A Line in the Sand

by Ryk Brown

  She had commanded warships in combat before, and in far more stressful situations, but the stakes never seemed to lessen. Today, there were billions of lives at stake, and her one thought was why she didn’t think to bring the Nighthawks with her to begin with. She had been certain that the Aurora could deal with a handful of drones, but she had been wrong, and it was causing her to second-guess herself.

  “Thirty minutes to terminal attack leg,” Lieutenant Yuati updated.

  Cameron glared at him. She didn’t mean to; it was just a response. She was well aware of how much time they had left to locate and destroy those drones; she glanced at the time display on the view screen with each leg of her pacing. But the lieutenant was just doing his job. He had too little experience in his station to realize how attentive she was to such details.

  The lieutenant got the message but chose not to respond, lest he draw additional ire from his superior.

  Cameron changed her course, moving up to the communications console at the back of the bridge. “Anything?” she asked.

  The young ensign at the comm-station looked up apologetically. “No, sir.”

  * * *

  “Anything, Les?” Talisha asked her wingman.

  “Negative,” he replied over comms. “I don’t know how Teison and his crew do this kind of shit day in and day out.”

  “How many jumps have we made so far?” another pilot wondered. “I’ve lost count.”

  “It’s only been twenty-seven jumps,” Talisha replied. “Twenty-eight coming up.”

  “Jesus,” the pilot of Red Three exclaimed.

  “Come on,” Talisha said. “We do three times that many jumps on an average patrol.”

  “Yeah, but we’re not actually hoping to find anything, so it’s not disappointment with every negative scan,” Les pointed out from Red Two.

  “Less talk, more scanning,” Talisha joked as she prepared to jump again. “Leader to group; jump twenty-eight in five seconds.”

  * * *

  “Report!” General Pellot barked as he entered SilTek Security’s Defense Command Center.

  “All defenses are charged and ready,” the weapons officer reported. “All missile launchers are loaded with two shield busters and two fragmenting interceptors each. Any of them can be launched with split-second notice.”

  “Make sure all targeting systems are set to low orbit intercepts by default,” the general ordered his chief weapons officer. “If those drones get through, they’ll come out as close to the planet as possible, so we’re only going to get one shot at them.”

  “Yes, sir!” the weapons officer acknowledged. “Recommend all launches start with shield busters, with the frag-interceptors launching five seconds after.”

  “Very well.” The general turned to his tracking officer. “Tracking?”

  “All surface and space-borne tracking arrays are online,” the tracking officer reported. “I’ve taken the inner system arrays and pointed them inward toward us, to increase the coverage and light up any dead zones.”

  “That will leave the outer system inadequately covered,” the general commented.

  “As you said, sir, if any of the drones get by, they’ll arrive terminal close in.”

  “Very well.”

  The general’s second came up next to him, leaning in. “We’re ready, sir. I’ve had diagnostics run on every system, just to be certain we are running at one hundred percent efficiency.”

  “Of course,” the general replied. “I just hope it’s enough.” The general sighed. “Sometimes, I hate jump drives.”

  * * *

  “New contact,” Kaylah reported from the Aurora’s sensor station. “Comm-drone.”

  “Receiving data stream,” the communications officer reported.

  Cameron paused her pacing, turning toward the comms officer, hoping for good news.

  “Red and Blue flights reporting negative contact,” Ensign Keller reported. “Nothing yet from Green or Gold.”

  “What about the Falcon?”

  “Their next comm-check isn’t for three more minutes.”

  Cameron sighed, growing frustrated with each passing moment. “This isn’t working. They’ve been searching for over an hour and haven’t even caught a glimpse of old light.” After thinking a moment, she tilted her head up as if talking to the ceiling. “Aurora, any chance we’ve missed something?”

  “Current search patterns are based upon known Dusahn jump trace evasion tactics and the performance parameters of the old Takaran jump comm-drones. All search teams are currently searching along the most likely evasion paths.”

  “Then why haven’t they found anything?” Cameron asked. “Is it possible that their AIs are using random patterns?”

  “It is possible but highly unlikely. An AI cannot be truly random; rather, it introduces enough choices into an algorithm to appear to be random.”

  “That’s not helping,” Cameron insisted.

  “My apologies, Captain,” the Aurora’s AI replied. “I am only able to make decisions based on available data.”

  No statement had ever rung truer for Cameron. Her entire career had been about making the most appropriate decision based on available data. Long ago, she had learned that it was impossible to always make the correct decision, since the information itself was always fluid. Even her hunches were based on available data. Not once had she ever just gone with her gut, except for one time, which was why she was here now.

  “Aurora,” she called again. “Do we have enough data to determine how far the drones jumped the last time we had solid tracks on them?”

  “Based on velocity, course, and intensity of jump flash, we can determine the location of their first jump to an accuracy of three-point two five light hours,” Aurora replied.

  “And we determine their course change based on the position of their next departure flash in comparison to their original arrival flash,” Cameron stated.

  “Correct.”

  “What if that departure flash was a ruse?” Cameron suggested.

