BOOKS BY ISAAC HOOKE

Military Science Fiction

A Captain's Crucible Series

Flagship

Test of Mettle

Cradle of War

Planet Killer

Worlds at War

Alien War Trilogy

Hoplite

Zeus

Titan

ATLAS Trilogy (published by 47North)

ATLAS

ATLAS 2

ATLAS 3

Science Fiction

The Forever Gate Series

The Dream

A Second Chance

The Mirror Breaks

They Have Wakened Death

I Have Seen Forever

Rebirth

Walls of Steel

The Pendulum Swings

The Last Stand

Thrillers

The Ethan Galaal Series

Clandestine

A Cold Day in Mosul

Terminal Phase

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WORLDS AT WAR

A CAPTAIN'S CRUCIBLE

BOOK FIVE

Isaac Hooke

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

Text copyright © Isaac Hooke 2016

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

www.IsaacHooke.com

Cover design by Isaac Hooke

Cover image by Shookooboo

Special thanks to the following Beta Readers who helped out with Worlds at War:

Nicole P.

Sandy G.

Gary F.

Lance W.

Lezza M.

Amy B.

Myles C.

Lisa A. G.

Gregg C.

Jeff K.

Mark C.

Mark P.

Jeremy G.

Doug B.

Jenny O.

Gene A.

Larry J.

Allen M.

Norman H.

Robine

Eric

table of contents

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

twenty-four

twenty-five

twenty-six

twenty-seven

twenty-eight

twenty-nine

thirty

thirty-one

thirty-two

thirty-three

thirty-four

thirty-five

postscript

about the author

acknowledgments

one

Blood splattered the Artificial’s face in thick droplets. It had only taken a single well-placed blow to end the meddling human’s existence. Unfortunately, the strike was somewhat messy.

Zhidao retrieved a wipe from a sanitary closet and proceeded to clean the blood from its face. The automated units around the Artificial paid no heed.

“Gary, please point camera two at me and transmit the feed,” Zhidao said. While the Artificial could detect blood that was directly in contact with its flesh, Zhidao had no sensors on its uniform.

The ship’s AI provided the feed from camera two, and Zhidao saw that the fatigues were spotted with more red dots in the torso region. Unfortunate: while the spots wouldn’t be too noticeable, the Artificial’s cautious nature wouldn’t allow it to keep those clothes for very long.

Zhidao transferred the corpse into a nearby container and shut the lid. The specialist second class had stumbled upon Zhidao when the Artificial was in the middle of changing bodies, and threatened to call security. Zhidao hadn’t been too pleased.

Zhidao glanced at the pool of blood and brain matter left behind on the deck, and scrunched up its nose. Human beings. So soft and fragile.

“Gary, dispatch a cleaning unit to mop up this mess,” Zhidao said. The Artificial could trust the ship’s AI to clean up a little blood and gore, but disposing of a human body? That was something only Zhidao could do. “And edit out the specialist from all footage pertaining to engineering compartment 3C.”

The ship’s AI was already tracking and rotoscoping Zhidao’s movements, removing the Artificial from all recordings that led to and from the compartment. It would be a simple matter to delete the specialist, too.

“When security personnel review the logs,” Gary said. “How will I explain the specialist’s entry into 3C, and subsequent abrupt disappearance?”

Zhidao considered that. “Modify the footage of the cameras in the passageway, too. Make it to look like he spaced himself out the nearest external airlock. Then edit some of his personal video logs, adding in some recordings that indicate signs of stress and psychological trauma due to the long years of space travel.”

“The modifications will be made,” the ship’s AI responded. “How do you wish me to explain his ability to open the airlock without authorization?”

“Place a few related hacking guides in his local cloud storage account,” Zhidao said. “If you can’t find anything relevant in our offline archives, upload fake files, password protect the actual contents, and make up the titles: ‘Complete Idiot’s Manual to Hacking Airlocks,’ and so forth.”

“It will be done,” Gary replied.

“Thank you.” Zhidao hoisted the container and the body hidden within onto a powered pallet and proceeded to the exit hatch.

At the automated garbage disposal deck, Zhidao brought the container to the incinerator and dumped the contents. The corpse and the old Artificial body flopped inside. Zhidao shut the door to the incinerator and departed before the stench of burnt flesh and fried electronics became too strong. The Artificial returned to the storage closet that functioned as its quarters.

After changing clothes, Zhidao summoned one of the disposal units and instructed it to eliminate the old fatigues. The Artificial then had Gary secure the hatch.

As it began the process of separating from this reality, Zhidao thought of the seventy years it had been at work in this region of space.

Seventy years spent trying to undermine the organics that inhabited the area. The Artificial had been biding its time ever since the first war with humanity. And it would continue doing so for the foreseeable future: the motherships of its brethren were still six hundred and thirty years away.

Zhidao was a Purple. The Purples belonged to the fighting class of the species and, among their sundry tasks, were responsible for devising the strategies needed to conquer other races. Zhidao was a member of the clandestine branch of the Purples, an advance force responsible for finding and infiltrating new organics and paving the way for the main invasion force.

As an infiltration agent, Zhidao sometimes spent millennia preparing a race for a takeover. Upon encountering a new species, Zhidao immediately assigned a technological classification as an indicator of how advanced the race was, and thus how difficult the species would be to conquer. The classifications ranged from Tech Class I, the human equivalent of the stone ages, all the way up to Tech Class V. Modern day humans were Tech Class III—basically, a rating that required no real infiltration. Indeed, seventy years ago, after Zhidao had made its determination of the human tech class, the approval to dispatch the motherships came almost immediately.

As expected, the humans had proved easy prey. Zhidao’s kind had easily taken Tau Ceti, and were set to conquer the remaining systems in the sector. Unfortunately, the Greens had interfered, causing the destruction of both of the involved motherships. The Greens then destroyed the Slipstream that led to this space, stranding Zhidao. But Zhidao’s brethren had warred with the Green faction on the other side of the galaxy, and won. The motherships set a course for human space once more, but without that Slipstream the arrival would take seven hundred years.

Counting the years that had passed since then, that left another six hundred and thirty. Until then, Zhidao would simply operate in the shadows, continuing to undermine humanity from within.

Zhidao achieved separation from this reality and floated in that supra-dimension above the realm humans knew. That place where time and space were irrelevant. Where it could communicate with its own species. It issued its report.

In that place, the concept of distance did not exist, and all communications took the same amount of time: twenty standard minutes in human terms, both ways, regardless of whether the involved brethren were separated by ten meters or a billion light years.

The response came.

The Twisted Ones are coming.

Zhidao returned to this reality. That was good news. It meant the human race would very likely be eliminated, as usually happened when a Tech Class V faced off against a Tech Class III. Afterward, the motherships would arrive in six hundred thirty years and dispatch the Great Formers to transmute the crust of the human homeworld into geronium. To power themselves, the Great Formers would feed upon the lingering energy signatures of humanity—the resonating imprints in the supra-dimension created by the billions of deceased inhabitants. Signatures that would be degraded after six hundred years, yes, but there would be enough of them to power his race for several lifetimes.

Zhidao was working on a way to hasten the arrival of the motherships. It involved stealing a key technology from the Twisted Ones.

If Zhidao failed, well, the humans were doomed either way.

two

You blasted fool!” Jonathan said. “How dare you accuse me!”

The pitiful little man stared at his feet. “I—”

“Get out of here before I charge you,” Jonathan said. “Immediately.”

Eyes downcast, the man rushed to the hatch and left the captain’s office.

Jonathan shook his head. Apparently the enlisted individual in question, a specialist third class who worked in engineering, had begun baking Black Forest cakes in recent months, and he often placed his creations in the cool storage unit of Wardroom Two so that he could eat some for lunch each day. Recently, pieces of that cake had begun to mysteriously disappear, and the specialist claimed he wasn’t the one who was eating them.

Um.

When Jonathan told the man to take it up with his CO, the man said he already had, and the CO hadn’t done anything. Then Jonathan told him to take it up with the department head. Again, the man already had. Finally Jonathan told him to bring it up with the captain’s first officer, Robert Cray.

“Why do you think I’m here?” the man said.

Jonathan realized it must have been Robert’s idea of a joke to allow the man to bring his cake grievance directly to the captain. Then again, maybe Robert merely wanted to show how unhinged the crew was becoming. Either way, the captain made a mental note to have a talk with his first officer later.

When Jonathan had told the specialist that no, there was nothing he could do about the cake, the petty officer third class accused Jonathan of eating the pieces. Incredulous, it was at that point that Jonathan had summarily told the man to leave his office or face charges.

At the start of the mission he would have laughed off a silly accusation like that. These days, his temper was running extremely short. The same was true with most of the crew, he was sure.

Odd behavior was becoming the new normal throughout the ship. Crew members flaunted previously hidden eccentricities, of which the baking of cakes was but one among a string of peculiar behaviors.

Robert had developed a strange addiction to three-dimensional combination puzzles. The commander had shown Jonathan his latest challenge—a cube whose faces were divided into seven by seven “cubelets”—small colored squares that could be rotated horizontally or vertically in groups. The cubelets were scrambled, and the goal was to line up all the pieces so that each face had a single solid color. During quiet times, Robert could often be found with his hands floating in front of him, twisting invisible cubelets that only his eyes could see. Jonathan’s irritation grew until he finally couldn’t take it, and politely told Robert to please refrain from doing that on the bridge, as it was distracting. Robert ceased the hand motions, but Jonathan could tell from the commander’s eye movements that Robert had merely disabled the finger interface, and was relying on his eye movements to manipulate the puzzle instead.

Then there was Ensign Lewis. She had shown up one day with butterfly images hennaed to the top of either hand. The ops officer had obviously created the designs herself, judging from the rather simple nature of the work: a few scribbles representing the wings and the body. But she seemed extremely happy with the work, and whenever she saw the envious glances the bridge crew shot her way she sat a little straighter. Jonathan thought it was a terrible idea to besmirch one’s skin like that, but he didn’t say anything.

The next day, other bridge crew arrived with hand tattoos of their own. Miko had an elaborate Japanese butterfly painted onto his right hand, with its larval form on his left hand. Vargas, the helmsman, had taken the idea further, inking his skin from wrists to fingertips in a complex series of bolts and rivets to create super-realistic robotic butterflies. Lewis set about her work with a pout for most of the morning, her designs seeming very simplistic in comparison to the other officers. When she came in the next day, her henna tattoos were scrubbed clean.

Miko’s eccentric behavior wasn’t restricted to the tattoos. Each night the tactical officer vanished in his shared stateroom after his duty shift, and wouldn’t be seen again until the next watch. Jonathan found out from his bunk mate that Miko was composing his latest symphony. Jonathan asked Miko about it, and the tactical officer promised to play it for the crew when he was done. A few weeks later, he presented the work to Jonathan and the bridge crew during a private performance one evening: it proved a cacophony of ill-timed instruments and screeching melodies.

