A Faded Star (33 page)

 Misato said, “I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the
kind of social engineering that suggestion implies, Franklin. A lottery at
least gives the chance for hope to each citizen.

 Brand said, “We have to make a decision. Here and now.
We can't walk out of this room without a plan. Either of the suggestions is
going to take weeks to implement.”

 Coffee said, “You're not wrong about that.” The big
man sighed heavily. He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands,
vigorously rubbing his eyes. “I wish I'd gotten more sleep before getting this
news. The lottery has its merits, but I'm inclined to choose people with the
strongest chance of reestablishing the human race, should it be required.”

 Stokes had a sudden insight and said, “Tell me this
isn't history repeating itself. I don't doubt our ancestors sat around a
similar table and wrestled with these same choices before our colony was
established.”

 “I wonder how they chose,” Misato said, his voice was
soft, barely more than a whisper.

 “We can't know,” Stokes said. “All we can do is make
the best decision to continue the viability of our species.”

 The statement seemed to clinch the decision for
Coffee, who said, “We have to go with Stokes' idea. It provides the strongest
potential for us to go on.” He leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders
slumped forward.

 “Well, that's one decision made. Now, who gets put on
the Behemoth?” Brand said.

 “Everyone who doesn't fit on the transports.
Preferably, the people with the lowest evaluated scores out of those chosen to
go,” Stokes said.

 “It's so cold to put it this way,” Misato said.

 “The calculus of war is nothing if not brutal in its
imposition on those who are swept up in the conflict,” Coffee said.
“Unfortunately, our choices have been largely taken from us. We must ensure the
continuation of our species. I plan to give Commodore Erickson orders to
withdraw the Behemoth should things look like they are going badly. I want
those five million civilians to survive and join up with the non-combatants if
Lashmere falls.”

 Stokes said, “I'll give the order, sir. Count on it.”

 Coffee said, “Mister Misato, I want you running
constant updates on our combat projections. Mister Brand, I want you
coordinating the current shipyard build rate. Take off enough time to get the
transports retrofitted, loaded with their passengers and sent out of the system
to wait for the outcome. Mister Stokes, concentrate on preparing your fleet.
Coordinate with Mister Misato as he completes his new simulations.”

 The three admirals acknowledged their orders. Shortly
thereafter, the meeting broke up. Despite the terrible turn of events, there
was an air of hope about the men that, somehow, they would find a way to
prevail. None of the men paid the slightest attention to the two Marine guards
standing outside the conference room.

 Private Rick Callahan, a native of the Karn region
looked over at his partner on guard duty and said, “I'll go check the room and
make sure they didn't leave anything behind. The second marine private merely
nodded, looking bored enough to fall asleep at his post. Callahan moved into
the room purposefully and reached under the table, near the chair Coffee had
sat at. There, a tiny recording device had been placed earlier that day by
another Karn native. He pocketed the small device and went back out into the
hallway, attempting to look as tired of standing his post as the Ebrim standing
next to him.

 Asher Patho was forty-four years old. He was nineteen
years older than his only sibling, Aden. The far younger man had almost
certainly been an accidental conception, although his parents had never
admitted to the fact. The vigorous calisthenics of Asher's younger days had
given way to brisk walks and low impact exercise as he'd aged.

 His usual morning walk took him through a small park
not far from the cafe where he'd met with his brother nearly a year ago.
Although his mother had never mentioned it, she seemed unhappy about not seeing
Aden that day. Asher had repeatedly told her that Aden was no Karn, and he
wasn't to be trusted. As he walked along the path, he saw a rock, much like
nearly all the others along the park pathways. This rock, in particular, had a
bright blue mark on one side that was quite distinctive. As Asher walked by, he
deftly flipped the rock over with the toe of his shoe. Another hundred meters
along the path, he paused and sat on a bench next to the path he'd been walking
along. He stretched and yawned expansively and then placed his hand on the arm
of the bench. There, wedged in the curl at the end of the arm was a small
cylindrical object. He plucked it out and pocketed it as he stood to continue
along the path. The message had to be urgent. Most communications were handled
by a much more remote dead drop. He'd been alerted this way only once before,
to advise him of the success of the bombing at the Lashmere Naval Headquarters
building. The rest of his walk was made in growing anticipation of what the
cylinder might hold.

 He was sweating and breathing heavily when he made it
back to the home he shared with his mother. She wasn't at home. She was at a
community garden she enjoyed working on with some of their neighbors. He was
alone.

