War Fleet: Resistance

by Joshua James

  And then it came: a massive explosion from inside of the cargo-module.

  This did three things. First, it sent the module on a fast collision course towards the Extractor mining shuttle. Second, it ejected the artifact at great velocity in the direction of the Okranti. And third, it caused a massive plume of fire to launch out of the open bay doors.

  Of course, space being space, nobody heard the explosion. Olsen had often considered adding a sound-effects box to the CIC, just to augment the battle experience. But admittedly, that would be a waste of military resources. Meanwhile, Olsen dropped his coffee cup on the floor.

  “Redrock, evasive maneuvers,” he said.

  “What the—”

  All went silent as Olsen and the rest of the officers watched the Extractor spin off into space. A hatch had opened on one of the Okranti’s modules, which engulfed the object as soon as it entered the ship, the doors quickly snapping shut behind it. A massive white flare then bloomed, and the Okranti entered FTL-warp, leaving the Tapper alone in the Hardy-Myers section, surrounded by rocks and abandoned modules.

  “Sir,” Schmidt said. “High energy readings are coming from the remaining modules. They’re gonna blow.”

  “Dammit. They initialized a self-destruct. Get the shields up immediately. Redrock, you’re on your own out there. Get away from the module.”

  There was no response from the Extractor. The Tapper’s shields came to life a few seconds before the shield-generator lattice started to glow yellow. Then it exploded in a brilliant display of red-hot shrapnel and fiery clouds. Olsen kept his eye on the Extractor, praying that it would make it through. It was still spinning out of control, but the cargo-module had set it on its own course, like a billiard ball.

  That module exploded last, shortly after the weapon modules. The explosion from the cargo-module only barely scratched the shuttle. It didn’t look like it would damage it at all, but still, Olsen had no clue as to the state of the Extractor’s hull from the impact before.

  “Redrock, what’s your status?” he said. “Do you read?”

  Silence. Was Olsen going to have to send out an escape pod to investigate? He’d go out himself if he had to. Redrock had joined as an ensign pilot when Olsen had been just a lieutenant commander on the Grashorn, and he’d seen him rise to the best pilot in the squad before Olsen had ruined both of their careers.

  “Redrock, dammit. What happened out there? Report in.”

  A crackle came on the line, and then Kota answered. “Sir, I’m sorry. I only just managed to reach the controls.”

  “Kota, what happened? Redrock?”

  “He’s on the deck floor, sir, unconscious, but uh,” Kota’s voice was strained and shaky. “But breathing. We took a bad hit out here.”

  “Can you pilot the shuttle, Kota?”

  “Affirmative, sir. The controls seem to be working. I’ll initiate thrusters and bring her back in.”

  Olsen breathed a sigh of relief. “Schmidt, lower shields for the Extractor’s return. Kota, make sure you get him to sickbay immediately.”

  “Yes sir,” Kota replied, and Olsen didn’t listen to Schmidt’s response.

  “Sir.” Santiago turned to Olsen in alarm. “The Tauian ship is back.”

  Indeed, the sleekly-built ship was now there. Olsen had been so busy with the Extractor, he hadn’t even seen it uncloak. Damn, he was just about to go and call Fleet Admiral Brownstone to find out if she knew anything. “Hail the ship,” Olsen said. Hopefully, Ambassador Oort was still on their side.

  The Tauian’s skin was now emitting a shade of magenta. It turned its faceless head towards the screen. “Greetings, human,” it said. “I thought you might want to continue our conversation, and still I mean you no harm.”

  “Wonderful,” Olsen said. “Where did you just go? I would have thought you’d be able to provide some assistance, if this weapon was so important to you.”

  “My ship isn’t currently equipped for battle. Despite this, you seem to have handled yourself well, given the situation.”

  “We lost the weapon.”

  “You did,” the Tauian said, and then he fell silent.

  “Ambassador Oort, what is that thing capable of? We need to find out why the Arstans want it so badly. What does it do? Does it power another weapon? Is it a bomb?”

  “It has enough energy packed inside it to destroy a solar system.”