  “Generation of a jump flash that does not initiate a transition out of our dimension is theoretically possible. However, it would require another recharge cycle, the same as if the transition had actually occurred. As an evasion tactic, it is sound, but not under the current conditions.”

  “Why not?” Cameron wondered.

  “It would increase the risk of redetection,” Aurora explained. “With only four weapons, it would be illogical to take such a risk, especially when there are multiple options that provide a greater chance of successfully reaching the target.”

  Cameron thought for a moment, imagining herself in the cockpit of a Nighthawk, talking to the same type of AI. “The Nighthawks don’t search very far, do they?”

  “They do not,” Aurora confirmed. “Instead, they execute micro-jumps of two light minutes, then spend a minute on station scanning in all directions.”

  “So all the drone would have to do to prevent redetection is to initiate a fake jump flash, then go dark for a few minutes…maybe even make a low-burn turn before jumping.”

  “Current search patterns would have detected the drones even in the scenario you have described,” Aurora defended.

  For a moment, Cameron felt as if the ship’s AI had taken offense. “What if they accelerated as well?”

  “They would have to turn to terminal course before doing so,” Lieutenant Yuati interjected, seeing where his captain was going.

  “Aurora, calculate likely positions on the following assumptions,” Cameron began. “One; the first departure flash after their initial escape from our track was a decoy, and no jump actually occurred. Two; the drones went dark at the same time and stayed dark long enough to ensure that they would be outside of detection range by a ship attempting to follow their jump path. Three; they executed a turn
to terminal intercept course with SilTek once past detection range. Four; they jumped one time, then accelerated as quickly as possible to maximum speed, burning all available propellant to do so.”

  “Parameter four is illogical,” Aurora argued. “The drones would be unable to adjust course for final intercept.”

  “They don’t have to,” Cameron insisted. “They’re carrying antimatter warheads. Close is good enough.”

  “Calculation complete, plots are on the viewscreen,” Aurora reported. “I should point out, Captain, that this tactic is extremely unlikely for an AI.”

  “That’s why I’m going with it,” Cameron said, studying the new drone course and position predictions displayed on the main view screen. “Comms, flash traffic. Redirect the Falcon to search along the new track prediction for target three.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “You believe the Dusahn know about the Sugali AIs,” Lieutenant Yuati surmised.

  “I have no idea,” Cameron admitted. “But if they did, then they’d use it against us.”

  Lieutenant Yuati also studied the new track predictions. “If you are correct, then the drones are less than twelve minutes from SilTek.”

  Cameron said nothing. Part of her hoped she was wrong. At least then they’d have more time.

  * * *

  “Still nothing?” Lieutenant Teison asked.

  “Nothing,” the sergeant replied. “Wait…comm-drone.”

  “Don’t do that!” Ensign Lassen snapped.

  “Do what?”

  “You know damn well what!”

  “You need a break, Tomi,” the sergeant commented, smiling.

  “We all need a break,” the lieutenant added. “What’s the message?”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Tomi told him.

  Lieutenant Teison leaned in, reading the communications display on the top of the center console. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “What is it?” Sergeant Nama wondered.

  “They’re redirecting us to grid Delta Two Five, direct SilTek,” Ensign Lassen said.

  “Delta Two Five?” the sergeant repeated in disbelief. “The only way they’d be in Delta Two Five would be if they turned terminal after the first jump and hauled ass. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Like any of this makes any sense,” the lieutenant commented as he prepared to change course.

  “We’ve been searching this track for the last hour!” the sergeant complained. “For all we know, we could find something in the next few grids!”

  “He’s right, Jasser,” Ensign Lassen agreed. “If we bail on this track now…”

  “And if she’s right?” the lieutenant interrupted. “Do you want the death of millions on your conscience? I sure as hell don’t. Not for a lieutenant’s pay.”

  “Jasser…”

  “Shut up and plot the jump, Tomi,” the lieutenant insisted. “It’s not our call, and you know it.”

  * * *

  “Why four drones?” Lieutenant Yuati asked, breaking the relative silence.

  “Excuse me?” Cameron replied, her pacing interrupted.

  “Why four?” the lieutenant continued from the tactical station. “Why not two, or six, or even eight?”

  “What does it matter?” Cameron countered.

  “If the intent is to destroy SilTek, more weapons would increase the probability of success.”

  “Antimatter is not an abundant commodity,” Cameron told him. “I doubt they have much capacity for manufacturing it.”

  “Didn’t the Takarans use antimatter?”

  “Yes, but they shut down production shortly after developing zero-point reactors.”

  “Then where are the Dusahn getting their antimatter?” the lieutenant wondered.

  “Probably from the reactors of destroyed ships,” Cameron explained. “When their warships are lost, their antimatter cores automatically eject so they can be recovered and reused.”

  “Is that why they did not send any such weapons toward the Rogen system?” the lieutenant wondered.

  “Probably,” Cameron agreed. “They didn’t need to destroy your worlds, they just needed to punish you. Besides, at the time, most of their warships were still intact, so they probably didn’t have any to spare.”

  “So by defeating all those battleships at once…”

  “We gave them quite a bit of antimatter to recycle.”