Lazur became obsessed with crafting the perfect whiskey, and like Miko, simply vanished outside duty hours. A few months later the comm officer rushed unannounced to Jonathan’s office carrying a bottle representing the culmination of his efforts, along with two shot glasses.

“I’m going to be rich!” Lazur exclaimed. “The distilleries are going to pay me top dollar to license my formula!”

“Indeed?” Jonathan said.

“Here, have a taste!” Lazur gingerly poured two glasses, seeming terrified of spilling the smallest drop. He offered one of the glasses to the captain.

Jonathan accepted, and eyed the foul-smelling liquid uneasily.

“Cheers!” Lazur clinked his glass with the captain’s, then downed his drink with a quick flick.

Jonathan took a tentative sip. He nearly gagged. It had to be the worst alcoholic beverage he’d ever tried.

“A bit dry?” Lazur asked.

“Just a bit,” the captain said.

Even Jonathan wasn’t immune to the strange behavior. He spent long sessions in VR conversing to an AI-controlled facsimile of young Bridgette. There really was no need. He and Bridgette were friends in real life—at least they had been at one point—so Jonathan could have tapped her in for a live conversation at any time. But the rules of social decorum frowned upon one man spending too much alone time with another’s wife, so he relied on VR to live out the dream, pretending that she was his wife, not Robert’s.

It was only when he bumped into the actual Bridgette in a passageway near hydroponics that he snapped out of his spell. She smiled that fake smile at him, and they talked for a few short minutes before he excused himself. He realized he loved the woman who Bridgette once was, not the woman she was today. And it was not merely her youthful looks that he missed, but her vivacious spirit, and the joie de vivre that seemed so lacking in her of late. He supposed raising a child was trying work.

But there was something else about the feelings he once had for her. A hidden aspect of his psyche that he rarely acknowledged. The young Bridgette looked almost exactly like Famina, the woman whom Jonathan had abandoned to die on a mountaintop so long ago. He had tried to rescue that woman, but in order to save himself he had been forced to let her go. Was his attraction to Famina’s lookalike—Bridgette—some sort of compensation for what he had done? Perhaps an attempt to heal his conscience? Or something darker?

Yes, Jonathan was not immune to the strange behaviors and thoughts. Like everyone else aboard, he couldn’t wait until the return Gate was done so that the battle group could begin the voyage home. They had been out there too long. The aforementioned eccentricities were surfacing because the crew had remained in deep space for over two and a half years now. At least Jonathan had had a chance to return to a space port at one point, but the Callaway and the survivors of Task Group 72.5 had been out there since the original mission to Vega 951.

He and everyone else aboard just wanted to return to United Systems territory for some much needed leave, to forget about this mission and what they had done. They had destroyed an entire alien homeworld. A natural, unterraformed world at that. The conditions required to create a planet that was perfect for life were so rare in this galaxy that it was truly a tragedy what the battle group had done. Needless to say, no one was happy about it.

Well, that wasn’t true. There were a few die-hard xenophobes who were pleased as could be. Their counterparts higher-up in the navy would be jovial as well when the news arrived that the Raakarr were no longer a threat. Or rather, that the Elk faction of the Raakarr were no longer a threat. Who could say how many Zarafe were still out there? Valor, leader apparent of the Zarafe, claimed the Zarafe populations had numbered only a tenth of the Elk, with their population mostly relegated to colonies spread along the outskirts of Raakarr space, far away from the Slipstreams that connected to human territory. But Valor might very well have been lying about the numbers. And even if Valor spoke truly, now that the Elk were defeated, the Zarafe were set to become the dominant members of their species. No longer would they have to suffer the second-class planets the Elk deigned to give them, but could pick and choose from among the best for their people. Ten, twenty years down the road, humans might be facing war once again with the Raakarr, though this time with the Zarafe faction.

Jonathan sighed. Never ends, does it?

He thought of what Valor had admitted recently. Apparently, about eight hundred million Zarafe had resided on the homeworld, too, though the population had been segregated from the Elk, and most lived in abject poverty. Their loss had been seen as a necessary sacrifice by the space-based Zarafe.

Eight hundred million of their own brothers and sisters.

A cold species. If they were ready to sacrifice so many of their own to consolidate power within their species, who could say what else they were willing to do to expand that power. It was a very good thing that the United Systems hadn’t given them any planet killers.

Even so, the United Systems was certainly going to take some major flak from the other spacefaring governments for its foreign policy when it was discovered what the battle group had done to the homeworld. Dealing with the political fallout wasn’t going to be fun—there would probably be a few resignations among the senior command. Jonathan was worried he was going to be made a scapegoat for what happened. He had been the one in direct command of the Talon after all, the alien vessel that had harbored the Zarafe crew during the mission. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Vice Admiral Levieson had put the Talon under Jonathan’s command specifically so that the vice admiral and Admiral Ford could escape culpability in case things went south.

Not that Jonathan cared all that much. In fact he was happy to take the fall, for the most part. The only problem was that he didn’t want to spend the next ten years rotting in a military prison, trapped in the “rehabilitation program” of a VR pod. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to work for a navy that went about destroying the homeworld of every alien species it had a disagreement with.

Though to be fair, the battle group had no idea they were bombing a homeworld. The Zarafe had deceived them, telling the fleet it was merely a colony world of five million inhabitants. Valor claimed the telepath Barrick had misunderstood him, and insisted that he had told humanity the colony was the Elk homeworld from the very beginning. He went on to assure Jonathan that humanity would not regret eliminating the Elk home planet, and claimed that the Elk were a race of warmongers who would have attacked Earth if left unchecked anyway. The assertion echoed what Barrick had told Jonathan privately. He wasn’t sure he believed either one of them.

Jonathan folded his hands on the desk and gazed at the false portal of stars generated by his aReal on the bulkhead of his office. He accessed the menu system for the portal and dropped in an image of Earth as viewed from orbit. He shook his head. Ordinarily the sight would have relaxed him. Instead it only intensified his guilt.

How can I ever look at my homeworld the same way again, after what we did to the Raakarr?

three

Jonathan quickly dismissed the planet from the augmented reality overlay. He wanted to end this mission and go home so very badly, and yet he felt he did not deserve to. He wouldn’t force his feelings onto the rest of the crew of course. When the opportunity to return came, he wouldn’t turn it down.

He accessed aft external camera A19 and deep space filled his vision. He rotated the view until he found the thin, flat circle he was looking for. A bite seemed taken out of the upper right so that it reminded him of a woman’s earring. That circle would be the return Gate to Raakarr-1. Near the gap resided the boxlike vessel of the Builder, which was laying the foundation for the final portion. At about ninety-five percent complete, the Gate would be finished in another week and a half.

At that point, the fleet would reestablish contact with NAVCENT. Because the aliens had technology that allowed them to traverse Slipstreams without Gates, about two weeks after the Elk homeworld had fallen, the admiral had dispatched a team via the Talon to Raakarr-1 to update NAVCENT. The team had returned shortly thereafter and shared the congratulations from Central Command along with a statement from the commander-in-chief expressing regret regarding the loss of the Elk homeworld.

During the many months since then, the Zarafe had sent scouts back and forth between the current system, Raakarr-2, and the adjacent Raakarr-1 to receive updates from reprogrammed alien fighters left behind in Raakarr-1 and the neighboring Vega 951 system. Although the fighters could not communicate with the human ships, all seemed well in those adjacent systems, and no further Raakarr attacks had come from the 3-Vega Slipstream in Vega 951.

Assuming of course that the information provided by the Zarafe was accurate.

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to believe. The reports were probably true. Still, a part of him feared what Barrick had told him after the battle group had destroyed the Elk homeworld. “The safety of the Earth is still gravely at stake.”

Maybe the telepath is wrong. Barrick already admitted he can’t see the future with absolute certainty, not anymore. So many paths have changed.

But then again, the telepath also said that there were certain key waypoints that were unavoidable, and that humanity was marching inexorably toward one of them at the moment.

What if the Zarafe had staged a surprise attack on Earth while much of the United Systems fleet was out there dealing with the Elk? He wouldn’t put such treachery past the aliens. Or what if the Sino-Koreans had planned some sort of attack or uprising? Neither scenario would have surprised Jonathan at that point.

He shook his head. The captain could speculate until he was blue in the face. It wouldn’t help matters. They would know for certain in a week and a half, he supposed. He had urged the admiral to send a team via the Talon so that the fleet could confirm matters for themselves, and she had done so. But oddly enough, when the team had returned, the admiral had refused to answer any more of his calls: an automated message told him to address all inquiries to the vice admiral. When Jonathan had done so, Levieson had assured him that everything was fine.

Jonathan sighed. Perhaps he was being overly suspicious.

He swiveled the camera, taking in the clusters of ships orbiting near the Gate. He saw the seventy-five United Systems starships, the survivors of the hundred-plus battle group that had taken on over two thousand alien vessels and thirty-five hundred of their fighters, and won. The Zarafe had helped immensely, of course, with their malware injection that had temporarily disabled the enemy fleet. But it was a few brave MOTHs and some quick thinking on Jonathan’s part that had seen the mission through to completion.

He steered the camera past the United Systems fleet to the fierce-looking alien ships that were now part of the battle group’s ranks, all sharp points and burnished hulls. The admiral had appropriated thirty vessels from the ranks of the conquered aliens to form an “honor guard” for the human fleet. The ships included twelve that had been in orbit above the homeworld and had escaped the calamitous expulsion of the crust. The remainder were gleaned from the other colonized moons that revolved around the common ice giant shared by every natural satellite in the system, including the former homeworld.

The Zarafe crewed twenty-five of those alien ships, the other five were manned by Elk, as per the rough treaty ironed out between the Elk, Zarafe, and the representatives of the United Systems. The ship classes included five capital variants, five pyramids, five Reach classes, five lasers, and ten darts. The Elk were given control of five of the dart ships, which showed how little the Zarafe regarded them, since those were the weakest vessels of the bunch. Distrust no doubt also factored into their decision.

He switched to forward facing camera F3 and had the local AI of his aReal direct the view toward the recorded position of El-Rak IV, fourth colonized moon of the ice giant. At ten million inhabitants, El-Rak IV was the most populous of the alien colony worlds orbiting the ice giant, and contained the greatest number of surviving Elk. After the loss of the homeworld, the Zarafe had annexed the third moon and its colony for themselves, forcing the Elk majority to leave the colony for the fourth moon. At least a million had migrated over the span of a few months, with ferry ships in constant operation between the two. Colony IV’s infrastructure was probably stretched to the limits given the relatively massive influx in such a short amount of time.