  Olsen felt his stomach drop. He glanced around. For once, the emotionless face of his XO was a welcome sight. It gave him something unremarkable to focus on. “That’s impossible.”

  Rob, who thought the statement was for him, nodded slightly. “Certainly outside any known weapons research that I’m privy to.”

  Oort waited patiently for Olsen to turn slowly back to the viewscreen. “You saw the levels of radiation it was emitting, did you not?” he said. “If launched with a sufficiently shielded warhead into a star, it will cause a supernova. In your language, should you have chosen to name it similarly to ourselves, you might have called it a spatial detonator.”

  Olsen felt a chill run down his spine at Oort’s calm explanation of such utterly incomprehensible destruction. Entire civilizations could be lost. Eons of history wiped out in the blink of an eye.

  Olsen needed to get in touch with the Admiralty ASAP. He cleared his dry throat. “You still didn’t tell me what the hell this spatial detonator is doing in the galaxy.”

  “It was created by a long-gone civilization, which ended up annihilating themselves through use of the weapon. After we’d discovered what happened, we decided to distribute these spatial detonators throughout the universe, so no one civilization could obtain an obscene amount and use it to obliterate another civilization. We’re neutral, watching the conflicts of the universe with interest. And when one weapon is found, we’re always sure to intervene.”

  “I see,” Captain Olsen said. “And do you approve of the Arstan taking the weapon?”

  “I cannot pass judgment without knowing their intentions.”

  “Question is, how did they know it was here in the first place?”

  “I do not know the answer to that question,” the Tauian replied, and his whole skin changed color to dark blue.

  “Then that’s what we need to find out. That, and how we can get the weapon back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and talk to my superiors.”

  “I wish you the best in your endeavor,” the Tauian replied, and before Olsen could say anything else, he cut off the channel. The display returned to the standard view of space, and Olsen saw the ship quickly cloak from view.

  He stood up, ordered a junior to get him a coffee, and told him where to deliver it.

  “Rob,” Olsen said before he left the room, “meet me in the vid-con room in five minutes. We have a crucial meeting with the fleet admiral.”

  “I’ll see you there, Captain,” the cyborg replied.

  12

  Olsen hated walking with mag-boots. It was okay when you were young, but he was well over fifty, and the extra strength it took to lift his feet off the ground wasn’t great on the joints. His officers had told him that he wasn’t doing it right. The boots came with a belt and a dial on each hip, for adjusting the strength of the magnets, but Olsen had never managed to master the coordination required to turn the dials up and down at the right times.

  Thus, he appreciated rooms like the vid-con that had artificial gravity and weren’t too big. It was situated bang in the center of the ship, right away from the bridge, so Olsen could still communicate with the Admiralty if he was below decks and CIC was overtaken by hostiles.

  Rob was already waiting in the meeting room when Olsen arrived. Unlike Olsen, the cyborg didn’t have problems using mag-boots. In fact, rumor had it he was the fastest crew member on the ship, with mag-boot usage being integrated into his programming. One day, Olsen planned to organize a race between Rob and the Marines to test this theory out.

  Rob saluted Olsen, and he returned the salute
. Then he sat down at the circular table and keyed a code into the touchpad to call Fleet Admiral Liz Brownstone over the quantum-spin network necessary for superluminal communication. A screen hung overhead at the far end of the room. Brownstone’s face came up on this. Nowadays, whenever Olsen called, so long as it was within office hours, Brownstone would be there. It was as if she had nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs all day, although Olsen did have a suspicion that the senators had employed her in Admiralty Station as a paper pusher and nothing more. She was slightly younger than Olsen — in her early fifties — yet she had as many wrinkles, and her eyes looked equally worn.

  “Captain Olsen,” she said. “To what can I attribute this pleasure? I haven’t heard from you since…”

  “It’s been three months, ma’am,” Olsen replied. “And now, I have vital news. I trust Rob has already filled you in on a lot of it.”

  Brownstone looked annoyed. She didn’t like being rushed, but Olsen didn’t like small talk. Not if what the alien had told him was correct.

