Cry of War: A Military Space Adventure Series

by R. L. Giddings

  “I see you’ve been busy getting everything set up.”

  The sub-mind nodded vaguely.

  That had been the right thing to say. The man was clearly insane so it was important that he did nothing to provoke him further. To do so might well put Dalbiri in jeopardy. There was no question he was going to have to act but he was going to have to think carefully before committing himself to any particular plan of action.

  “What are we doing then?”

  The Librarian gave him an impatient look but then, seeming to reassess the situation, he pointed towards the far wall, transforming it into a brilliant view screen.

  The Da’al ship looked like a large shell flecked with orange, white and brown specks. In the distance was The Naked Spur flanked by another smaller cargo ship. All appeared to have sustained considerable levels of battle damage. Up close, The Spur appeared to be very badly damaged.

  “I saw these last night” he said. “But I don’t understand what’s going on. Is it some kind of truce?”

  “If it is then your people are more naïve than even I might have imagined. The Da’al ship’s defences seem compromised and yet your ships don’t appear to be pressing their advantage.”

  Webster took a moment to digest what was being said. “What makes you think that the Confederation ships have the advantage?”

  “They’ve managed to immobilise the Da’al’s shields which, in itself, is quite impressive. If they act decisively then they still might triumph.”

  “And what if they don’t?”

  The Librarian indicated for him to come over. He showed him the read-out he’d been accessing.

  “I don’t know what I’m looking at,” he said.

  The Librarian tapped the screen. There were eight separate panels, each displaying different energy levels.

  “I’ve not seen anything like this before,” The Librarian said. “The Da’al are trying to re-boot their systems, though some of them look to be beyond repair.”

  “The Spur did that?” he asked, his voice highlighting his surprise.

  “It would seem so. We had not thought that your race was capable of such technological skill,” he looked at Webster. “Perhaps we will have to look again at our conclusions. Or perhaps not.”

  “You think the Da’al still pose a danger?”

  “Oh, indubitably. Unless your people act, and act soon, they won’t just have lost this little engagement. Unless the Da’al are stopped they will proliferate. Its unavoidable.”

  He highlighted one of the energy charts.

  “Notice that they’re throwing everything into their weapons systems while their life support mechanism is barely functioning.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “The Da’al excel at making the kind of tough decisions any battle situation is prone to throw up. They’ve had to choose between saving their Drasin crew or powering up their weapons systems. And it seems that the weaponry has won.”

  Webster was aware of Dalbiri out of the corner of my eye. “But what about our people? You have to let me warn them.”

  The Librarian pursed his lips as he considered this. “No. I think not.”

  “Why ever not? You think I might betray you somehow?”

  “It’s not a question of that. It’s more a question of information gathering. If your people manage to rally and defeat the Da’al then so much the better.”

  “But if they hesitate, if they fail to act quickly enough and, in the process, are wiped out…”

  “That would also be significant. Either way, we will have learnt something useful.”

  “And yet you hate the Da’al and have sworn to destroy them. You’re not telling me that you intend to sit back and see our ships destroyed while the Da’al escape, are you?”

  “No, you’re right. We are committed to eradicating the Da’al wherever we find them in this universe or any other.”

  “Then I don’t know what’s stopping you. I’ve seen what this ship is capable of. Give the command.”

  “But you must also understand why I can’t. We made the mistake of under-estimating the Da’al. I won’t make that same mistake by under-estimating your people. Data gathering is a significant part of our on-going journey so we’ll simply have to wait and see how this plays out.”

  Webster wanted to lash out, but at what?

  “Yeah, and next you’ll be telling me that you take no pleasure in watching this, which we both know is a lie.”

  Webster spun away to be confronted with Dalbiri.

  “And what about him? You going to study him as well?”

  “It’s how we learn. And don’t act so surprised. You must have known that this was inevitable from the moment you came on-board. Either you would study us, or we would study you. And this is how it’s turned out. But don’t beat yourself up, there was nothing that could be done to avoid it. We had to have a viable physical specimen to study. My only regret is that we couldn’t get our hands on one of your females. But that will no doubt be remedied at some point.”

  But Webster wasn’t listening. He was too busy looking around the lab, searching for a tool he could use. Eventually, his eyes rested on an upright metal stand. He went over and picked it up. The actual upright, though promising, didn’t appear to be particularly robust. At least, not for what he had in mind.

  The base, a rectangle of solid metal, appeared much more promising. He picked it up in both hands and carried it over to where Dalbiri’s tank stood. After a little grip adjustment, he decided he’d be best served grasping it at one end. He placed the other end against the glass of the container and gave it a little tap.

  Sounded promising.

  Swinging the weight back as far as it would go, he brought it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the side of the container. The container bowed a little under the impact but that was all. He hadn’t left so much as a scratch.

  Undeterred, he repeated the process, scoring three significant hits on the side of the glass, the last one being so violent that the impact ripped the base out of his hands and sent it spinning off across the floor.