Jonathan zoomed in on El-Rak IV and could see the bright white dots scintillating in orbit above the colony. Some of those would be the artificial satellites that generated the magnetosphere, others the giant mirrors that diverted light from the four stars to the surface. Several more would be Raakarr vessels in orbit, their metallic, burnished faces glistening in the sunlight. The Zarafe were in control of most of those ships, using Zarafe draftees and volunteers gathered from the different colony worlds.

There was a total of about four hundred alien ships in orbit, keeping the Elk populace below in check. In addition to those that had lived there or migrated from the third moon, many more had come in the months since the destruction of the homeworld, Elk vessels steadily arriving from the two Slipstreams 2-Vac and 3-Vac on the far side of the system. All incoming Raakarr ships were summarily instructed to proceed to the fourth moon of the ice giant with Zarafe-manned escorts. Once there, the Elk personnel were forced to transfer to the surface, and a Zarafe crew assumed control.

It was a precarious political situation. When a small minority ruled over a vast majority, war and upheaval were the usual outcomes, as illustrated by several examples throughout human history. Then again, these were not human beings. Their thinking was alien, as was their culture. Perhaps they would readily submit to their conquerers.

Somehow, Jonathan doubted it.

The preliminary treaty the United Systems representatives had negotiated essentially divvied up the spoils of war between the victors. To the Zarafe went ninety-percent of the prime colonies formerly owned by the Elk, along with eighty percent of the Elk navy. The treaty granted the United Systems ownership of the adjacent systems, Raakarr-1 and Vega 951, as well as the thirty alien ships of the honor guard. Two hundred Raakarr ships were to be delivered at a later date, along with the specifications for the Raakarr Slipstream traversal technology. Alien engineers were to be supplied to help with the incorporation of said tech, pending completion of the AI-assisted translation initiative under development by the liaison officer to the aliens, an Artificial named Wethersfield. The liaison officer was working remotely with scientists and linguists throughout the fleet to develop a workable solution that would eliminate the current reliance upon their sole translator, Barrick. 

The United Systems and the Raakarr agreed not to make any further incursions into the space of either side. To ensure compliance with the treaty, the United Systems was allowed to keep return Gates and a score of monitor starships at the two Slipstream endpoints that bordered Raakarr territory—this included the endpoint in Raakarr-2, and the as yet uncharted endpoint on the other side of 3-Vega in Vega 951. The Zarafe were granted permission to place similar monitoring units in those systems.

The Elk, as the losers of the war, agreed to all of this by default.

During the negotiations, the Zarafe had used their Slipstream traversal technology as a bargaining chip to gain control of the majority of the Elk territory and ships. They had flat-out refused to share their particle beam technology, and darkness generators, unless the United Systems taught them how to make planet killers. The United Systems representatives refused them that, thankfully.

The treaty was awaiting ratification from the United Systems government, of course. Somehow Jonathan doubted all the concessions the fleet representatives had made would be kept. The United Systems would want more territory and ships, in addition to the Slipstream traversal, particle beam, and darkness generator tech, and they would want it without giving up planet killers. He had no doubt the senior command would soon forget its guilt and remorse over destroying an alien homeworld in the rush to seize as many assets and as much weapons technology as possible, if only to outgun the Sino-Koreans and Russians.

Well, Jonathan thought. If anything, the days ahead will certainly be interesting.

four

The return Gate was completed in the expected week and a half timeframe. Two destroyers launched comm nodes in an attempt to reestablish the fleet’s connection with the United Systems InterGalNet. Those devices would pass in and out of the Slipstream throughout the day, exchanging data packets with the other comm nodes in the adjacent system, Raakarr-1. Some of the existing comm nodes in Raakarr-1 would be in orbit around the farther Slipstream, allowing them to travel between that system and Vega 951. Similar comm nodes existed throughout the systems controlled by humanity, and composed the much vaunted InterGalNet.

The comm nodes waiting in Raakarr-1 had a lot of data queued, and it would take a while before the contents were transferred in their entirety. To accelerate that process, the nodes would begin coming back in round robin fashion so that the fleet wouldn’t have to wait for all of it.

When the first of the comm nodes returned, packets began flowing into the Callaway’s local data cloud. The connection was good. The admiral would be sending her latest mission debriefing to NAVCENT, if she hadn’t already included it with the launch of the comm nodes.

Watching the network stats, and seeing the incoming traffic indicator skyrocket, Jonathan realized that everything was fine after all. He had worried needlessly all that time. Now if there had been no data, on the other hand, well then he would have worried.

He wondered if there would be some messages from the personnel department included in the incoming batch. The bridge crew was long overdue for some rank upgrades, after all. Ensign Lewis should be a junior-grade lieutenant. Lieutenant Miko should really be a lieutenant commander. And so forth.

Lieutenant Connie Myers tapped in a few hours later.

“Hello Lieutenant,” Jonathan said from his stateroom. He was reading an old classic on his hammock while the waves lapped against shore beside him, a virtual augmentation provided by his aReal glasses. It was a story about a man who took up mountain climbing to escape his demons.

Jonathan kept his attention glued to the book as he continued: “What can I do for you this fine afternoon?”

“The last of the queued InterGalNet packets arrived half an hour ago,” the chief scientist said.

Jonathan looked up from his book. “All right...”

“Did you notice anything abnormal about them?”

“No,” Jonathan said. He pulled up his inbox. After communications had been restored, the messages had slowly trickled in. He had already read them all: a few dinner requests and the like from old friends and organizations, nothing out of the ordinary. Standing out were the lack of notifications regarding rank upgrades among the bridge crew. He had begun to wonder if the latter was part of some elaborate punishment on the part of the personnel department for his near conviction by the martial court. But why punish those who served under him? 

The only odd message was from a reporter who had wanted to schedule an interview with him regarding the aliens. He wasn’t sure who had given the individual his name and contact information. Either way, Jonathan had resolved to ignore the request: he was a private man, and the last thing he needed at the moment was fame of any kind. Maybe when he retired he would look into writing a book or something, but right now he had to concentrate on his job. 

“Should I have?” Jonathan continued. “I don’t normally pay too much attention to the raw incoming data packets, other than to confirm that they’re actually coming in.”

“Well,” Connie said. “My network infrastructure manager pointed out that there was only about half the amount of queued data than was usual after being six months out of contact. I checked, and he was right.”

“Most of that data is new video and holographic messages from friends and loved ones back home, isn’t it?” Jonathan said. “As well as a few pending requests for the latest versions of any apps and vids that weren’t cached in the local cloud of the fleet.”

“Exactly right,” Connie said.

“Well, doesn’t the usage ebb and flow given the time of year?” Jonathan said. “Maybe we just caught it during an ebb period.”

“Actually, no,” Connie said. “It’s fairly consistent month to month, with only a slight increase around major holidays.”

“So what do you think is going on then?” Jonathan said. “You wouldn’t have gotten in touch with me unless you had a theory, at the very least. Is there something wrong with the comm nodes aboard the Callaway?”

“I checked with my colleagues on several other ships,” Connie said. “They noticed the same pattern. After obtaining approval from Commander Cray, I had the network infrastructure manager load the metadata into his favorite Big Data toolset. He quickly realized something strange was going on with the timestamps.”

“Something strange...” Jonathan prodded her.

“Yes. It’s curious. We have continued to receive a few messages from members of the fleet stationed in all the neighboring systems up to and including Vega 951, but any incoming data tagged with an origin from the systems beyond, including Earth, ceased on the same day three months ago. It’s like everyone back home just suddenly stopped communicating. And by the way, the few messages we did get from the vessels in Raakarr-1 and Vega 951 are marked as classified, with senior officers as the destination. It looks like someone ordered a message embargo.”

Jonathan sat up. “Well that’s disturbing. What do you make of it?” He double-checked his inbox in case he might have missed something. Nope: there definitely wasn’t anything marked classified, and he hadn’t received any messages from ships stationed in Raakarr-1 or Vega 951.

I’ve been kept out of the loop.

“Well, there’s obviously some bottleneck at Prius 3,” Connie said. “And if there really is a message embargo, whatever is causing the bottleneck can’t be good. Then again, I suppose it’s possible that it could be something as simple as the comm nodes malfunctioning.”

“All three at once?” Jonathan told her. “An outage like that, and the fleet’s repair drones would have been all over it.”

“An intense solar storm in one of the systems could definitely cause all three to go down,” Connie insisted.

“Sure,” Jonathan told her. “But if it was a solar storm, I doubt the remaining ships in Raakarr-1 and Vega 951 would have issued a message embargo.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Connie said. “I’ve sent messages to colleagues stationed aboard ships in the neighboring systems, but I won’t be hearing from them until the embargo is lifted. I’ve also tried to send a few messages to more distant colleagues based in Beta Ursae Majoris and even Earth, but I’m doubtful I’ll hear from them at all, given our findings.”

“Thank you for bringing this to me, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said. “Let me know if you discover anything else.”

He tapped out. Since captains weren’t usually included in any communication embargoes, he sent a few quick messages of his own to colleagues stationed in adjacent systems. It would probably be eight to sixteen hours before he heard from them.

Afterward he summoned the holograms of Robert and Miko to discuss theories with them, and included the Callaway’s AI, Maxwell, in the conversation.

The first thing Robert said when he heard the news, was: “Looks like it’s time to pay the piper for what we’ve done.”

The comment put a damper on the whole discussion.

About ten minutes into the session the captain received an alert from Admiral Ford.

“Well, men,” Jonathan told the holograms. “It looks like we’ll be finding out what’s going on shortly. I just got a notification from Admiral Ford that there will be an emergency captain’s conference in thirty minutes.”

five

Thirty minutes later Jonathan found himself seated around a virtual conference room table with the other seventy-five captains of the fleet.

Admiral Ford stood at the head of the table.

“As the more investigative among you may have noticed,” Admiral Ford said. “As of three months ago, all communications with any systems beyond Vega 951 were lost. I received the news shortly after it happened, via a one-way comm node dispatched here by the battle group in Raakarr-1, but decided it was best not to share the news and needlessly alarm the fleet. I assumed it was merely a solar storm of some kind, affecting the comm nodes somewhere along the InterGalNet route between Vega 951 and Earth. I assumed it would clear up in a few weeks, and that we would have reestablished contact by now. I was wrong. I’ve received the queued status updates sent by the battle groups stationed in Raakarr-1 and Vega 951 since then, and they paint a disturbing picture of what has happened. 

“Three months ago, the comm nodes stationed at Contessa Gate in Vega 951 ceased passing through the Slipstream into the adjacent system, Prius 3. The fleet stationed in Vega 951 thought it was a malfunction at first, but after some investigation they determined that the comm nodes had detected a change in gravimetric fluctuations.” That usually meant a return Gate no longer existed on the other side—failsafes aboard the comm nodes prevented traversal under such conditions.

