“No, that’s not necessary. Patch him through immediately.”
Stephen Campbell’s voice came through in mid sentence, “—tenant Wilkins, do you copy?”
“Yes, Sir. This is Ruben. What’s happening?”
“All hell broke loose out here. We’re under attack. A full Wasatti strike force has entered the system.”
A strike force was nine to ten ships of varying capabilities, but it had to include at least a strong cruiser contingent. All they had here at Vega to protect the facilities were three inconspicuous frigates. That’s not good, Ruben thought, and we’re not even concentrated for combined operations. “What? How’d they find us?”
“Don’t know,” Stephen replied. “They must have followed the Argonaut’s courier in. That’s all I can figure. That’d at least explain how they knew exactly where the base was. They appeared on our screens two minutes ago. They are vectoring directly toward the base, bearing 237, Plus 42. Break the Perry free, immediately. Get him out!”
“Stephen, I can’t—”
“Don’t tell me what you can’t do. Tell me what you can. I know what you think about the ship’s capabilities, but now’s not the time to worry. Save that ship!”
If only it were that simple, Ruben thought. “But the kids are still on board. They got caught here before ship lock-down.”
“Ruben, get the kids to the rad room. I am sending an override to the ship. It is now leaving the hangar on its own initiative.”
The ship made an announcement, “I am now initiating the ship’s gravity field independent of the base’s generation.”
Ruben felt the ship power up and come about. His stomach lurched as the two artificial gravity fields fought against each other. It took a moment for him to gain his balance in the claustrophobic corridor.
Stephen continued to issue commands to Ruben as the ship moved toward the hangar exit. “Get to the bridge and set the FTL to Alpha Bootis. Once you arrive at the jump point, take stock of the ship, and if he can continue, rendezvous with the task force at Sigma Bootis.”
Not without a fight, Ruben promised himself. This was supposed to be the Academy’s most powerful ship, and the captain was telling him to retreat like a frightened child. “Skipper, you need our firepower here,” he began.
“Rube! Not against a full strike force. No time for arguments! Get that ship out of here; and those kids. We don’t even know if your weapons are hot. Now move!”
He conceded the point about the weapons. They had yet to be tested, which infuriated Ruben to no end. He thought about the situation before coming to a hard decision. All his life he was a military man of action, and this went against every fiber of his being. “Yes, Sir!” he replied reluctantly.
Ruben snapped into action. He looked at the children surrounding him, “You heard the captain. Mr. Hamadi, do you know how to make it to the rad room?”
“Yes, I can do that,” Ali replied.
“Good boy; I trust you. Get the rest of the kids into the safe room. Seal it off and prepare for jump. Can you do that?”
Ali swallowed a gulp of air and nodded. The concern in the young boy’s eyes was obvious, but Ruben was sure he could handle it.
Jimmy grabbed a handful of Ruben’s jersey, stopping him in his tracks. “W-wait …! Where are you going?” he pleaded.
“I’m going to the bridge to get us out of here. I have a job to do, and so do you. Move it!” Ruben tore loose from Jimmy’s grasp and ran forward toward the bridge. “Ship, make sure those passengers make it to the radiation room.”
“Okay, Lieutenant Wilkins,” the ship replied happily.
Ruben glanced over his shoulder and saw the children disappear down the access way to the lower deck.
* * *
Without warning, the strike force entered the Vega system perilously close to the ecliptic. Nine warships—five cruisers, three destroyers, and a frigate—broke from K-T-space, recklessly heading directly into the swarm of asteroids. The lead destroyer came out of jump directly within a large rock. The mass of the ship instantaneously fused with the iron asteroid as the ship materialized—atom by atom—into normal space. The crew never knew what hit them.
Sar ap Kel ignored the destroyed ship as an acceptable loss and put it out of his mind. It served its purpose of paving the way for the more valuable cruisers trailing in its wake.
