Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

-17-

The enemy ships came into range three hours later. They’d adopted, by that time, what we considered to be unorthodox tactics.

“They’ve formed a column, sir,” Durris said.

“A column?”

“Yes, they’ve lined up their ships. Only one of them is visible from our point of view.”

I rubbed my chin briefly. “I see. They know now that we have superior range, and they’ve adapted. With only one ship in front of all the others, they hope to reduce the odds of our striking them.”

“Exactly. Oh, and sir, the lead ship is not Captain Lorn’s.”

Chuckling, I found myself unsurprised. There was some humanity left in that Stroj after all. He wasn’t interested in dying. He was going to let someone else do it for him. I had to wonder if he was in the very last ship in the line.

“All right,” I said. “Hold your fire. I assume they’re still dodging from side to side in a random pattern?”

“Yes, in perfect synchronicity.”

“Right. Try to figure out their pattern and plot it, Durris.”

He frowned. “Sir, I just said the pattern was random—”

I lifted a finger in his direction. “But it isn’t. It can’t be, really. They aren’t coordinating with transmissions between the ships, are they?”

“No.”

“Well then, they must be running a program that generates a seemingly random course adjustment after a predetermined length of time. That way, they’re all able to stay in a perfect line.”

“Hmm,” he said, studying the data. After a few minutes, he returned with fresh hope in his eyes. “I think you’re right, sir. They’re shifting course about every eleven seconds. This is very consistent, and it matches your theory. They’re all following a pattern.”

“Exactly. Break the code, Durris. When you do, we’ll strike.”

We stayed almost motionless for the following ninety-one minutes. By that time, even I was doubting the rationality of my plan. I stood up and joined Durris at the planning table. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the fact the command deck was heavily air-conditioned.

“We’re in optimal range now,” I said. “The enemy must think we’re dead in space. No power, no weapons—nothing.”

“Yes sir, I know sir.”

“And while that does offer some strategic advantages,” I continued, “I was hoping—”

“I’m sorry sir. There are three possibilities, and I just can’t narrow it down from there.”

I blinked. “Only three?”

“Yes sir. I’ve been stuck on this for the last half-hour. I just can’t—”

My hand came up to rest heavily on his shoulder. “Give me your three solutions. I’ll deal with it from here.”

He complied, and I pondered them. I chose one at random and ordered Zye to unload all our cannons at once. We’d fire a full-burn barrage on one of the three possible positions the enemy might shift to.

Zye frowned at me. “The usual tactic is to spread out your fire so that—”

“We only have eleven seconds, Zye,” I said. “Follow my orders, or I’ll find someone who will.”

Without another word, she engaged the algorithm. The cannons went live and after the next shift, they fired all at once.

The ship’s response was remarkable. The deck shivered, and the lights dimmed. We were at our power limits, even with our engines dead and disengaged.

A tremendous gush of power traveled downrange at the speed of light. We were still several light-seconds distant from the enemy, so we didn’t know instantly if we’d guessed right.

“Cycle the batteries,” I said. “Fire them all again on the second solution in seven… six—”

“Sir, the cooling cycle hasn’t completed yet.”

“I’m well aware of that. Three… two… one… fire!”

The cannons unleashed their fury again.

“Retarget on the third—” I began.

“Sir!” Zye called out. “We’ve got a flame out on seven, twelve and nineteen. Taking them offline until—”

“Fire again on my mark! Seven… six…”

“Hold it!” Yamada shouted. “We’ve got a hit!”

“Confirmed?” I demanded.

“Yes sir, on screen at extreme visual range.”

The forward screen lit up, and it was the most beautiful sight I’d seen so far today. A blossom of blue-white gas flared into existence. As soon as it faded, a second expanded into view behind it.

I began to grin. My plan had worked.

“Stand down the cannons. Send work crews to the roof to work on the failed units. Tell them to be prepared to duck in case we need to fire again.”

“Crews dispatched.”

Wheeling around to Yamada, I leaned forward anxiously. “How many did we get?”

“It’s hard to interpret, given the enemy’s placement,” she said, staring into her instrumentation. “I think we burned through the first ship right into the second and probably a third, all at once.”

She looked up at me. “That was your plan, wasn’t it, sir? That’s why you let them get close. So they’d be lined up for a single hard blow that would knock them all out at once?”

I shrugged. “They adapted, so I did the same.”

“Genius,” she muttered, turning back to her instruments.

It was Durris, however, who made the determination on how we’d scored.

“Three ships destroyed, sir, and a fourth badly damaged. They’ve broken up their formation and they’re all widely dispersed now, weaving new and differing patterns.”

I nodded, satisfied but not finished.