For existing Gates, any gravimetric changes could be detected almost immediately. But for brand new Gates, it could take up to a week to determine whether a return Gate existed as there was no baseline of gravimetric fluctuations to measure against. That was why the Builder with Task Group 72.5 had no time to detect a return Gate after constructing the original Contessa; enemy reinforcements had been bearing down on them, and Jonathan had given the order to pass through anyway, bringing the task group to the Elder galaxy.

“The captain of the destroyer flotilla stationed at Contessa ordered the comm nodes sent through anyway,” Ford continued. “The devices did not come back. The captain launched more, along with some telemetry drones: again, nothing returned. It became fairly obvious that the gravimetric readings were accurate. The return Gate was gone.” She ran her gaze across the assembled captains. “As you all know, Gates don’t just disappear on their own. Either the guard units stationed at the endpoint saw a reason to move the Gate and for some reason chose not to warn us. Or the return Gate was destroyed.”

“It’s also possible the Elder changed the endpoint on us again,” Jonathan said.

“It is certainly possible,” Ford agreed. “Though I believe the chances are slim, given the events leading up to the disappearance of the Gate. You see, when the flotilla stationed at Contessa reviewed the comm node logs, they discovered the devices had picked up several anomalies before the event. Four hours earlier, while in Prius 3 to receive the latest data packets, the comm nodes recorded a heat signature moving away from the third, main sun, a heat signature that had up until that point gone unnoticed, hidden as it was in the thermal wash of the star. This coincides with a transmission sent by the Prius 3 fleet, whose commanding officer stated they were dispatching ships to investigate.

“When the nodes passed into Prius 3 again two hours later, the heat signature was halfway to the incoming ships. More heat signatures had appeared, these ones apparently sourced from the original. One of those new signatures seemed to be on a direct course for the Gate to Vega 951, whose Slipstream happened to be passing near the third sun at the time. Also, more urgent communications were received by the Prius 3 fleet, stating that they were under attack. 

“The comm nodes departed back to Vega 951, and that was the last snapshot we have of the system before the event. We did get a visual of the craft associated with the heat signature that was headed toward the Gate. Have a look.”

A cigar-shaped object floated in the center of the conference table, where it slowly rotated. Smaller rods of varying lengths extended from the flat front, giving it an industrial appearance.

Jonathan spoke up. “I’ve seen this before.”

“You have,” Admiral Ford agreed. “It matches the projectile recorded by the Callaway during its encounter with the unidentified ship in the Elder galaxy.”

“Did we get a visual on the original object that emerged from the thermal wash of the star?” another captain asked.

Ford nodded. Another object appeared. Blurry, because of the range. It was close to a United Systems corvette in appearance, though its hull seemed all dents and hard angles as if it had taken a good beating. The left and right wing shapes didn’t match exactly, giving the impression that it was put together from parts of different ships.

“It’s the scavenger ship,” Jonathan said. That was what Jonathan and Robert had taken to calling the unidentified vessel that had destroyed the Builder in the Elder galaxy—it did look like it was scavenged from other ships, after all. Not that the overall shape really mattered in any way, of course: a sleek, aerodynamic craft would have the same acceleration graph as a square plane in space.

“It appears to be the same ship, yes,” Ford said. “When the heat signature and image are passed through our recognition database, we get a ninety-five percent probability that it is the very same ship the Callaway encountered, and a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that it is the same ship class.”

“So we’ve got a rogue alien vessel run amok in our galaxy.” Jonathan tapped his lips. “You know that ship completely obliterated Task Group’s 72.5 Builder vessel in the Elder galaxy, right? And when I say completely obliterated, I mean it. That weapon disintegrated the Builder into its constituent hydrogen atoms.”

“I know quite well,” Ford said. “I debriefed Commander Cray myself. The same obliteration is very likely what happened to our return Gate in Prius 3.”

“The scavenger hasn’t been spotted by the fleets residing in Raakarr-1 or Vega 951?” Captain Rail asked. She looked her usual grumpy self. Though Jonathan supposed she was happy to be back in command of the Salvador. Not that she would ever show it.

“There has been no sign of the vessel in Raakarr-1 or Vega 951 since communications were lost three months ago,” the admiral said. “Either it has been destroyed, or it is wreaking havoc in the adjacent systems.”

“How could it have escaped unnoticed all that time?” Captain Bane said. The young captain who had performed well during the planet killer operation looked extremely tired. Like many of those present, he bore the outward signs of a conscience that didn’t take too well to what the battle group had done to the Raakarr homeworld. “Unless they have stealth measures beyond our ability, surely some of our sensors would have picked the craft up before it hid in the thermal wash of the Prius 3 sun?”

“Not if it traveled to Prius 3 shortly after the Raakarr incursion,” the admiral said. “And sometime after Captain Dallas passed through the system when he first returned to our galaxy while aboard the Talon. Based on the date of the attack in the Elder galaxy as reported by Commander Cray, the timeframes do match. After moving into place, it simply lay in wait, hiding in the thermal wash of the third star, while our exploratory fleet arrived and began construction of the return Gate. It took a year and a half for that Gate to pass within its closest point of the third sun, and it was at that point they chose to strike.”

Jonathan and Robert had once speculated that the scavenger may have been hiding in the thermal wash of the Vega 951 star. It seemed they had picked the wrong system.

“For an object of that size to hide in the thermal wash of a star,” a captain said. “And still escape the gravitational pull... well, let’s just say it would require some efficient engines.”

“It would,” Ford agreed. “They’re definitely more technologically advanced than the United Systems, and even the Raakarr.”

“So what are we going to do?” Captain Rail asked.

“We could wait,” Captain Bane said. “If the fleet drove off or destroyed the scavenger, they would have started reconstructing the return Gate. It should be ready in three or four months.”

Ford nodded slowly. “We could wait, yes. But we have no reason to. We have completed our mission here. We will deploy the necessary ships in Raakarr-2 to enforce our treaty with the Elk, and the rest of us will return. If the scavenger has not been destroyed, it is our duty to render what assistance we can to the United Systems vessels in the region. Restoring communications with NAVCENT is our highest priority at the moment.”

“Maybe we should get the Raakarr to loan us more ships,” Bane said. “Just in case.”

“How many?” Ford asked. “Ten ships? Thirty? Do you really trust our newfound alien allies enough to allow them to outnumber us?” When Bane didn’t reply, she nodded. “I didn’t think so. At oh eight hundred tomorrow morning the fleet, in its existing form, will commence traversal through the Gate to Raakarr-1.”

six

At 0800 the battle group left behind twenty destroyers in Raakarr-2 to guard the return Gate as per the treaty agreement, and then its members proceeded through into Raakarr-1 four at a time.

The Callaway accelerated into the gravitational distortion of the Gate when its turn came, passing into the neighboring system. ‘Neighboring’ might not be the best term, given that in actuality the systems were forty-eight light years apart. That was why when talking about Gates and Slipstreams, one usually said a given destination was one or more “jumps” away, because the involved vessels literally jumped between systems when they traversed a wormhole.

Jonathan had the view from the forward camera piped into his aReal so he immediately saw the ring of destroyers waiting on the other side, guarding the destination Gate. According to the tactical display, several mines also resided there, in the form of smart nukes; the devices had been moved aside for the occasion. Hopefully someone had programmed them to ignore the thirty Raakarr vessels that were due to arrive or some unpleasantness would ensue. There shouldn’t be any issues, given that scouts in the form of alien fighters and dart ships had been passing back and forth between the two systems since the Gate construction began in Raakarr-2 six months ago.

After the fifty-five ships of the main battle group arrived, the Raakarr vessels began to emerge. The Raptor was their de facto flagship, responsible for coordinating with the captains of the thirty Raakarr vessels to ensure the admiral’s orders were carried out. Or more precisely, Jonathan’s orders, as the Raptor was placed directly under his command, alongside the survivors of Task Group 72.5 that had been absorbed into the battle group.

The Raptor belonged to the powerful pyramid class of alien warships. It was essentially a supercarrier, as it harbored forty alien fighters aboard. It also had four particle beam generators, placed at the ends of long stilts that extended from the bottom corners of the pyramid shape. The Raptor was commanded by the leader of the Zarafe, Valor; also aboard was the telepath Barrick and the United Systems liaison officer Wethersfield. At Valor’s request, the three of them had transferred from their old ship, the Talon, along with many of the alien crew, shortly after the destruction of the homeworld and the subsequent surrender of the Elk. Valor had desired a ship more “suiting” to his lofty station, while Admiral Ford simply wanted something that would afford greater protection to those individuals who currently provided the sole communications link between the United Systems and the Zarafe.

The comm nodes that facilitated those communications were also transferred from the Talon, of course, along with the backup United Systems telemetry drones that Wethersfield could launch from the Raptor as necessary to boost signal range with the fleet.

On the tactical display, the incoming alien craft were marked a lighter shade of blue than the other friendlies. The United Systems mines remained inactive. Good.

Still, as he watched those Raakarr vessels emerge, Jonathan couldn’t help a lingering sense of unease. He wasn’t completely comfortable allowing so many alien ships into the battle group, especially those manned by the Elk. If any of those ships were to turn on them, while the United Systems vessels still outnumbered them almost two to one, casualties would be high, especially if the treachery occurred while the fleet was in the middle of repelling a different attack, say against the scavenger vessel. Of course, only five of the enemy craft were actually crewed by Elk, while the remainder were Zarafe. Given that the two factions hated each other, it was highly unlikely both would turn against the battle group at the same time. It would either be one or the other, with the Elk faction probably the more inclined to betrayal. Yes, it was very good they only had five ships.   

After rendezvousing with the United Systems fleet in Raakarr-1, the human ships spent some time restocking their non-renewable weapon inventories. The human portions of the battle group had already replenished their mortars and slug supplies in the previous system, but nukes and kinetic kill missiles were in short supply, as were some key elements needed for repairs.

After partially remedying their weapon situation, the battle group proceeded toward the further Slipstream, crossing Raakarr-1. Jonathan supposed the system was going to need a new name soon, given the intention of the United Systems to permanently annex that territory from the Raakarr.

It took a week to reach the Gate. They further restocked their supplies via the waiting destroyers, and then passed through in fours into Vega 951, where the human and alien fleet was greeted by another ring of destroyers and currently inactive smart nukes. The ships in Vega 951 had no news to report.

The battle group spent a week and a half crossing the system toward Contessa Gate. On the way, they passed near 3-Vega, which led to uncharted Raakarr space. It was still mined and guarded by United Systems warships. No Gate was being built there yet, Jonathan noted. According to the local fleet, no raiding parties had emerged from it since the Elk homeworld fell.

