting another species do the work for them would be in keeping with the deceitfulness and laziness of our enemy. However, giving advanced technology to the Bosphuraq would ultimately be dangerous to the Rindhalu themselves.”
“The Bosphuraq could turn on the Rindhalu?”
“That also.” She withheld a shrug to avoid insulting the Admiral’s poor guess. “Their greatest concern should be that in the end, we will wring this technology out of our rebellious clients, and then we would make a technological leap. I think it is more likely that all the actions we have observed, including the ghost ship, are direct actions of our enemy. The Bosphuraq are not involved in any way, other than victims.”
“Victims,” the Admiral slapped his desk. “Who cheer in the streets when they hear another one of our warships has been destroyed by the ghost ship.” He considered the document for another moment, ignoring the junior officer. “If it is the Rindhalu, I can understand why they would use a ghost ship to terrorize us, and encourage our clients to falsely view us as weak and vulnerable.”
Valkyrie (Expeditionary Force Book 9) Page 37