“Target the damaged ship. I assume it’s not moving with the same alacrity as the others?”

He glanced at me. “No sir. But…”

I looked at him. “Has the damaged ship turned away?”

“No. They’re continuing to close.”

“First Officer Durris,” I said. “I’ve fought the Stroj before. They’re not easily dissuaded. In fact, in my experience, they have to suffer very heavy losses before they break off an attack. Fire on my mark.”

Durris turned away without a word. The cannons hummed, then buzzed, then sang. Another ship was destroyed, unable to shift away fast enough. We’d made a good accounting of ourselves.

“Captain? Lorn is hailing us.”

I looked at Yamada in surprise. I hadn’t expected this. Parley in the midst of heated battle? Could it be a ruse?

“Open the channel, but keep up a random spread of predictive attacks. Maybe we can catch another of their ships before they get in close enough to shoot back.”

While the cannons buzzed and sang periodically overhead, the forward screen lit up again.

“Sparhawk, you devil,” the pirate said. He glared at me with a hate that was palpable.

“Captain,” I said, “this is a surprise. Do you wish to discuss terms?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have new demands. I’ll accept only your person as a trophy. In turn, I’ll let your ship escape, and I’ll leave the station alone. Your beloved Connatic will live on, as will all her people. What do you say?”

“What changed your mind?” I asked curiously.

He snarled at me. We both knew my smashing blow to the enemy’s snout had changed everything. He no longer had the clear upper hand.

“Do you accept my terms, or not?” he demanded.

I hesitated for a few seconds. It was a tempting offer in some ways. One life in trade for millions. Did I value my own skin so highly?

The trouble was, of course, I couldn’t trust the Stroj to keep their word. Even if they did, they’d probably come back next year and do it all again.

“I have different terms in mind,” I said. “Destroy your weapons, abandon your ships and set them adrift. If you do that, I’ll stop firing. We’ll pick you up, and I promise every Stroj who’s still breathing now will continue to do so.”

“That’s your final word on the topic?” he marveled.

“It is.”

“Truly, I expected no less from you. We’ll make fine roommates in Hell, you and I, Sparhawk.”

The channel closed.

“Continue firing,” I said.

“But sir… they’re breaking off.”

I blinked at Yamada in surprise. “Hold fire then,” I said.

Then I turned toward Durris and his planning table. I joined him at his boards.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“They’re turning to a new course, fleeing. This must be the reason.”

Tiny new contacts were on the boards now. They were distant, but closing.

“Are those missiles?”

Durris smiled. “No, sir. They’re fighters. The Connatic has finally committed herself.”

I smiled back. “I knew she would,” I said—but in truth, I’d known no such thing. It was technically a lie, but I had meant it to be morale-building, so it didn’t trouble me much.

“Sir,” Durris said a few minutes later, “I’ve figured out where the enemy is going—there’s another ER bridge out there. They’re heading for it.”

Studying the data, I came to the same conclusion. It left me in a quandary. Should I let them go, or should I blast them until their last ship was destroyed?

-18-

In the end, I let the Stroj ships escape. It was probably a misguided act of mercy, but when an enemy is defeated and fleeing, any Star Guard officer would have trouble killing them as they ran.

After all, the Stroj had been human once. They’d warped away from Basics such as myself, their term for Earthmen, but perhaps they could be taught the concept of honor once again through example. It was a faint hope, but one that I refused to give up on.

The Connatic’s fighters never caught the enemy ships as they fled, but they did return eventually to tow us back to their friendly port.

Our second visit to Tranquility Station was much more pleasant and cordial than the first had been. The Gi people welcomed all my crewmen this time with open arms. We were more than their allies now, we were their saviors.

The station’s mechanics became wholly focused on repairing
Defiant
’s significant damage. Ambassador Grantholm quickly took to showing exaggerated interest in anything to do with Gi fashion, culture or cuisine. There is no doubt that boasting of her familiarity of alien subtleties would cause her to be the envy of all the Great Houses of Earth.

The Connatic was particularly accommodating. She and I shared each other’s company nightly. This fact never failed to put Zye into a bad mood, but I overcame her sullen glares.

After a month, our vessel was ready to fly again. During that time, the Gi people had impressed upon us one single fact: the Stroj were not done with this system. They would return to seek vengeance at some point. This didn’t concern me too much, as they’d sworn vengeance upon Earth as well. Perhaps if I kept beating them in battle, they’d have a long list of systems they wished to destroy, and the inhabitants would band together to bring them down once and for all.

When our engines were fully operational again, I called a conference aboard
Defiant
. My top commanders gathered, and we discussed our next move.