When the battle group was nearing the closest point of flyby with 3-Vega, Ensign Lewis abruptly spoke up from her position at the Round Table.

“The Raptor and the thirty ships under her have changed course,” Lewis said. “They’re breaking away from the fleet.”

“What?” Jonathan glanced at his comm officer. “Lazur, get me the Raptor. Ensign, what’s their heading?”

“They’re accelerating toward 3-Vega,” the ensign replied.

Vice Admiral Levieson tapped in. “Jonathan, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t order this,” Jonathan said. “I’m about to have a word with our liaison officer. I’ll get back to you momentarily, Vice Admiral.”

Both Wethersfield and Barrick were on the line a few seconds later.

“Hello Captain,” Wethersfield said. “I suppose you’re reaching out to me because of our unannounced break from formation?”

“Good guess,” Jonathan said. “What the hell is Valor doing? I want him back in formation immediately.”

“Barrick, would you be so kind...” Wethersfield transmitted.

An audible sigh came over the line, followed by Barrick’s voice. “Apparently, the alien fighters Valor left in front of 3-Vega to function as the Zarafe equivalents of comm nodes have reported some rather unfortunate events in Raakarr space.”

“I don’t care if the Zarafe homeworld is under attack,” Jonathan said. “I want them back in formation now.”

“Valor says he will only be a few days,” Barrick said. “You know of the Zarafe emissary ships that were launched throughout Raakarr space to share the news of the loss of the Elk homeworld and the resultant change in management? Well, some of those emissaries apparently ended up in the neighboring system beyond 3-Vega, and the Elk weren’t all that pleased with the news. The comm node equivalents report that the only thing left of the Zarafe ships in orbit around the Elk colony is debris. Meanwhile, ten Elk craft are flagrantly patrolling the system, obviously waiting for more messengers to arrive. Valor intends to punish them.”

“As mentioned, I don’t care,” Jonathan said. “Tell Valor that every last mortar and nuke launcher in the human fleet is targeting the Raptor. Tell him our Vipers are aimed at his ship, too. I think even you realize that although our heavy lasers have only begun charging, if all fifty-five ships combine their beams and fire at the same spot on the Raptor, the results won’t be pretty.” None of that was true, of course—the admiral would never risk destroying her one means of communication with the Raakarr, not to mention the loss of the alliance and the promised technology, but Jonathan was gambling that Valor wouldn’t call his bluff. It was up to him to keep the aliens under his command in line, and he would resort to whatever tactics were necessary to do so.

He waited several tense moments. Just when he thought he might have to involve the vice admiral, Ensign Lewis spoke.

“The alien fleet is decelerating,” the ensign said.

“In the interests of not causing a diplomatic incident,” Barrick said. “Valor has agreed to stand down. We are returning to formation.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said. “Tell him we’ll let him destroy all the Elk he wants to the next time we’re in the neighborhood.”

“I think it’s best if I don’t say anything to him for a while, actually,” Barrick said.

Jonathan tapped out, feeling a shred of pity for the man. The captain remembered all too well what it was like to be trapped aboard the alien vessel. He turned toward his comm officer. “Lazur, let the vice admiral know the situation has been resolved.”

A moment later Lazur replied: “The vice admiral sends his thanks.”

Jonathan exhaled gently. He was beginning to think the ‘honor’ of commanding the alien fleet was becoming a little bit more trouble than it was worth. Then again, if he was completely honest with himself, he kind of liked keeping the unruly aliens in line.

If being a captain wasn’t challenging, I would have never become one.

seven

When the fleet reached Contessa Gate, the destroyer guards clustered around it cleared a path for the Builder traveling with the battle group. The ship moved forward and compared the gravimetric fluctuations with those on record for the Slipstream, confirming that no return Gate existed on the other side in Prius 3.

Levieson tapped in. “Jonathan. We want the Raptor to launch one of its Slipstream-capable probes into Prius 3. Give us the lay of the land.”

“One lay of the land coming right up.” Jonathan relayed the order to Wethersfield, and a few minutes later Ensign Lewis reported an alien probe departing for Contessa Gate.

When it returned, Wethersfield tapped in. “Captain,” the Artificial sent. “The return Gate is definitely gone. Comm nodes are in place beyond the endpoint, as are three United Systems destroyers and a Builder. The latter is working on a new Gate. There are no other intact United Systems vessels, however the probe detected debris consistent with destroyer and supercarrier classes scattered throughout the system.”

“Debris?” Jonathan glanced at Robert. “That’s unexpected. Considering that the scavenger is purported to employ a disintegration weapon.”

“Apparently it’s not the only weapon they have,” the commander said. “Probably a good thing the fleet hadn’t begun reconstruction of any of the bases over there.”

“Probably,” Jonathan agreed. “Wethersfield, there is no debris for the return Gate?”

“Nothing,” Wethersfield said. “I should also mention, in regards to the debris, there is only enough for a handful of United System ships. Definitely not enough to account for the entire fleet that had remained behind in Prius 3.”

“Maybe they fled to Anvil Rappel,” Robert said. “Or were recalled before the attack.”

“Either that,” Jonathan said. “Or our scavenger decided to judiciously employ its disintegration weapon after all. Wethersfield, any sign of the scavenger ship?”

“Negative,” the Artificial replied. “However, and this is odd: the outgoing Gate remains intact.”

Jonathan thought aloud: “So we won’t have to wait six months to build a Gate to the next system.”

“No, we won’t,” Wethersfield said. “Though I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

Jonathan relayed the news to Levieson on a private line. When he finished, Levieson said: “The presence of the destroyers and Builder is consistent with what the local fleet has told us. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” the vice admiral continued. “The Vega 951 fleet sent through fifteen warships to explore Prius 3 after losing communications. The question is, where are the other twelve?”

When Jonathan mentioned the news to Robert, the first officer nodded.

“The Raptor reported the departure of those ships,” the commander said. “Remember? Via the alien scouts they left in Vega 951 and Raakarr-1.”

“I remember,” Jonathan said. “At the time, we assumed it was a routine recall. We should have had the alien scouts travel into Prius 3 with them.”

“Maybe,” Robert said. “Though how could we have known anything was wrong? Considering that the admiral didn’t share any news with us.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “That was a mistake on her part. But what I’m wondering is, why would the scavenger destroy the return Gate to Vega 951, but leave the outgoing Gate intact?”

“Maybe they forgot to destroy it?” Robert said.

“Doubtful,” Jonathan said. “More like, they want us to come.”

Robert nodded. “Saves them the hassle of having to return here and clean us up. Or it could be that they’re simply the self-righteous sort, and they’re trying to leave the Elk a path open to our homeworld. Give them a chance to take some old-fashioned revenge for what we’ve done, you know what I mean?”

“Could be,” Jonathan said. “We’ll never really know what goes on in the minds of those aliens will we?”

After a brief captain’s conference, the battle group traversed the Gate to Prius 3, leaving behind the existing destroyers to continue holding the system.

The four United Systems vessels waiting at the endpoint revealed they were indeed part of the exploratory party sent through from Vega 951. Even though an outgoing Gate provided access to the adjacent system, Anvil Rappel, the comm nodes in orbit there indicated a return Gate was not present on the other side. Two months ago, the twelve remaining destroyers that had been part of the exploratory fleet had passed through into Anvil Rappel to investigate. They hadn’t reported back. How could they, if it takes six months to build a return Gate?

The admiral told them that the vessels had apparently launched telemetry drones to map out Prius 3 and search for signs of the scavenger ship, or shipyards of any kind. Nothing was found.

The battle group continued forward, leaving the three existing ships to guard the Builder. It would be another three and a half months before the Gate back to Vega 951 was completed. Not that Jonathan expected to be returning this way anytime soon.

It took twelve days to cross the three-star system and reach the intact Gate to Anvil Rappel. Once more the Raptor dispatched advance probes through.

“We haven’t detected any active vessels whatsoever in Anvil Rappel,” Wethersfield reported when the probe returned. “We are, however, seeing debris from United Systems starships scattered throughout the system, in addition to the wreckages of several Asiatic Alliance craft floating above the former colony.”

That wasn’t entirely unexpected, considering that the binary star system was officially owned by the Asiatic Alliance, and members of their navy had been present to oversee the reconstruction of the colony the Raakarr had destroyed, though the last time Jonathan had passed through he hadn’t seen any indications that the rebuilding had begun.

“Once again,” Wethersfield said. “There is not enough debris to account for all the ships that should have been present.”

“What about the colony on Anvil Prime?” Jonathan asked.

“Completely lifeless,” Wethersfield said. “I don’t think rebuilding had started anyway.”

“The Gates?” Jonathan said.

“The outgoing Gate to Delta Avalon remains intact, but the return Gate to Prius 3 is gone,” Wethersfield said. “No debris.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert. “Is it possible the fleet moved the Gate?”

“They probably started to,” Robert said.

“You believe the scavenger destroyed it before they could finish?” Jonathan asked. “And then destroyed all other vessels in the system, or forced them to flee?”

“It would make sense, considering that the other Gate hasn’t been moved,” Robert replied. “Think about it. The scavenger ship wouldn’t have had to expend too much effort to destroy the Gate. Unlike the Raakarr, the scavengers have long range weapons: the atomizing projectiles. While the Raakarr, with their particle beams, would have had to go out of their way to destroy any ships towing away a Gate, the scavenger merely had to rotate its nose and launch a projectile, without even needing to change its course or speed.”

“I see your point,” Jonathan said. “And they’re still leaving the outgoing Gates intact. Kind of lends credence to the theory that they wish us to pursue them.”

“It does seem like they want us to follow,” Robert said. “Doesn’t it?”

Jonathan reported the news to Vice Admiral Levieson.

When that was done, he regarded the map of Anvil Rappel on his aReal. The system contained seventeen planets, some with thirty-two moons, and a wide-ranging asteroid belt.

“A lot of places to hide in that system,” Robert said.

“Indeed,” Jonathan agreed.

The battle group passed into Anvil Rappel and launched telemetry drones to scout the system. Meanwhile, the fleet made a direct run toward the outgoing Gate. Given that the Gate provided the only way to leave the system, if any overwhelming threats were detected, the battle group would likely flee toward the wormhole anyway.

The fleet reached the outgoing Gate and the Raptor launched a probe to scan Delta Avalon beyond. Like in Anvil Rappel, some United Systems starship debris was detected, and an outgoing Gate, but otherwise nothing else. The colony world was eclipsed, however, so its status proved inconclusive.

The battle group waited another week for the telemetry drones to complete their scan of the Anvil Rappel system. Nothing was found.