 The tube held a small data chip. He plugged the chip
into a tablet computer and waited as the contents were decompressed and copied
to the internal storage. The message indicated it was an audio recording of a
high level naval meeting. The contents were urgent and may require the network
move with speed to react to its contents.

 Over the next hour and a half, Asher listened to the
meeting in its entirety twice. His mind worked furiously as he considered how
to use this development to the best advantage of the Karn people.

 When Darlene Patho returned from her gardening, Asher
took her and sat her down at a table in their basement. He pulled a small
anti-eavesdropping device from his pocket and activated it. Seeing the
recognition in his mother's eyes, he said, “I've gotten some incredibly
important news, mother. The Navy has decided to ration a partial evacuation of
people from this planet in the face of a nearly certain attack by the same
aliens who invaded nearly a year ago. Not the alliance but the crab race.”

 Darlene folded her hands on top of the table. Her thin
shoulders drew back, and a look of determination entered her vivid blue eyes.
She said, “Asher, it's time to use the network we've so carefully put in place.
What are the navy's plans for us?”

 “They plan to use a computer program to assign a
numerical value to each citizen both Ebrim and Karn alike and then to force
those they find worthy of saving onto evacuation ships to escape certain
destruction at the hands of these crabs.”

 “This is completely unacceptable. We can assume the
Ebrim will choose to take their own exclusively, in order to save themselves.”

 “The Karn Separatist Movement is ready to seize this
opportunity.” Asher's eyes nearly glowed with fervor. “I know what we have to
do.”

 “We're going to infiltrate the computer used to select
people. We'll have the entire movement selected to go aboard this Behemoth
ship. We will then seize it and use it to liberate the Karn people.”

 The weeks passed with a sense of growing anticipation
of the coming battle. The crab fleet headed for Xalcek was going to arrive
there more than a week ahead of the one headed to Lashmere. Fleet computers ran
simulation after simulation, trying to squeeze every advantage from the
available ships.

 The Behemoth was completed and fully crewed, albeit
with mostly brand new officers and crew along with a full brigade of marines.
Stokes watched the behemoth maneuver out of the space dock with hope finally
taking root in his thoughts. The sheer size and potential firepower of the ship
was enough to make him think that, despite the fact that there would be roughly
two hundred ships protecting Lashmere against a thousand of the crab fleet,
there was a real chance for victory. The Behemoth was so massive it was visible
from thousands of kilometers away.

 Stokes worked to bring his fleet to a state of
readiness that would allow them to survive against the crab fleet. The
increases in response time and battle tactic improvements were continually
layered into the simulations run by Admiral Misato. The board of admirals
gathered to observe the sensor reports coming in from the Xalcek system on the
day the crabs were expected to arrive.

 Admiral Coffee sat at the head of the briefing room
table, watching the massive screen on the wall. Because the distance was more
than three hundred light years, individual small ships like escorts weren't
visible at all times. The range of the sensor array wasn't much more than three
hundred light years for any kind of ship.

 Stokes entered the room behind the rest of the
admirals. Brand and Misato were already in the room, along with Coffee. The men
sat attentively, watching the crab force approaching the Xalcek system.

 Coffee asked, “Any predictions, gentlemen?”

 “The crabs will wipe the alliance out,” Misato said.

 Stokes shook his head. “No faith in their claim to a
secret defense?”

 Misato shrugged dismissively. “None. From all the reports
I've read, they're nearly pacifists. They probably don't have the will to
assemble a truly devastating defensive weapon.”

 Stokes disagreed. The alliance had demonstrated they
had a strong will to survive, and they seemed to have a strangely bizarre
notion of morality. Despite their strange viewpoints, they had highly advanced
technology and the ability to defend themselves. “I think the alliance may have
been taken by surprise by the attack at their forward base. My thinking is that
the Xalcek system might show a different story. I suspect part of the reason
they were so adamant someone from the expeditionary force was in collusion with
the crabs is that they were so soundly defeated and that the crabs arrived with
little or no warning.”

 Admiral Brand spoke for the first time, “The alliance
has similar long range sensor technology to what we use here. They knew the
crab fleet was approaching. What they failed to consider was that the crabs
would move directly against them. The alliance command structure demonstrated a
rather shocking degree of hubris at every turn.”

 Coffee said, “The crab fleet is coming out of FTL
right at the edge of the Xalcek system.” The assembled officers sat, watching
the ships as they began maneuvering into an attack formation. The sensors began
showing a heavy gravitational distortion at the center of the crab formation.
The long range sensor array lost resolution for fifteen seconds, and when the
image cleared, the entire crab fleet was gone. Gasps sounded around the table.