  “Please, stop,” The Librarian cautioned, pointing to a strobing light. “I’ve alerted the servitors and, besides, you’re just wasting your time.”

  “Yeah, perhaps you’re right,” Webster conceded before going around to the back of the container.

  Of the six tubes available to him, two of which he’d already determined the function of. That left four more, one of which had to contain Dalbiri’s oxygen supply.

  If he got this wrong and pulled out the wrong tube there was a good chance his friend might drown.

  Only, if the situations were reversed, he’d want Dalbiri to try everything in an attempt to secure his release. There was bound to be some level of risk involved.

  He could pull out the liquid hoses but then, what good would that do.

  No. Best to be decisive.

  Ignoring the hoses, he turned back to the container itself. Self-standing but substantial. The weight of liquid alone must be quite significant.

  Then he had an idea.

  He looked over at the Librarian. “Heay, you want to give a hand with this?”

  It was worth it for the look of sheer incomprehension which fogged the sub-mind’s face.

  Webster got his shoulder against the side of the container and shoved. The whole thing juddered as it shifted by a few millimetres before righting itself.

  The thing was enormously heavy, much heavier than he’d thought but he had managed to move it.

  He went over to the far wall and leant against it, bracing one foot behind him.

  He didn’t want to exhaust himself. He was going to have to make this next attempt count.

  He exploded away from the wall, almost tripping over himself in his eagerness to get this done. When he hit the glass he felt something pop in his shoulder but that didn’t stop him. As liquid slopped over the side of the tank, slopping against his back, he growled and pushed harder.r />
  For a second, he thought that he wasn’t going to make it. That the thing was just too damned heavy. And then something slipped off the top and smashed against the floor.

  Not much but he was having an effect and, after weeks of inaction, that spurred him on.

  But, just as he was getting somewhere, he felt his feet starting to slip. A couple of hoses had come loose and were spilling liquid all over the floor. A sharp chemical smell filled his nostrils. He’d have to back up and take another stab at it. Think again.

  And yet, when he opened his eyes he could clearly see Dalbiri’s hands. And they were spasming. Whatever he’d done, his friend was paying a heavy price.

  He had to get this over with.

  With the last of his strength, he dropped his arms down lower.

  And pushed.

  After all the effort, when the container finally tipped over it did so as if this was always how this was going to end up. An inevitability.

  As the gallons of liquid inside the tank shifted, momentum just took over. The container pitched to one side and then just kept right on moving.

  The container hit the ground still in one piece, gouting liquid out of the top and with it came Dalbiri. He was sluiced out across the floor traveling a good two metres before his head impacted with the far wall.

  The Librarian appeared directly in front of Webster holding up an admonishing finger, but Webster simply stepped right through him.

  By the time he reached Dalbiri, the big man had started breathing though he had to turn his head to avoid the water which swamped the floor.

  “You okay?” Webster said.

  “The bridge,” Dalbiri said. “You have to stop the Da’al.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

  Faulkner was examining the command chair which they’d somehow managed to return to its normal spot, though they’d had to raise it up onto metal blocks in order to do so. Which left Faulkner with a step he was going to have to negotiate just to get up there.

  The rest of the bridge, though a lot noisier than normal with all the repairs going on, was a hive of activity with everyone squeezed together on the right-hand side.

  Schwartz gazed up at the main operations screens trying to work out what was going on. Everything seemed topsy turvy. According to one screen, Thor had recently launched a couple of missiles and yet the Tactical team seemed completely unconcerned by this development. One or two of them were still discussing what had gone on earlier.

  It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t they all on high alert?

  And then she realised what had happened: Thor had launched two long range missiles.

  But they were currently heading in the direction of the Yakutian ship.

  “There was a change of plan, sir,” she said, watching Thor’s missiles pursue a very different vector to the one they followed earlier. “I put Lieutenant Khan in charge of sourcing ammunition for the rail gun.”

  “Is that right?” Faulkner was watching a new holographic schematic which had just popped up displaying the new attack. “And what did he have to say about that?”

  “He was fine with it. Excited even.”

  She quickly told him about what he was proposing.

  “Tungsten tetrahedrons” he said. “Got quite the ring to it. You think it’ll work?”

  “Like I said, he seems very excited about it.”

  “Good old ballistic weapons,” he said with a faint sigh. “They’ll never let you down.”

  Schwartz wished she could share his enthusiasm.

  “So, where does this leave us now?” she said.

  “On the offensive. I’ve spoken with Lieutenant McNeill. We’ve worked out a new intercept course.”

  Faulkner worked the panel on the command chair to take down the hologram they’d been watching but then couldn’t find what he was trying to replace it with.

  “If you’ll allow me,” she said. “This is Lieutenant McNeill’s plot, you say?”

  “That’s right.”

  She searched through McNeill’s files, pulling up the most recent one. Renheim sat port astern of Thor but as the animation ran, she described a wide parabola before finally bringing her in to approach the Da’al vessel amidships.