Ambassador Grantholm barged in when we were in a heated debate. Durris and Yamada wanted to press ahead and explore more systems, while I wanted to head home and share what we’d learned with Earth.

All of us looked up at the ambassador in surprise as she entered. Her brows were knit together, forming a potent glare as she swept the group with her eyes.

“So… you three again,” she said. “Does a day go by during which you don’t seek to undermine my authority?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ambassador,” I said.

“Of course not... You’ve already forgotten the division of authority on this ship? Is that it? I’m in charge when we aren’t in battle. This mission is mine to command when there’s no danger. I’m asserting that authority now.”

She stepped in and sat down across the table from me. Her aged fingers folded together into a wrinkled lattice, and she stared at me over the top of them.

“Very well,” I said. “We were just discussing our next destination. I wish to return to Earth, as we now have a great deal of data. We can transmit that data the moment we enter the Solar System, inquiring then where they think we should explore next.”

Grantholm chewed that over. It was a sound proposal. Surely, even she could see that.

“No,” she said at last. “We’ll press on. We’ll follow the Stroj. You should have destroyed those ships when you had the chance.”

“Is that what this is about, a difference in tactics?”

“Not at all. I simply wish to see where they went before they get away completely.”

“I can tell you that,” said Zye.

We all looked past the Ambassador. Zye had appeared in the doorway, behind the older woman. I frowned at this development. Zye often managed to horn her way into these events. She didn’t seem to care if she’d been invited or not.

“Zye, why are you here?” Grantholm asked pointedly.

She shrugged. “I know more about the Stroj than any of you. Will you not allow my input?”

Heaving a sigh, Ambassador Grantholm waved for her to enter and be seated.

That was another thing that irked me. Grantholm had demanded mission command again on the basis that we weren’t in a combat situation. I had no choice but to give it to her, but the point was contestable. At any moment we might be attacked again, which to me indicated we were indeed still in danger.

Holding my peace with difficulty, I sat quietly while Zye sat down and looked at the Ambassador.

“The bridge the Stroj took goes to Beta,” she said. “I’ve managed to interpret the maps that the Connatic shared with us. They were encoded oddly, with a different coordinate system, but the results are clear.”

“Beta?” I asked. “That’s odd. Why would they do that? Surely your people’s navy would destroy them.”

She looked at me, and I saw a sadness in her eyes. “They would if they were able. But since the Stroj chose that route, I can only assume they can’t stop the pirates.”

“Grim news,” Grantholm said. “Beta was counted as a possible ally of Earth’s. I hope you’re wrong.”

“Me too,” Zye said.

We continued the discussion, but in the end, Grantholm prevailed. She was technically in command of the mission overall, and in the current situation I couldn’t convince even myself we were under immediate threat.

As far as I could tell, she only wanted to press on in order to return home with a more dramatic series of accomplishments. I railed against her orders, but it was hopeless. Unless I was willing to toss my own aunt into the brig and declare myself a mutineer, I had no choice but to accept her directives.

We adjourned and moved to our posts on the command deck. The ship thrummed and the repaired engines pushed us gently away from the station.

The Connatic wished me well on the main screen, and I returned her salute. I was keenly aware of a few smirks shared by my crewmen, but I pretended not to notice. Let them think what they may, she and I were both doing what we thought was best for our commands.

We gathered speed without incident as we crossed the star system until we reached the point where the Stroj ships had vanished. By that time, I’d carefully reviewed the information Zye had decoded. If this bridge did lead to the Beta home system, the implications were both clear and alarming.

We entered hyperspace smoothly, wondering what we’d find beyond.

A few hundred hours later, we found our way out of the maze of hyperspace. The star maps given to us by the Connatic helped with the mapping process, but as hyperspace was typically unstable, they weren’t perfect. This time, the intervening region seemed to be in flux. The points we’d left behind us varied greatly, and we were a full twenty-nine degrees off our original course when we managed to solve the curve and find our way out.

At last, we located the exit. It was with some relief we found ourselves in a new region of normal space. Prolonged periods spent in hyperspace—or nonexistence, as some physicists insisted was the case—never allowed a crew to rest easy. The accounts from the past explorers of Earth had been very clear on that point. There’d even been recorded stories of crews becoming hopelessly lost and going mad with fear and grief before escaping through the end-point of a bridge. When such lost souls finally wended their way back to our part of the universe, the survivors were never able to serve effectively again.

Such thoughts also led to the ominous knowledge that many exploratory missions were never heard from again. Fully fourteen percent of “blue-jumps”, as they were called, never returned home.

Even some of the jumps directly out of Earth had been labeled as deadly, and no one had ever figured out exactly where they led. They were like the blank regions on ancient maps, the equivalent of seafaring cartography that imagined a sharp edge to the world, with ravenous monsters waiting just beyond.