 “What happened,” Misato asked.

 “There was some kind of sensor glitch, and then the
crab fleet vanished,” Brand said.

 “That was no sensor glitch,” Stokes said. “The
alliance has the defensive technology they claim to have.”

 Brand said, “It doesn't make sense. Their supposed
morality doesn't allow them to kill all those crabs.”

 Misato said, “They seem able to defend themselves. I
don't think this is just some kind of trick. Those crabs are gone.”

 Coffee tapped the table gently with his knuckles to
get everyones attention. “Gentlemen, focus, please. Since the alliance has made
good on its claim that it can defend itself, we must presume they also have the
ability to turn the crabs against us at they've claimed. I-” Coffee was
interrupted by a chiming from the console resting on the table. He tapped the
acceptance key and said, “Coffee.”

 “Sir, this is Lieutenant Weston. There's a massive
update on the crab fleet approaching that we've been tracking.”

 “Send it over, Lieutenant,” Coffee said. He worked at the
console for a moment and the screen updated to show the crab fleet. The
formation had slowed to sublight speed. Ships were milling around in a chaotic
fashion.

 Brand said, “Something's not right. That looks like
too many ships.”

 “That's what the alliance did with the crab fleet.
They sent them almost three hundred light years. There are two thousand crab
ships nine days from here,” Stokes said.

 A heavy silence descended on the room. Coffee said,
“What are we going to do? Do we have a chance of surviving against the entire
crab fleet?”

 Misato said, “Not a chance, Admiral. Our chances are
only about eighty percent against half their fleet. Against all of it? No way.”

 Stokes said, “We're going to have to figure out what
the alliance did. I suggest we forward the sensor data to the Loki for
analysis. Perhaps we can find a way to duplicate their defensive technology.”

 Brand's voice shook slightly when he said, “In a week?
We can't possibly.” The man slumped forward in his chair and put his head in
his hands.”

 Coffee said, “Get a grip, Admiral Brand. Mister
Misato, the entire Navy is now on 12 hour rotations. I want us to be ready to
enter combat at any moment. Mister Stokes, what's the training status of our
current fleet lineup?”

 Stokes said, “We're at thirty-four percent of our
originally intended fleet composition. If the crabs manage to concentrate their
force against us, we have no chance against them. Our fleet will have to be
made as mobile as possible. The only way to ensure the survival of humanity is
if we can save the humans selected to be on the transports and the behemoth.”

 Coffee said, “A mobile force will leave Lashmere
itself vulnerable. “If we won't stand and fight against the crab fleet, we
can't protect Lashmere.”

 “The only way we can destroy the crab fleet is to not
stand toe to toe with them,” Stokes said. “If our fleet tries, we lose
everything.”

 Coffee said, “I need to brief the president. He'll
have to approve the choices we're making today.”

 The admirals broke up and headed to their various duty
stations. Stokes boarded a shuttle that took him up to the Victorious. When he
got to his office, there was a waiting comm request. He punched the accept key
and saw Aden Patho's face looking at him.

 “Commander Patho, what can I do for you?”?

 “Sir, I heard the crab fleet is now concentrated
against us?”

 “How did you know that? I just got done with the
briefing.”

 “I was at headquarters when the sensor information
came in. I'm back aboard the Gorgon. That's what the Aeternum named my ship.”

 Stokes considered the situation for a moment before
saying, “What's a gorgon?”

 “Some kind of mythical creature from Earth. I looked
it up once I found out what the ship was named. I contacted you because I think
there might be a way to help even the odds.”

 “I'm all ears, captain,” Stokes said.

 “I was looking at the way our forces are planning on
deploying. The initial plans seem good, with the plan to funnel the crab force
between planets and concentrate them where we can hit them with a massive
torpedo barrage. What happens next, though, is that the crab force will almost
certainly break up into four or five separate formations. Each of these
formations won't be enough to destroy our fleet, but they will be large enough
to hit Lashmere with overwhelming force.

 “I think we should use our advantage in mobility to
outmaneuver the crab fleet as they move through the system. Engage the first,
then the third, then the last groups. We'll leave the second and fourth groups
alone, so they're forced to choose between defending their fleet and making a
drive towards Lashmere. With luck, we can stop them short of Lashmere itself. I
put together a rough plan and sent it over to Hal to chop before you take it
over to Misato, sir.”

 “Good thinking, Aden,” Stokes said. “Is that
everything?”