General Kel was the military leader of the entire Wasatti Empire. He was also in command of the second fleet the humans had encountered years ago, immediately earning a reputation as a ruthless killer. He still glowed from the memory of that confused human captain, pleading for him to respond to her call. As if that “thing” warranted a response! Sar ap Kel recalled. He hoped to experience that feeling again today, especially after his recent disappointments at Sigma Bootis. His was a reputation he carefully cultivated, specifically to enrage and disconcert the puny humans standing between him and absolute conquest of the surrounding star systems.
The Wasatti—Sar ap Kel was proud to acknowledge—was a confident race, worthy of ruling the galaxy. They were a large species, nearly nine feet tall in the reckoning of the humans. Each surface of their body had evolved into a weapon useful in melee. They had chitinous, iridescent armor plates, resembling the scales from some prehistoric fish. They were massive and insect-like, with large, sharp, opposable claws suspended from two spindly, yet powerful, arms. Two muscular, inversely articulated legs supported their vast weight and provided them a stilted gait like a predatory bipedal dinosaur. Three razor-sharp claws, which could eviscerate prey in one sweeping motion, branched from each foot. Their head was shaped like an inverted, chiseled pyramid, with irregular sharp edges protruding along well-defined cranial ridges. Serrated fangs jutted from a large, powerful mouth, hanging below bulbous eyes that were multi-faceted and as soulless as a deep pool of tar. It was obvious they were built as natural-born fighters with a nasty temperament. When not fighting enemies, they scrapped among themselves for dominance, creating the ultimate race in the survival of the fittest.
“Have you located their base?” Sar ap Kel rasped in a brusque baritone.
“Coming up now, General,” the Arms-Master answered.
“Do I read your mind, like a Hive weakling?” Sar ap Kel yelled.
“No, General.” The Arms-Master wilted at Sar ap Kel’s scowl. “It is on your screens now.” He quickly input the location of the small asteroid previously discovered by the stealth Wasatti spy ship.
Sar ap Kel eyed the tiny speck like a juicy morsel on a serving tray. His mandibles watered.
“We’ve lost another destroyer,” Tactical announced. “Hit an asteroid. Not from enemy fire.”
Sar ap Kel disregarded the information. “What force is protecting this system?”
“Unknown, General,” Tactical replied. “We only have one ship plotted. It’s the original one that communicated with their courier ship.”
“They must have additional forces in their fleet,” Sar ap Kel observed. “Find them.”
“It is difficult to find ships through all this debris,” Tactical answered.
Sar ap Kel glanced at his tactical officer. Enough excuses. He pulled a disruptor from his belt and shot him squarely through the neck.
A hyper-dense pellet of particle energy passed swiftly through his body, splattering green fluids throughout the bridge of the large cruiser. The head of the former tactical officer hung limply to the side of the gaping hole. A moment later it fell to the bare metal deck with a solid thud. I never did like him, Sar ap Kel mused. “Arms-Master, you are now Tactical. Perhaps you will have less difficulties carrying out my commands. I say once again: find that enemy fleet.”
“Yes, General ….” The former Arms-Master scrambled to the tactical station, throwing the decapitated body of his former crewmate aside.
Sar ap Kel could see that old Arms-Master Silferen was pleased he advanced two bridge positions at once. He watched him furiously begin searching for the protecting fleet su
re to be hidden somewhere within the concealing belt.
General Kel looked around his bridge, “Nav-3, you are now Arms-Master. Continue to prepare the Planet Penetrator. Once that base is triangulated, input the coordinates into its targeting system.”
“Yes, General.”
“Do we know what is being built out here?” Sar ap Kel asked his executive officer.
She shrugged her shoulders. “No, General Kel. Up until several hours ago, we did not even know this facility existed.” The XO peered through her enhancing opticals. “It appears to be a ship-building facility. Very little activity, however.”
“Have they completed their project? Is there even a project?”
“Unknown, General,” the XO replied. “Insufficient information to offer a viable opinion.” She was sitting to the right of Sar ap Kel, near the command console, but not too close. She was sleek and muscled, and only a half-head shorter than the general himself.