  “Actually, there seem to be quite a few holes in what he’s sent me. I would think your cyborg is in dire need of some maintenance. So please, help fill in the gaps.”

  Brownstone listened as Olsen reported all that had happened. The only detail he missed was how he’d wanted to scarper—blamelessly, in his opinion, since he hadn’t then ascertained how dangerous the object was. Rob had mentioned that Brownstone knew a lot of this already. But when Olsen started to talk about the Arstan Fleet, the placid expression on Brownstone’s face changed to one of extreme concern.

  “How did the Arstans know of such a weapon?” she said. “And why on earth didn’t you relay the first-contact situation to me so I could have chosen an appropriate ambassador?”

  “For the first question, I haven’t a clue,” Olsen said. “As for the second, we didn’t have time to set up the comms before the Arstans appeared.”

  “You could have directly contacted the Admiralty AI for their opinion. That’s what they’re there for, to make decisions for you at any time, and you seem reluctant to use them. Once you return to Admiralty Station, we’ll be questioning your actions, Olsen.”

  As if his dreams of a cushy retirement weren’t already hanging by a thread, he thought. “So what do we do now? Are you able to send some extra support?”

  “Hell, no. Captain Olsen, you created this problem, and you must fix it.”

  Olsen was seething. All he’d been doing was following orders and using creative solutions to solve them. Yes, he could have used Admiralty AI. But in the time he would have spent explaining the situation to them, the enemy could be firing up their weapons to annihilate the Tapper on the spot.

  “We haven’t got any leads on where to start,” he pointed out.

  “Then find some. You’re resourceful, Olsen. I’m sure you can find a way.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, the Tauian ambassador stated the weapon is incredibly dangerous and more powerful than anything humans have ever known. I urge you to at least consult with the others in fleet command. It is my personal recommendation that the issue should be escalated to the highest level.”

  “Of course. I’ve already passed some parameters into Admiralty AI, and I’ll forward you the recommendations.”

  Olsen took a deep breath and restrained himself from punching a dent in the table. Now that military strategy was run by an AI, Brownstone had stopped caring. Or perhaps she just felt that she couldn’t possibly outdo the most expensive system known to mankind. Olsen didn’t buy that.

  Admittedly, his only experience trying to outthink a computer was his brother’s hologram. Then again, he’d won plenty.

  “Ma’am, those recommendations will be based on existing data. This is a completely new situation, which I don’t think a computer can reliably assess.”

  “Captain, Admiralty AI has been tested on multiple scenarios and has proven it can solve new tactical and strategic problems.”

  “I really do believe this should be handled by real people, ma’am.”

  All Olsen’s pushing did was cause Brownstone to narrow her eyes as the features on her face tightened. “I’ve given you my opinion on this matter, and there will be no changing that. Hang on a minute.” She looked down at her computer screen. “Yes, it looks like I already have a recommendation. Hold your position for a good two hours and we’ll send a warp pod your way.”

  “A warp pod, ma’am?” Olsen struggled to keep a straight face. The fate of a solar system is at stake, and she’s sending a single warp pod?

  “I’m sure you’ll find its contents most useful for your unique situation. Godspeed, Captain Olsen.”

  “Admiral,” Olsen started to say, but she cut out before he could finish.

  He stared at the blank screen, completely perplexed by Brownstone’s behavior. He turned to Rob, but the cyborg’s detached features gave nothing away. For all Olsen knew, he thought the Admiral was right about everything.

  But how could Admiralty AI select such a passive course? To Olsen, it just didn’t make sense that the system wouldn’t treat it more seriously—or that Brownstone wouldn’t override it and do so.

  “Well, we’re officially in this alone it seems,” he said.

  Rob looked at Olsen blankly. “Not necessarily, sir. Admiralty AI has some further data which will be sent inside the warp pod.”

  “Then I guess we just twiddle our thumbs and wait while that weapon slips further and further from our grasp.”

  “The Okranti can’t match us for speed, sir. And the radiation signature can be traced now that we have it.”