 “No, sir. I recommend we redeploy the automated drone
platforms around Lashmere itself as a final line of defense. I also planned on
using the Behemoth as the mobile fortress. Each time the rest of the fleet
engages one of the crab formations moving through the system, Behemoth will
maneuver to engage one of the other groups, harassing them and not letting them
concentrate on hitting Lashmere directly. My local simulation says it has a
worse chance of success than a straight line defense, but I don't think the
simulation is assigning a suitable variable to the mobility of our forces.”

 “What if the crabs stay in a single group and move
through the system?”

 “If that happens, we can run a series of flanking
actions to break the fleet that survives the torpedo barrage in an effort to
break them up into the smaller groups we need. If the crabs stay massed in a
large group, we'll gnaw at their flanks and the outlying ships until we whittle
their numbers down to a manageable amount and then hit them with an all out
attack. Also, if the crabs stay massed, the railgun aboard Behemoth can be
employed at least once. One shot from that weapon should convince the crabs to
break into smaller groups we can then defeat with higher local concentrations
of our own forces.”

 “We're relying a lot on unproven systems. We don't
know for sure if the point to point drive on Behemoth even works. The railgun
is still untested, and we can't be sure it will work either.”

 “Why can't we test the railgun at least?”

 “I'm letting Commodore Erickson run her own shakedown
and training. She plans to test the gun tomorrow.”

 “That'll answer some tactical questions, provided it
works, then,” Patho said.

 “We only have eight days at most,” Stokes said.

 “Have the crabs begun moving in our direction again,
sir?”

 “Not yet. I plan to keep the fleet informed of all
developments on that front as I become aware of them. I must say, Captain, your
plan is one of the best I've heard so far. Almost everything the board of
admirals has been considering has been a variation of either an all out line of
battle or a type of layered defense, forcing the crabs to fight their way
through us before they can get to Lashmere.”

 “None of those plans will work, sir. If we try a
straight up fight without seriously diminishing their numbers, they will easily
defeat us,” Patho said. “That's why I'm proposing this strategy.”

 “I'm not sure the board of admirals will approve
anything that leaves Lashmere open to attack,” Stokes said.

 “Mind if I ask you a question, sir?”

 “Of course.”

 “How did the alliance get all those ships to move
three hundred light years in a single hop? Even with Aeternum working on the
problem, we can't make more than about fifty light year jumps.”

 “We're working on that problem right now. As you know,
the principles behind the point to point drive system allow for unlimited
distance of travel. The problem is one of energy production. If the alliance
found a way to supply enough power to a variation of the point to point drive,
the maneuver they used is completely possible, it's just the amount of energy
needed that's in the realm of the unimaginable.”

 “I'm sure Marli will figure out how they did it, sir.
Maybe we can adapt their strategy to protect Lashmere too.”

 “In eight days? I doubt it. The best we can hope for
is it can't be used as a delivery system for their plague.”

 “I had forgotten about that, sir,” Patho said. “If
they can send an entire fleet three hundred light years, sending a few kilos of
virus another six or seven won't be much of an issue for them.”

 “You know, she came to me with a plan to raid all of
the old Terran Empire facilities for their research. It was a pretty good plan,
but I wanted to wait and see if we were going to need her here during the
defense,” Stokes said.

 “Why don't you send her out? Her one ship won't make
any real difference here.”

 “I don't want to send her out alone for starters, and
I'm unwilling to weaken our defenses by even a single destroyer. The expedition
she proposed needs far more than that. It needs at least two assault cruisers,
a support ring, four destroyers, two stealth corvettes and her research
corvette. Anything less than that and I don't think they have a good chance of
returning. We just don't know what's out there. Our sensor range is less than
three hundred twenty-five light years and some of the places she proposed to go
were over ten thousand light years away.”

 Patho stared at something off his screen for a moment
before putting on an assumed expression of confidence. Stokes recognized it for
what it was, but he appreciated the effort the younger man made. “Once we've
kicked the shells off these crabs, we'll put together a true task force to
track down all the research she could ever want, sir.”

 Stokes said, “I'm sure we will, captain.”

 Marli Simmons sat in her office aboard the Loki. The
movement of the crab fleet, or half of it, had gotten her to thinking. If it
was possible to move a thousand ships three hundred light years, she should be
able to move one ship a thousand, if not more. Knowing it was possible just
made her more driven to find out the answer. The idea that some alliance
scientist had a better understanding of the principals behind the point to
point drive system made her insane inside. It was completely unacceptable in
her mind to allow anyone to take technology she'd created and use it in a way
she didn't understand.