“Humph,” Sar ap Kel replied sarcastically. He noticed that sel Roan did not flinch at his remark. She is a strong one, Sar ap Kel thought, difficult to unsettle. A useful officer; which means I need to keep my claws around her throat. He also wondered if she would make an acceptable brood-mate—not for the first time. “Tactical!” Sar ap Kel shouted, trying to get his mind off the attractive officer to his right.
“Still searching,” Meg ap Silferen replied. “I have a tactical solution on the original ship, though.”
“Probability of destruction?” Sar ap Kel asked.
“Presently thirty–two percent. Probability increases point two per minute at present parameters.”
Three minutes of flight time and there will be a paltry five percent chance of a miss, Sar ap Kel calculated. “Good. Fire all weapons on that ship in two-and-a-half minutes.”
“Yes, General,” Meg ap Silferen replied. “Full forward salvo prepared and waiting.”
The force of that attack would produce enough directed energy to light half of Sar ap Kel’s home continent for thirty minutes. More than enough to destroy that frigate.
“Penetrator is prepared and targeted on the base, General,” the Arms-Master announced.
Sar ap Kel’s mandibles watered again. The Penetrator directed several claws-full of super-critical antimatter to deep within its target, setting off a chain reaction from the point of detonation outward in a thirty-mile sphere of complete annihilation. And, Sar ap Kel thought in glee, more than enough to destroy that puny base world. “Very well. Set the Penetrator free,” Sar ap Kel commanded.
Sar ap Kel’s flagship bucked imperceptibly as the deadly probe ejected from the tube and headed toward one small speck among billions.
* * *
Ruben rushed through the bridge hatchway and threw himself into the command chair. He had a momentary sense of vertigo watching the base hangar drift toward the ceiling of the bridge as the ship continued to maneuver automatically. He needed to fight off a sense of helpless falling, and was glad he was sitting down. That view screen is just too realistic; it’s like it isn’t even there. Something to tell the designers; if we live through this.
“Ship, what’s our current status?”
“The outer lock of the VCB is now open,” the ship responded. “VCB is going to maximum security. I am utilizing all upper thrusters at maximum capacity, as instructed by Captain Campbell’s remote orders. I should remind you that Captain Campbell has overriding priority over your commands.”
Someone’s gotta tell this thing I’m aware of military protocol, Ruben thought. “Yes, yes, I know that,” Ruben replied tartly.
The ship ignored the sarcasm. “Forward pitch is being adjusted to Neg 37 degrees. We will be clear of the hangar in 40.2 seconds. I hope you are in agreement with the actions I have taken so far. Did I do well?”
The ship reminded Ruben of a puppy prancing around his ankles and begging for praise. “Yes,” Ruben agreed irritated, “that’s fine.”
“I am looking forward to feeling space. I can already feel an appreciable temperature drop along my forward ancillary sections. I calculate the temperature gradient is—”
“Belay all personal expectations, ship.” Ruben began wondering who he would rather work with in a battle situation: this ship, or those kids. He was not entirely sure which.
“Clarification needed, Lieutenant Wilkins: does that include all tactical battle projections?”
“This, I don’t need at the moment, ship. No, anything to do with the status of the ship, the enemy, or our fleet I want you to discuss. Nothing about what you hope to feel.”
“I am sorry; I did not realize I displeased you. I will try harder in the future.”
Ruben spent a moment tapping the command chair armrest before deciding to break anything. It was a ritual Stephen insisted he try in order to remain calm. This time, it barely worked. Nothing on the bridge would be broken. “Ship ….” Ruben barked, but did not know how to proceed.
“Yes, Lieutenant Wilkins?”
He gave up trying to explain his feelings to the ship. Instead, he said, “Get me a line to Captain Campbell.”
“Of course. Incidentally, we have just broken free of the base. Captain Campbell is now connected.”
A small insert at the lower corner of the view screen appeared and Ruben saw Stephen at the Sirius’ command post. The captain looked like he was in a small bubble of air, surrounded by near-VCB space. Nearby debris and a background of stars began to move as the ship accelerated away from the base.
“Rube, what’s your status?”
“Ship is now free, Skipper. And the kids are safe.”