In Delta Avalon, much the same events transpired. The battle group crossed the system, heading first toward the gas giant that eclipsed the colony world, while the telemetry drones fanned out. As usual, the drones found nothing except for the wreckages of United Systems properties, just as the Raptor’s advance probe reported.

The original Raakarr incursion into human space had essentially ended at Delta Avalon. Before they were defeated, the Raakarr had completely razed the colony world Tau Delta Avalon VI. But the last time Jonathan had come this way, on the return trip to Vega 951 after his acquittal and subsequent reassignment, reconstruction of the colony had already begun. That would have been almost two years ago.

As the battle group neared the gas giant, it became apparent that the scavenger vessel had razed the colony on the nineteenth moon anew. The wreckage of orbital defense platforms floated above the moon, alongside debris from specialized Builders and warships. 

Connie tapped in from her lab as the Callaway flew within four hundred thousand kilometers from the moon.

“I’ve been reviewing the CDC data collection logs,” the chief scientist sent. The CDC stood for Combat Direction Center, a specialized operation room that processed all sensor data and supplied it to the ship’s information consumers. “There are two strange blast craters near the ruins of the settlement.”

“Strange?” Jonathan said. “In what way?”

“Well, ordinarily blast craters are shallow,” the lieutenant replied. “But these are about a kilometer deep, as if some sort of a drill or digger was launched into the surface. Even more telling, the craters reside in the exact same locations where the settlements had initiated mining operations.”

“You think the scavenger ship was mining the place for raw elements?” Jonathan asked. “Making a supply run?”

“That’s my suspicion,” Connie said. “Just as we mine asteroids to replenish our slugs and mortars. And it makes some sense, given the extent of damage we’ve seen. They would have had to renew their own stock of weapons at some point, and the raw materials have to come from somewhere.”

“And what about the settlement?” Jonathan asked. “Any signs of similar mining or other scavenging among the ruins?”

“No,” the lieutenant replied. “The rest of it is just flattened.”

Jonathan thanked Connie and then informed the vice admiral.

“My scientists have put forward similar theories,” Levieson replied. “Thank you for keeping me apprised.”

The fleet used the gas giant Delta Avalon VI as a gravitational slingshot toward the far side of the cepheid star, and proceeded toward the waiting Slipstream and its Gate. By then Jonathan was beginning to dread what they would find in the next system.

The battle group made a slight detour behind one of the terrestrials, as the star was nearing the end of its thirty-five day pulsation cycle, when the expelled gamma rays were at their highest. The hulls and inner bulkheads of the ships would have protected against most of it, but anti-rads would’ve had to be distributed to those who worked in the outer extremities of the vessels. To be on the safe side, and in accordance with regulations, the battle group waited out the four days when the rays were at their strongest. Incidentally, the powerful magnetosphere around the colony moon, plus the timing of its orbit around the gas giant, protected it from the worst of those rays. It was just too bad the magnetosphere couldn’t protect against aggressive aliens.

When they reached the Gate a week later, the Raptor’s advance scans of Beta Ursae Majoris confirmed their worst fears: the once populous system was completely dead. The probe detected several pieces of debris that included the wreckages of orbital platforms, stations, and starships above the third planet: the colony world Ares.

Etalon Station had once orbited there. That was where Jonathan had been held for his court martial. The station, and everything else in orbit, was no more. Additionally, the probe reported that the dome colony on the surface had been breached and destroyed, as had the three military bases. There were no signs of any survivors.

As usual, the Gate to the next system was intact, but there was no return Gate.

The invaders are funneling us toward our doom.

After Jonathan shared the results of the scan with the vice admiral, he extended his noise canceler around Robert.

“This is deeply troubling,” Jonathan told the commander. “While the loss of so much life is tragic, even worse is the implications: Beta Ursae Majoris was a major trade hub, with a relatively large military presence. If it couldn’t stand against the attacker, the chances of the subsequent systems, and of Earth itself holding out, are growing increasingly slim.”

“Do you think those fifteen destroyers that went ahead of us met their end in Beta Ursae Majoris?” Robert asked.

“It seems likely,” Jonathan said. “Either that, or in one of the next systems.”

Robert rubbed his earlobe. “We’re not far from Earth now...”

“No we’re not,” Jonathan said. “And that is perhaps the most troubling of all: Beta Ursae Majoris is only three jumps from Earth’s system.”

“It’s hard to believe that only one ship did all of this,” Robert said.

The battle group waited another four days for the telemetry drones to finish scanning the current system, Delta Avalon. They found nothing else.

As the fleet passed through into Beta Ursae Majoris, the dread was palpable among the crew, at least aboard the Callaway. Rumors had run rampant, and Jonathan had been forced to give a speech over the main circuit to calm everyone’s nerves, but he worried that he had only confirmed everyone’s worst fears.

He thought of the last few sentences he had said. “We’re making our way back to Earth. Communications are still down. So far, we haven’t made contact with any intact colonies. But have hope. We will find a way through this, no matter what dark days come.”

Dark days. When one thought about it, every day was dark in space.

But what about the stars? Even in the dark, there are a million pinpoints of light. Such will always be the case, where darkness lies.

But even the darkness between stars wasn’t complete, not truly. He considered Olbers’ Paradox. The argument that, given the infinitude of stars out there, there should be no part of the sky that did not glow with light. When one looked into space, there should be whiteness, not blackness.

But the paradox didn’t account for a universe that had a definitive start. An expanding universe, whose stars had only begun to ignite. When Jonathan gazed into space, he knew he was looking into the past, at the early universe, a time when there were no stars to speak of. The light from all the newborn suns birthed since then had yet to reach the Milky Way.

The light is yet to come.

The battle group launched the usual telemetry drones, and then began crossing toward the far Slipstream with its intact Gate. The system was a binary, with a yellow main-sequence and a blue subdwarf orbiting one another within fifty million kilometers. Several planets revolved around the combined center of mass of those stars. Three terrestrials composed the inner planets, five gas giants the outer, with an asteroid belt between the third and fourth giants. The giant just beyond the belt was about the same size as Jupiter, but at twelve times the mass, it was close to being a very low-mass brown dwarf, just below the threshold for deuterium fusion.

There was no reason to divert to the partially terraformed colony world—Ares wasn’t eclipsed by anything, and whenever the planet’s revolutions caused the dome colony and military bases to face the fleet, it was fairly obvious nothing was alive down there.

Four days into the journey, Jonathan got a call from the third watch ops station officer while he was reading in his stateroom.

“Captain,” the ops officer, Lieutenant (jg) Kylie Anderson, said. “We have contact.”

eight

Jonathan pulled on his khakis and hurried toward the bridge. He glanced at the tactical display on his aReal along the way.

A red dot had emerged from one of the planets roughly two million kilometers ahead and to the port side of the fleet. It was set to intercept the battle group in a million kilometers, about halfway to the outgoing Gate.

Jonathan was waiting for the order he knew was coming.

When he reached the bridge, Robert handed over command. On cue, Vice Admiral Levieson tapped in.

“Hello Jonathan,” Levieson said. “I take it you’ve noticed our interloper?”

“I have. Let me guess, you want the Raptor to attempt communications?”

“Excellent powers of clairvoyance,” Levieson replied. “There was some talk about withholding communications as per first contact procedures”—the vice admiral was referring to the belief among some xenologists that dispatching EM transmissions for the purposes of communications might be perceived as a hostile act by alien entities—”but it was decided the protocols don’t apply here, as this isn’t entirely a first contact situation. We’ve already attempted communications on all known bands. No response. Let’s see if the Raptor can do any better.”

Jonathan tapped in Barrick. “We need Valor to send a welcome message to that ship.”

A moment later Lieutenant (jg) Anderson reported the expected gamma wave transmission from the Raptor.

“Ops,” Jonathan said. “Give me a visual on that ship.”

The rotating image of the scavenger he had seen weeks ago during the captains’ conference overlaid his vision.

“Is this the same ship that attacked you in the Elder galaxy, Commander?” Jonathan asked his first officer. 

“That’s the one,” Robert confirmed.

Jonathan thrummed his fingers on the armrest. He extended his noise canceler about Robert. “This one vessel took out every ship between here and Prius 3?”

“That would seem to be the case,” Robert replied.

“Why didn’t it eliminate the Callaway and the rest of Task Group 72.5 in the Elder galaxy then?” Jonathan asked. “If it took out a hundred ships between here and Prius 3, those five ships would have been nothing.”

“They might have been afraid,” Robert replied. “Unsure of our capabilities. When encountering a new space-faring species, you can never really tell what their defenses and armaments might be. Sure, you can guess I suppose. But you never really know until you engage them in combat.”

Jonathan nodded. “So they waited in the thermal wash of the Prius 3 star, watching, observing, gauging our abilities. And then when we did something to trigger them, they attacked.”

“Like destroying the Raakarr homeworld?” Robert asked.

“Something like that would probably do it,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan glanced at his tactical display. By then the gamma ray communications beam would have reached the enemy ship.

He repealed his noise canceler.

“Ops,” Jonathan said. “Have you detected a response of any kind yet?”

“No response has been tendered,” Anderson replied.

“Well,” Jonathan said. “Either they can’t understand us, or they don’t want to.”

“Probably the latter,” Robert said.

The admiral tapped in fleet-wide a few moments later.

“Captains,” Admiral Ford said. “We have contact with a target matching the description of the ‘scavenger’ vessel first identified in Prius 3. Our communication requests have been refused. The target is on an intercept course with our fleet. We have to assume their intentions are unfriendly. I’m transmitting new trajectory vectors now. Please forward them to your helmsmen and engage. I’ve scheduled an emergency conference at twenty hundred hours. See you all there.”

The captain relayed the new course vectors to Miko, who would see to it that the Raptor and those other ships under Jonathan’s command would receive them. On the tactical display, he watched the dotted line representing the course of the overall fleet update to give the red dot a wide berth. That only delayed the inevitable intersection of their trajectory with that of the enemy by a couple of hours.

In thirty minutes he was in his office adjacent to the bridge, and immersed in a virtual conference.

As usual, the admiral was on her feet at the head of the table. She paced back and forth, as she was wont to do before a battle. Her fatigues were buttoned up at the neck, just like Jonathan’s own. He never went into battle with his collar unbuttoned. Neither did she, apparently.

He was struck, as he often was, by her youthful appearance. She was seventy-five, but the rejuvenation treatments gave her the look of a thirty-year-old. She wore her thick strands of hair in a bob. Some might have called her beautiful, or at least handsome, though hers was a detached sort of beauty, something best admired from afar: if she sensed even a modicum of disrespect in you, toward her or her station, the chewing out would be painful. Jonathan had heard she liked to practice mixed martial arts, and apparently often sparred with members of her crew. If she had a bone to pick with someone aboard the same ship, he had a feeling she would invite them to the sparring mat for a firsthand taste of her disciplinary style.