  “What do you think?” he said.

  Schwartz couldn’t believe what she was looking at. It was so simple, she imagined that if she’d proposed something like this at the Academy, that her instructors would have failed her for lack of imagination.

  “You’re not leaving us with much of a margin of error here, sir.”

  “I did discuss this with Captain Sunderam but his feeling was, that with the Serrayu giving us covering fire, Thor will be too distracted to fully commit to targeting us.”

  But Schwartz wasn’t convinced. A battle cruiser of that size should be able to deal with multiple threats coming in from multiple angles.

  She said, “We’re only going to have a limited amount of time to engage her before we’re heading out the other side.”

  “I know but closing to this kind of distance poses its own kind of risks, as we know to our cost. But, frankly, it’s all we’ve got.”

  She couldn’t believe that this was the best the two captains could come up with. Certainly, there was no chance that they’d be allowed to close with Thor to this extent. The whole thing was tantamount to suicide.

  And yet Faulkner had sanctioned it.

  “Because, to be completely honest with you,” he said. “If we fail to take the initiative here, we risk losing Thor altogether.”

  *

  It was too much to hope that Thor would ignore their approach and at a million kilometres distance, fresh missiles started spilling from her tubes.

  Schwartz launched a panoply of counter missiles in the desperate hope that they could take out the bulk of these incoming missiles before they had a chance to close the gap. But it was a risky gamble at best.

  In the end, it was their last SS-20 which did the bulk of the damage, setting it up to deliver its ECM blast at a pre-programmed distance rather than trusting to its on-board computer. Bizarrely, that seemed to work, taking out a good half of the enemy’s salvo in one long sustained burst of energy.

  Two of the incoming missiles lost their lock causing them veer into one another and explode. Schwartz gave a wry smile after watching that. But it didn’t last long, with five of their remaining missiles still on their approach.

  Khan’s engineers had worked hard to bring one of the old-fashioned laser turrets back on-line but all it could manage was thirty seconds of sustained fire before it shut down. Though it did manage to take out two of their missiles. The one surviving laser battery fared even less well, firing in sporadic bursts while resolutely failing to hit anything.

  Of the remaining three missiles, one failed to detonate, a second detonated at five kilometres out and one scored a direct hit.

  The ship bucked under this fresh assault which saw entire compartments destroyed, killing and injuring those unfortunate enough to be inside when it happened.

  But Schwartz couldn’t allow her to think about such things, her eyes locked on the target directly ahead of them. The time display told her that they had another four minutes before they entered attack range and could open up with their rail guns.

  But none of that would matter if Sunderam didn’t deliver on his promise to take down those shields.

  It was all up to him now.

  *

  It took Webster longer than he’d have liked to get to the bridge. Twice he’d been forced to backtrack when he’d seen security drones on the move. He wasn’t sure to what extent they were armed but they were formidable enough on their own and he didn’t want to give them the chance of apprehending him.

  He arrived at the main entrance to the bridge, soaked to the skin and badly out of breath but he had made it. Now all he had to do was hope that he could find some way of accessing their weapons systems.

  As
soon as he was through the main door, he was aware of the Pilot standing over in the corner. He went over to confront him.

  “I need your help.”

  “And I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

  “We have to act now if we’re to stop the Da’al from escaping.”

  “And, as I’m sure you’re aware, we are forbidden from acting until this current engagement is concluded.”

  “By which time it’ll be too late,” Webster didn’t want to waste any more time arguing.

  He went over to the main console and started trying to activate the screens, though with little success. He found that he could change the view of the Da’al ship by making gestures in the air. It was a little counter-intuitive at first but he slowly started getting the hang of it, realising that their optics were far superior to anything the Confederation had access to.

  “How do you access the weapons on this thing!” he shouted, as much at himself as at anyone.

  Suddenly, The Pilot appeared in front of him.

  “Our system doesn’t work like that. No one individual can operate alone, that’s how our society works. You’d need to have approval from the whole ship to even get started.”

  “Then show me how.”

  “You must understand what you’re committing to. As a human, the risks are particularly high. Either the ship will accept you or – it will not.”

  “Good! Just let me try!”

  The Pilot seemed put out by his failure to deter him and Webster began to wonder whether this wasn’t some ploy simply to delay him until the security droids got there.

  Finally, The Pilot seemed to give in. “I can show you how to access the system but it’s not that straightforward. If you want something from the ship, you can be sure it’ll want something else in return.”

  Webster let a long breath escape through his nostrils.

  “Alright. I’m good with that. Whatever the cost. Now, which button do I press?”

  “Oh no. There’s none of that fire-and-forget nonsense here. You have to make a proposal to the ship and the thousands of consciousnesses which govern it. Here, let me show you.”

  The Pilot came around the console in order to place his hands on Webster’s shoulders. Webster was surprised when a small electrical pulse registered along his arms and it quickly multiplied becoming an immersive force which quickly threatened to overwhelm him.