  Olsen stood and headed for the CIC to wait for the warp pod to arrive. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  13

  “Sir, another object is coming out of FTL-warp,” Santiago said.

  “Don’t tell me,” Olsen said. “This time, we have to fight a Foorint battlecruiser.”

  “Negative, sir,” Santiago said with a chuckle. “It’s the warp pod.”

  “About time,” Olsen said. “Our gift from Admiralty themselves.”

  The pod had appeared on the screen now, a spherical object with an enormous FTL-engine attached to the rear. Nothing advanced, but then these things were only meant for a one-way trip. “We better take precautions. Scan it, Santiago.”

  “It contains a lifeform, sir.” Santiago’s foot started tapping rapidly against the floor. “Are we getting a new crew member?”

  “It would appear so,” Olsen said. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, although he’d been secretly hoping for a third shield generator. No such luck. “Well, I guess we should bring it in. Question is, with Redrock out of action, who’s going to pilot the Extractor?”

  “Active and reporting for duty,” Nathan said over the intercom, much to Olsen’s surprise. On Olsen’s armrest display, he could see the call was coming from the sickbay.

  “Lieutenant Nathan, shouldn’t you be resting? You were only knocked unconscious a couple of hours ago.”

  “Only a minor concussion, sir,” Redrock replied. “The doc’s already cleared me, and there’s no way I’m missing out on any action.”

  “It’s only a warp pod.”

  “With life signs. Maybe a pretty belle on board?”

  Kota was standing just outside. Out of the corner of his eye, Olsen saw her smirk and roll her eyes. “Fine. If the doc says you’re fit to fly, you better get out there and retrieve it.”

  “Yes sir,” Redrock said. “One day, maybe they’ll give us tractor beams.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Schmidt growled from behind Olsen. The weapons officer was seldom impressed with the resources at his disposal. Olsen had found it funny in the past, but that was before they’d been doing so much shooting.

  Olsen stood up. “Rob, accompany me to the shuttle bay.”

  He walked towards the door, and Sergeant Kota saluted him as he turned up the dials on his mag-boots before leaving the room. Olsen returned the salute. “Actually
, Kota, get your squad freshened up and be in the shuttle bay in ten. I don’t know who’s aboard, so we should ensure we make a good impression.”

  “Aye, sir,” Kota said, and she and Olsen parted in different directions.

  14

  The cargo doors of the Extractor shuttle opened to reveal a ‘belle,’ just like Redrock had asked for. She stood ramrod straight in mag-boots, with her hands folded behind her back. Her bloodstream must be packed with time-release nanites and organic-reinforcing cells that would have been injected into her to make the warp dash survivable, even if had just been a short jump from a nearby station. Olsen found himself impressed with her sharp expression. He couldn’t tell from where he stood what rank the stars and stripes on her shoulders denoted, but he could see that she wore the navy blue of an officer of the fleet. She had a straight nose and an unblemished face, framed by brown hair cut in a bob. She turned to Olsen and then walked down the ramp with steady, calculated steps.

  She saluted sharply. “Commander Sasha Novak reporting for duty, sir.”

  “And what duty is that, Commander?” Olsen asked.

  Novak glanced at Rob. The cyborg had stepped toward her — stopping right next to her, in fact, as if he’d been invited to do so. Olsen was about to call him back when Novak reached into her inner pocket and produced a dongle. Before anyone could react, she moved with purpose, plugging the dongle into the port on the back of the cyborg’s neck. The device beeped a few times, then displayed four blue lights.

  “Kota,” Olsen said. “Weapon ready.”

  Sergeant Kota nodded and pointed her rifle at Commander Novak.

  But Novak looked at the Marine and simply shook her head, not even seeming to register any kind of fear that Kota had an XM-461 rifle with laser-sight pointed right at her. “I apologize for my abruptness, Captain, but the Admiralty AI told me they had problems sending updates through.” She produced a tablet. “Here are the orders from Brownstone herself. I am to replace the cyborg and assume position as XO on the Tapper, effective immediately.”