“While I’m disinclined to believe that this one vessel eliminated all of the United Systems craft and bases between here and Prius 3,” the admiral said. “There doesn’t seem to be any other explanation at the moment. We’ll have to assume this vessel is extremely dangerous, and likely still armed to the teeth. Scans report no signs of damage. We are aware of two of her weapons. The first, the ‘disintegration bomb’—for lack of a better term—reported by the Callaway. The second, a concentrated gravitational wave, used to carve a hull piece from a former Builder belonging to the Callaway’s task unit. Our best guess is that the latter is a relatively short range weapon, and the former of the long range variety. The vessel very likely possesses other armaments... you’ve all seen the debris.”

She stopped pacing to run her gaze across the assembled captains. Then she sighed, rested her hands on the table, and leaned across the virtual cherrywood toward the gathered officers. “This is what we’re going to do.”

She explained her plan. It was good, Jonathan had to admit. The best they had, given the circumstances. And it was a bit of a leap of faith, too, given how big a part it gave the Raakarr to play.

“Are we certain our alien allies will follow through on their orders?” Captain Bane asked.

“If they don’t, this will be a very, very short alliance,” Ford said. “They’ll certainly be tempted to flee. Captain Dallas, it’s your job to see that they don’t.”

“I’ll keep them in line,” Jonathan said. “One way or another.”

Though he projected confidence, he knew that given the distances involved, it was doubtful he’d be able to threaten Valor with any real force. He would need another way to ensure obedience.

“Admiral,” Jonathan said. “I think it would be in our best interests for the Raptor to remain with the United Systems fleet at all times during the coming battle.”

The admiral nodded. “Good idea. Valor will be less liable to misbehave if he knows he has fifty-five laser banks targeting him. If there are no other suggestions, you are all dismissed.”

JONATHAN WAS CALLED to the bridge an hour before the planned flyby. He took his place at the Round Table. The first watch bridge crew was present.

He glanced at his tactical display. As expected, twenty-four Raakarr vessels had pulled away from the main fleet. Traveling at their maximum speed, the Raakarr led by a hundred thousand kilometers. The display labeled them R2. The three laser ships with them had already separated into their five respective segments, spaced out a hundred thousand kilometers each in a long line toward the incoming target.

There was another unit of Raakarr, labeled R1, that had remained with the human fleet, H1. The Raptor was among them, of course, along with a Reach class, two dart ships, and two laser ships. The latter had also separated into five segments like those that were with R2, and had spread out to a range of five hundred thousand kilometers toward the enemy.

The plan was to make it seem like the human fleet was making a run for the Gate. And they were, essentially. If the target proved insurmountably difficult, they didn’t plan on staying in that system for very long. The problem was what they would do if the enemy decided to pursue them.

“The scavenger is coming within firing range of two of the lead laser segments,” Lewis said.

Jonathan nodded slowly. That meant the target was a hundred thousand kilometers from those lead segments, or roughly five hundred fifty thousand kilometers away from the center point of the two units R2 and H1, on the port side.

Jonathan saw white lines appear on his tactical display as the dart ships from both units fired their particle beams into the nearest laser segments, powering them. The segments in turn fired a concentrated beam that was boosted and repeated by the remaining four segments. The lines ended at the incoming target.

“The two laser ships have fired,” Lewis said.

When the lines faded, the red dot representing the target remained, of course. If that one ship had been able to take out all the fleets between here and Prius 3, it would be able to stand up to a few alien lasers.

“Tell me that did something,” Jonathan said.

“It did something,” Lewis replied. “I’m detecting multiple thermal leaks. The lasers breached their hull.”

“Good.”

Over the next three minutes, the lasers continued to fire. The scavenger never wavered from its incoming course.

“Captain,” Lewis said at the end of those three minutes. “You’re not going to believe this, but the thermal leakage on the enemy ship is remaining constant.”

“Constant, Ensign?” Jonathan said.

“Their hull seems to be healing,” she said. “The earlier impacts are closing over just as fast as the Raakarr can create new ones.”

“Nothing can repair damage that fast,” Robert said.

“Apparently, these aliens can,” Jonathan told the commander.

When the scavenger was thirty thousand kilometers from one of the lead laser segments, Lewis spoke up. “I’m detecting an extremely low frequency beam.”

“What sort of beam?”

“I’m not sure,” the ensign said. “I don’t think it’s a particle beam. It’s...”

“Well, what is it Ensign?” Jonathan said, unable to conceal the impatience from his voice.

“I believe it’s their gravitational wave weapon, sir,” Lewis said. “Though the frequency of the beam is different than the last time we encountered them, when they destroyed our Builder. I have no idea why... maybe they’re trying to account for the relatively long range.”

“What kind of damage is it doing?” Jonathan said. “Are they carving away a portion of the segment’s hull?”

“It doesn’t appear to be having any effect at the moment,” Lewis said. “The range must be too great. No, wait. According to the CDC, the edges of the lens segment appear indistinct. As if the entire hull is vibrating. Have a look at camera F33.”

Jonathan did as he was asked. He zoomed in on the lens segment. Sure enough, the Raakarr device had become very blurry around the edges. Before he could zoom in further, it broke apart entirely.

nine

What just happened?” Jonathan asked.

“The lens segment vibrated itself apart,” Lewis answered.

“And we were wondering which of their weapons was capable of causing debris,” Robert said. “Looks like we have our answer.”

“We do indeed,” Jonathan said, dismissing the video feed.

As the scavenger closed with the fleet, approaching from the port side, it fired its gravimetric beam every time it came to within thirty thousand kilometers of a laser segment, breaking said craft apart.

When the target reached a hundred and fifty thousand kilometers out from the main fleet, the admiral gave the order to fire mortars, followed by nukes and kinetic kills. The trajectories of the mortars were intended to herd the target into the succeeding nukes and missiles.

At the same time, the Raakarr ships in R2 rapidly decelerated. Given the current estimates of their new trajectory, as indicated by the dashed lines on the tactical display, R2 would initiate a flyby with the target just as H1 and R1 flew past in the opposite direction. A classic pincer attack.

“The Raakarr came through for us after all,” Robert said.

“So far...” Jonathan replied. “Keeping their leader close to our breasts is helping, I’m sure.” He glanced at the Raptor, which was nestled in formation not far from the Callaway.

Don’t betray us, Valor.

As the minutes ticked by, the target continued to close with the fleet from the port side. The mortars approached to forty thousand kilometers from the scavenger.

After another lens segment broke apart, Robert said: “They haven’t fired their disintegration bomb yet. Maybe they’ve exhausted their supply?”

“It’s possible,” Jonathan said. “But I believe they’re simply holding back. Why waste such a powerful bomb on something so easy to destroy as those laser segments? We’ve basically lined them up for the scavenger to destroy at its leisure. Also, keep in mind, they’ve had four systems to hone their tactics against us. Meanwhile, this is basically our first real encounter with it.”

“You’d think the Raakarr would have thrown a wrench into their plans,” Robert said. “Since the scavenger hasn’t encountered any of their vessels as of yet.”

Jonathan considered that. “We don’t really know who the Raakarr encountered in the Elder galaxy when they were there ahead of us, do we? Even though Valor claims they never saw any ships, do we really believe him?”

“I’m not sure we’re going to fully believe anything Valor says ever again,” Robert replied.

Those Raakarr laser segments that were beyond the thirty thousand kilometer range of the gravimetric weapon continued to fire on the scavenger. Not that the enemy seemed to be hurting: for every new bore the lasers inflicted, an old one sealed, according to the ops station.

“The Raakarr lasers are always targeting new areas,” Jonathan said. “You’d think we would have at least damaged some critical section by now. Or eliminated some of their crew.”

“Assuming they have crew, in the traditional sense of the word,” Robert said.

“AI manned?” Jonathan asked. “Or the equivalent?”

“Could be,” Robert replied.

Jonathan watched the mortars near the target on the tactical display.

“The scavenger is adjusting course to avoid the mortars,” Lewis said. “And heading directly for the ring of nukes and kinetic kills. Wait, it’s firing that gravimetric beam again. Aiming for a nuke.”

Jonathan saw one of the dots representing the nukes wink out. The red dot then slid upward and slightly backward on the Z plane.

“It’s moving out of the way of the remaining nukes,” Lewis said. She sounded confused. “I can’t believe this. It reversed course almost instantaneously, with no regard for its previous momentum or the laws of Newtonian physics, and then swung forward again, easily dodging past the remaining nukes and missiles.”

Miko looked at the captain. “Reactionless drive behavior.”

“Well that explains why it was so easily able to escape the Delta Vs when hiding so close to the Prius 3 star,” Jonathan said. He glanced at Robert. “I seem to recall you speculating that these scavengers might have had Alcubierre Drives?”

“That was my speculation regarding the Elder vessel,” Robert said. “As for this scavenger, I only told you that its maneuvering was close to the classical threshold. But now we’ve seen they can indeed go beyond that threshold. On par with the Elder.”

“Speaking of the Elder,” the ensign said. “The CDC is detecting similar readings from this scavenger as those emitted by the Elder and their Möbius strip vessel. Weak gravity waves that denote the shrinking and expanding of space in front and behind them.”

“The CDC didn’t detect similar gravity waves when you previously encountered this ship?”

“No,” Lewis said.

Jonathan glanced at Robert. “Could be that the scavengers utilize a mix of Newtonian and reactionless tech.”

Robert nodded. “Saving the reactionless tech for when they really need it.”

Jonathan tapped in Levieson. “By now I’m sure you’ve determined that these aliens use some kind of Alcubierre Drives?”

“We have,” the vice admiral returned. “Thank you, Captain.” He quickly disconnected.

A bit rude, but Jonathan was usually quite succinct in his dealings with those captains under him in the midst of a battle, too.

“Captain,” Ensign Lewis said. “This is strange, but it appears one of our mortars is moving along in front of the vessel, matching its heading and speed.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert. “How is that possible?”

“If they can bend space around their ship, it makes sense that they could bend it around nearby objects as well, up to a certain distance from their hull.”

“It might make sense to you, but not to me,” Jonathan said. “The power requirements would be quite immense, I would gather.”

“I would assume the same as well,” Robert said. “But if a species has the ability to construct Alcubierre Drives, you’d think they would have solved a lot of issues related to power as well.”

“Good point,” Jonathan said. “Though if they can bend space like you say, you’d think they’d be able to bend incoming lasers around them.”

“The problem with lasers is that they’re nearly instantaneous,” Robert said. “They need to have warning. Obviously they can’t be constantly bending space around them to form a shield, not if they want to move forward at the same time.”

“But if they’re utilizing dual classical-reactionless drive tech,” Jonathan said. “Couldn’t they switch to classic mode whenever they needed to apply a shield?”