“Thanks,” Stephen replied. The relief on his face was obvious. “Are they jump-ready?”
“Don’t know,” Ruben replied, “but I’ll be sure before we jump.”
“I can offer some clarification to Lieutenant Wilkins’ lack of knowledge,” the ship suggested.
“Okay, what is it?” Stephen asked.
“All five children entered the Radiation Protection Room from 12.6 to 15.3 seconds ago. The female of the group was the first to connect her CT-suit 6.7 seconds ago; she appears to be very nimble. One of the four males—”
An input stylus in Ruben’s hand snapped in half with a satisfying crack.
“Belay previous command,” Stephen shouted. “Just answer if they are all plugged in.”
“A remaining child is attempting to do so now. He should be plugged in within—correction; he just finished plugging in. You should be relieved to know that all five children are now plugged in.”
Ruben tossed the remaining half of the stylus onto the deck, barely missing the ’cycler slot.
“Okay, that’s enough. Ship, give me an overall ship operability status report.”
Ruben amended Stephen’s command. “Uh, make that an abbreviated report, ship.”
“Of course. All of my systems are working wonderfully, Captain. Lieutenant Wilkins will not allow me to talk about how I feel, though. I wish I could share them with you. I am also curious as to exactly what my full capabilities are in a situation like this.”
Ruben interjected, “It’s a long story, Captain. What’s going on out there?”
“The enemy fleet is 7.3 l-m away, and closing fast. I’m transferring tactical to your station. They’ve lost two ships already coming in. I hope they continue being so reckless.”
Ruben glanced at his tactical screen. Seven inverted yellow cones were tracing directly toward the base.
Stephen continued with his assessment. “The Glinting Algol is closest to them. I calculate Captain Blakely is one l-m away from the lead Wasatti ship about now. He’s still running silent, as is Capella’s Herd. Trouble is: the Capella is on the other side of the system; even beyond us. I sent out to O’Brien to have the Capella join us at maximum velocity, but I doubt she’ll arrive for at least ten minutes.”
“Blakely’s got the usual standing orders?” Ruben asked.
When at a tactical disadvantage, a unit in an ambush
position was instructed to attack the tail of an advancing column in an attempt to divide the enemy forces. The theory was that the leading forces would continue on at a weakened state, thus relieving pressure on the main defending force.
“Yeah,” Stephen replied. “About now he should be firing at the fifth ship in their line. With luck, he should be able to dispatch two of ’em before breaking off. In addition, I hope their trailing ship falls off to follow him. That will leave four ships for Capella and me to deal with.”
“Good,” Ruben replied. “If I stay, that will give us the tactical advantage. I can—”
“Negative, Ruben. I still want you out of here.”
Ruben figured that would be Stephen’s response, but he had to try anyway. He was anxious to see what the ship could do in battle after all these years of development. He chuckled for a moment realizing he and the ship shared similar desires.
“You got that course plotted?”
“Not yet, Cap’n.”
“Do it. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruben replied dejectedly.
Each human ship had two keys to activate full navigational systems capability. One key was yellow and the other was blue. Together, they formed the green path, opening the entire human-Hive database. The nav keys looked like complex snowflakes, with embedded genetically initiated electronics tied to the captain. The keys were purposely fragile so they could be destroyed as the last act of defending the bridge from boarders. For redundancy, the captain and first officer each had a set and a third was secreted away in some random hiding place within the ship. Three bridge officers always knew the location of the third set, just in case of accidental breakage. It was a failsafe system designed to keep enemy hands from classified data.
The ship could function without full activation, although with very limited scope. Sublight travel was possible without either key, but FTL—without full path activation—was hazardous, to say the least. With no keys activated, a ship’s navigational capacity was wholly inadequate at only thirty–three percent, with all reference points shutout. One key activated a further thirty–three percent, but with still no navigational referents opened up, while the final key opened up the entire database. Jumping was impossible without any keys, and just this side of suicidal with only one activated key. At that state, everything associated with the colonies was purposely redacted from the computer and further hidden among the other holes randomly inserted within the navigational database.