With some trepidation, we examined our surroundings.

“Gravimetrics?” I demanded.

“Good readings so far,” Yamada said cautiously. “There’s no black hole, no high-radiation giant. Looks like we’ll survive our first hour, sir.”

I turned to Durris, who was working up a closer analysis of the data. He wasn’t looking for planetary bodies or stellar ones, he was looking for ships, mines and missiles.

“First Officer, will we survive?”

“As far as I can tell, sir,” he said.

Sighs of relief swept the command deck.

“We’ve come out pretty far from the central sun,” Durris continued. “We’ll have to fly a long time to get to the rocky inner planets—assuming that’s where we’re headed.”

“First, tell me if the star charts the Connatic provided us with are correct. Is this the Beta home system, or not?”

Durris hesitated, going over the data and comparing measurements to our past records.

Zye wasn’t so reluctant to make her declaration. “This
is
Beta, sir. I can recognize my own sun and the circling litter of planets. It’s strange being home again.”

I eyed her thoughtfully. She was showing emotion in a way that was rare for her. Rather than a face of stone, or a mask of anger, she was looking wistful. Her eyes were glued to the forward screens, which displayed the central sun in all its glory.

“Welcome home, Zye,” Rumbold said. “Every spacer knows the feeling well, but I’ve never been away so long as you have.”

It was a poignant moment, but there was one individual on the command deck who seemed not to notice.

“Sparhawk?” Lady Grantholm asked. “Why are we sitting out here on the rim of the system? Take us in closer, man.”

I gave her a glance, then nodded to Durris who plotted a course.

“Nothing on the scopes,” Zye said, turning back to her work. “No known enemies appear to be waiting for us. There’s nothing out here but comets and asteroids, sir—this system is full of them.”

The Beta home system was younger than the Solar System and lacked a gas giant of sufficient mass such as Jupiter to clean out all the outer system debris. That was part of what made her home planet so inhospitable. In addition to nasty life forms, a high gravitational pull and raging tides, the planet was frequently bombarded by chunks of matter from space.

“Have you located Beta?” I asked Durris.

“Yes sir. Course plotted.”

“Helm, let’s get underway.”

Smoothly, we powered away from our entry point and approached the inner planets. The central star blazed and twinkled, being a little less stable than Sol. It wasn’t a flare-throwing inferno like Gliese-32, but it wasn’t a perfectly steady burner, either.

As we approached over the following day, I came to appreciate how perfect Earth was at providing a stable platform for life. We’d been spoiled by eons of minor storms, balanced temperatures and only the rarest collisions with errant chunks of ice.

After some twenty hours of steady flight, we were challenged by an incoming message.

“Unknown ship… you must turn back.”

The message came in without visuals, but in a way, they weren’t necessary.

Everyone on the command deck looked at Zye. The voice speaking to us was her voice. There was absolutely no difference in cadence, tone or inflection—which is to say, there was no inflection at all.

Zye looked back at us for a moment, uncomprehendingly. “You must answer promptly,” she said. “Or they will fire a missile barrage.”

Lady Grantholm cleared her throat. “Yamada,” she said, “put me in touch with these ruffians.”

“Transmitting.”

“Greetings, kind souls of the planet Beta. We are from Earth. We’re on a peaceful mission, and we only wish to explore your system.”

“Spies are not permitted,” the response came back several long minutes later. We were pretty far out, and each exchange took quite a while to reach the other speaker.

“But Betas,” Grantholm pressed, “please listen. I’m an Ambassador from Earth. I’m empowered to offer you treaties, including trade between our planets and military assistance.”

The reply came back somewhat faster this time, as we were approaching them at great speed.

“There are no Earth ships. Even if there were, we would not agree to any of your proposals. We have no need of military assistance. We have even less desire to trade trinkets with vagabonds.”

Grantholm looked surprised and annoyed. She summed up her next pitch in her mind, took in a deep breath and—

Before she could say anything, the Betas talked to us again.

“We’ve analyzed your ship in detail. We’re shocked to recognize it. As we initially believed, you are a band of pirates. You’ve stolen our ship, and no doubt killed her crew. Prepare to be destroyed.”

Grantholm made a squawking sound. “Please, listen to me,” she begged. “I can explain everything. Don’t start an interplanetary incident without cause. We’re here in the name of peace.”

“They’ve fired a barrage,”  Zye said calmly.

“She’s right, sir,” Yamada said. “Your orders?”

She was looking at me. They all were.

I was back in command of my ship, but under the circumstances, that didn’t please me at all.

“Get them talking again!” my aunt demanded. She staggered toward Yamada angrily. “I can stop this.”