  “Then you believe they sent four weapons because that is all the antimatter they had to spare,” the lieutenant surmised.

  “It took four warheads to destroy Ancot,” Cameron told him. “There have got to be at least that many wired up to take out Takara.”

  “Then they wish to destroy SilTek,” the lieutenant concluded. “It seems wholly unnecessary. A single antimatter event in the atmosphere would likely be enough to cause the people of SilTek to reconsider their support of this alliance.”

  “That’s not enough for the Dusahn,” Cameron insisted. “Especially since we’ve boxed them in and threatened to attack any ships they send out, armed or not. The Dusahn, just like the Jung, rule by fear of consequences.”

  “All human civilizations have been ruled by fear of consequences,” the lieutenant pointed out. “It’s only a matter of degrees.”

  “I’m sure you and Captain Scott could have a lively discussion on that topic,” Cameron told him.

  * * *

  “Jump complete,” Ensign Lassen reported.

  “Starting scans of grid Delta Two Five,” Sergeant Nama announced.

  Lieutenant Teison felt a glimmer of hope as he quickly performed his post-jump systems check. He and his crew had spent over thirty hours searching for the drones, only to have to try and find them again. Nothing was more tiresome than trying to pick up a jump trail. Although they had flown many missions that lasted twice as long, the monotony of the task was far more tiring. Add the fact that millions of lives hung on their success, and the pressure was enough to drive the strongest of men over the edge.

  “And…nothing,” Sergeant Nama reported, disappointed, but not surprised.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” Ensign Lassen exclaimed. “We never should have left our original search track,” he added, looking at the lieutenant.

  “What do we do now, LT?” the sergeant wondered.

  Lieutenant Teison sighed, that glimmer of hope having faded away. “We launch a comm-drone to report negative contact on this grid and request instructions.”

  “So we just sit here until then?” Ensign Lassen wondered in disbelief. “Time is running out, Jas.”

  “I know.”

  “At least we can jump ahead to the next grid,” Sergeant Nama suggested. “We can probably search two or three more while waiting for a response from the Aurora.”

  “We can tell them to send the response a few grids ahead,” Ensign Lassen added, indicating his agreement with the sergeant’s suggestion.

  “Very well,” the lieutenant agreed. “Tomi, prep a comm-drone. Report negative contact at Delta Two Five, and let the Aurora know we are progressing on this track until further orders. Add that we expect a reply from them by grid Delta Two Nine.”

  “And if we don’t hear from them by then?” Tomi asked as he began prepping the comm-drone for launch.

  “Contact!” Sergeant Nama exclaimed. “Dead astern! Close in!”

  The Falcon suddenly rocked violently, as if something twice their size had slammed into them from behind.

  “It’s the drone!” the sergeant continued. “It’s firing at us!” he added as the ship lurched again.

  “NO SHIT!” the lieutenant exclaimed, grabbing his flight controls to take evasive action.

  “We just lost aft shields!” Ensign Lassen reported as the ship took another hit astern.

  “Flight
controls aren’t responding!” the lieutenant announced.

  Warning indicators began lighting up, and alarms filled the cockpit.

  “Jump drive is offline!” Ensign Lassen reported. “Maneuvering is down!”

  A million thoughts raced through Lieutenant Teison’s mind; every option and possible outcome flooding in so quickly that he could barely keep them sorted. Only one option stood out.

  Another impact kicked their stern to port.

  “We just lost main propulsion!” the ensign reported as the ship rocked again. “Crap! We’re fucking coming apart, Jas!”

  The lieutenant looked to his copilot. “Update the message. Positive contact at Delta Two Five. Include course and speed data…and a Mayday.”

  Ensign Lassen looked at the lieutenant.

  “Tell them we’re ejecting.”

  The ensign immediately went to work.

  “Punch out, Riko,” the lieutenant ordered.

  “Not until you guys do!” the sergeant insisted as the ship rocked and sparks erupted from his console.

  “Comm-drone updated!” Ensign Lassen announced. “Launching!”

  The ship rocked again. There was a deafening sound of shearing metal, and a whoosh of escaping air headed aft. Lieutenant Teison turned to look over his shoulder as the aft bulkhead was torn away. Behind them, the main body of their ship was breaking apart as another volley of energy tore through it.

  “Eject, eject, eject!” the lieutenant ordered, reaching down for his own ejection handles in between his legs at the base of his seat. He grabbed the handles and pulled them up sharply with all his might. There was a long pause, so long in fact that he wondered if his ejection mechanism had failed. The cockpit filled with smoke and bright flames as the other two members of the Falcon’s crew activated their own ejection systems and were shot from the doomed wreckage. A split second later, the lieutenant felt something hit him hard in the ass. The impact was so hard that it knocked the wind out of him. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he found himself no longer in the Falcon’s cockpit but hurtling through open space.

  A few seconds later, the rocket motor propelling him away from certain death ran out of propellant, and he found himself coasting silently through space. He drifted a minute, slowly tumbling. With each revolution, he could see the wreckage of his own ship in the distance, lit only by the occasional flashes of light as the last of its systems signaled their end. However, try as he might, he could not spot Tomi or Riko.