Robert shrugged. “Obviously they haven’t solved every technical problem yet.”

“Maxwell, what do you think?” Jonathan said.

“I think the fleet is in serious trouble,” the Callaway’s AI replied.

“Ever insightful, as always,” Jonathan commented dryly.

“Fire another round of kinetic kills and nukes,” the admiral sent over the fleet comm. “Wide spread. Use the following firing solution.”

Jonathan forwarded the solution to Miko for implementation.

Once more the scavenger used its gravimetric beam to disrupt those nukes directly in its path, while employing its superior drives to evade the rest. It proceeded to scoop up several more mortars along the way, effectively forming a barrier in front of itself about two hundred meters from the forward section. Once more the scavenger was showing experience obviously gleaned from prior engagements by not including the missiles and nukes in that barrier—the proximity fuses would have detonated the weapons at that range.

“You have to wonder, why didn’t they come at us with a bunch of rocks already in place?” Miko asked. “Why scoop up our mortars during the advance?”

“That’s a good question,” Jonathan replied. “My guess is it comes back down to power requirements once again. It can’t be cheap to shove all those rocks along like that. They have to give their reactors a rest at some point.”

“Or it could be that they’re merely showing off,” Robert replied. “Watch, they’ll probably shoot those mortars right back at us at some point.”

When the scavenger reached the forty thousand kilometer mark from the fleet, the admiral ordered the Vipers to fire. Jonathan forwarded the firing solution to Miko.

Viper banks fired fleet-wide, as did the lasers on the Raakarr segments.

“Ops, tell me what we did,” Jonathan said.

“We combined our beams across the fleet,” Lewis said. “Forming eight distinct lines. We drilled through the mortar shield.”

“Fifty-five banks of Vipers would do that,” Robert said.

“We only scratched the surface of the ship on the other side, though,” Lewis said. “The Raakarr lasers also did some damage to the mortars, but they fired at slightly different spots than ours, and didn’t penetrate entirely.”

Jonathan nodded. It would be difficult for Barrick to translate the firing details to the Raakarr with any sort of accuracy.

“All ships, rotate one eighty degrees,” the admiral sent. “Let’s give our opposite banks a chance to fire.” When the ships had all maneuvered so that their starboard banks were facing the incoming vessel, she gave the order to unleash the Vipers again.

“Ops?” Jonathan asked after the weapons had fired.

“We shot through the bores in their mortar shield,” Lewis said. “Creating eight breaches in the ship. It doesn’t look like the lasers completely penetrated through to the other side, however. And as usual, the hull is already healing.”

At the twenty thousand kilometer mark, the fleet had recharged to eighty percent, and the admiral gave the order to fire again.

“Direct hit,” Lewis said. “We combined our beams once again, fired through the bores in the mortars. We’ve created eight penetrative breaches, right through to the other side of the craft. They’re still coming on strong.”

Once more the human vessels rotated to get in another volley from the opposite banks. The admiral had changed the beam dispersion by then, since they were that much closer to the enemy, with the beams capable of imparting more damage.

“We drilled sixteen new bores into the mortar,” Lewis said. “And tunneled into the alien hull in sixteen new places. We didn’t penetrate through to the other side, however.”

“Captain Dallas,” Admiral Ford sent over the fleet-wide comm. “Tell R2 to unleash their particle beams.”

Jonathan glanced at the tactical map. R2 was in range, at fifteen thousand kilometers. He tapped in Barrick and relayed the order.

The Raakarr vessels in both R1 and R2 fired, combining their beams to boost the range, and completing the pincer attack. Because of their positioning, R2 was able to strike the enemy from the side, hitting it behind the shield formed by the clumped mortars that partially protected the scavenger from the human Vipers.

The red dot representing the target winked out.

“We’ve done it,” Lewis said, exhaling in relief. “The scavenger is gone.”

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Robert said. “We didn’t lose a single ship. I was expecting a lot worse, given what we’ve seen in the previous systems.”

“It was the Raakarr that made all the difference,” Jonathan said. “These scavengers had never engaged our allies in combat. They didn’t know what to expect, or the dangers. Without the Raakarr, I doubt we would have won so readily.”

“I agree,” Robert said.

“Wait,” Lewis said. “We haven’t won yet. Multiple objects are emerging from behind the clumped mortars.”

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display. Sure enough, several red dots had appeared. Fifteen in total.

“It was a diversion,” Jonathan said. “Misdirection, allowing them to sneak their bombs through.”

“A strange tactic,” Robert commented. “Sacrificing one’s self, and one’s ship, to divert attention from the real attack.”

“I’m not sure they meant to sacrifice themselves,” Jonathan said. “But whatever the case, it worked quite well. Miko, get our point defenses to target those objects. Fire lasers, too. And mortars. Do whatever it takes to prevent those damn things from reaching us.”

ten

Jonathan switched to the external camera facing the incoming projectiles and zoomed in. He saw several cigar shaped objects glistening in the light of the distant suns. Some of them obviously had a silver tint. Others, gold. They all had small rods of different sizes extending from the nose regions.

“Our Vipers aren’t having any effect,” Lewis said.

As he watched, the gold ones began to divide, and divide again. Soon, each of them had separated into sixteen smaller objects. All heading toward the fleet.

He glanced at the overhead map. Ten of the original fifteen had divided, so that there were now one hundred and sixty five projectiles heading toward the main fleet—the majority were colored gold, while only five were silver. They all moved in zigzag patterns, evading the mortars and slugs the individual ships in the battle group were firing.

“Get some nukes out there, Miko!” Jonathan said. “Clear a route through that mess. And tell the Raakarr to fire their particle beams at those bombs as soon as they’re able.”

Nukes and kinetic kills from other ships already began to detonate; the latter were relatively useless, but the former cleared large swathes of the incoming objects, both gold and silver alike. That was a relief: the alien weaponry wasn’t impervious to all of their attacks. But that it required nukes to take them out was troubling, considering how limited the supply was. And unfortunately, the exploding warheads didn’t get all of the enemy objects, not with the distances involved, and the remaining projectiles continued inexorably forward.

The Callaway’s own nukes entered the fray, and cleared a partial path through those that were headed toward the ship. However, two of the enemy bombs penetrated the defensive line and made directly for the cruiser.

Jonathan sat up straighter. “Miko... target everything we have on those two! Helm, dive!”

He glanced at the other ships on the tactical display. Across the board, projectiles were slamming into the fleet. Those vessels hit by the golden fragments were severely damaged, sometimes splitting in two. Impacts by the silver projectiles, meanwhile, caused all-out disintegration.

Chaos erupted over the fleet comm: the line filled with the frantic, dying calls of captains whose ships were sinking.

In moments it was over. Twelve United Systems ships had been destroyed. Another five severely damaged. Eight more suffered from impacts that ranged from minor to moderate. The Raakarr with the human fleet fared little better. Their particle beams hadn’t recharged soon enough to fire, and thus weren’t able to destroy any of the incoming objects. The two laser ships with R1 were gone, and one of the dart ships was missing a wing. Meanwhile the members of R2 had maintained no damage whatsoever because of the positioning afforded by their outflanking maneuver.

The Callaway was among the more fortunate of the human vessels, and had escaped unscathed. Jonathan joined the other intact warships in collecting the survivors and lifepods from the wreckages of the gold impacts. A few crew members from ships struck by the silver disintegration bombs had managed to board lifepods before their vessels atomized, and those were collected, too.

Three of the crippled United Systems ships had to be abandoned, as they suffered debilitating engine damage that would take months to repair. Their crews were dispersed among the remainder of the fleet. The other two severely damaged ships were able to limp onward, engaging in repairs while under way, along with the eight that were less damaged. Some of them had weapons systems that were completely offline. Others had problems with hydroponics and waste disposal systems. Jonathan was glad he wasn’t aboard the latter vessels.

As for the Raakarr, the dart ship that lost a wing was evacuated and then destroyed. Meanwhile the Raptor had suffered minor damage to one of its stilts, and the associated particle beam was offline while undergoing repairs. 

Fifteen United Systems ships lost. Three Raakarr vessels. In all, a terrible cost to take down one scavenger.

That left forty United Systems craft versus twenty-seven Raakarr. The odds were becoming more favorable for the Raakarr, should they decide to turn against their human allies. Though the human fleet still outnumbered the aliens, it wasn’t by a comfortable margin, not by far.

The admiral held a captain’s conference the next day after all survivors had been gathered.

“We won,” Admiral Ford said. “Due to your steadfast dedication, and your adherence to orders. I salute you. The threat to our galaxy has been eliminated. Unfortunately, we’re still out of contact with Earth, and unsure of what lies ahead. Who can say how deep that scavenger ship had penetrated before returning here? We can only hope this was the last system, and in the next we will find a large force of amassed warships waiting to defend against its intrusion.”

“And yet, this begs the question,” Captain Rail said. “Why were we able to eliminate it, relatively easily at that, when the other fleets between here and Prius 3 could not?”

“I would hardly call our victory easy,” Captain Rodriguez said. “We paid the price of eighteen ships to stand here today. If that’s how much it costs to eliminate one of them, just be glad no more came to our space.”

“But that’s my point,” Rail said. “Though we paid a high cost, we won. Why were the other fleets unable to do so?”

“First of all,” Captain Bane interjected. “We had the advantage of numbers. None of the other fleets possessed anywhere near our eighty-plus ships. If they had all come together in Delta Avalon or Anvil Rappel to stage a combined defensive, they might have come close, but we’ve seen no evidence of that. The scavenger won against them simply because they were spread too thin. But you know, now that I think about it, I’m willing to bet that the respective fleets never really even stood their ground. The captains had probably all seen the transmissions from Prius 3, and knew exactly how powerful this new enemy was. They realized they’d have to come together to stand any chance. So when the scavenger entered their respective systems, a few ships probably remained behind to stall them, while the remainder fled. And as Admiral Ford suggested, we’ll probably find them all amassed in the next system, with reinforcements joining their ranks from Earth.”

“It’s an interesting theory,” Rail said. “Though whether true or not, I guess we’ll find out shortly.”

“Another factor to consider in our expedient victory,” Jonathan said. “Is that we had the Raakarr with us. Those aliens made all the difference, I think. The scavenger simply didn’t know how to deal with them.”

Admiral Ford nodded slowly. “Well whatever the case, we did win. That fact is irrefutable. And whatever awaits us in Gliese 581, we will prevail. I have faith in every last one of you.”

And so the battle group headed inexorably toward the next Gate. Not that they had any choice, given that there was no return Gate to Delta Avalon.

eleven

When the fleet reached the Gate to Gliese 581, the Raptor pulled ahead. The pyramid ship approached the bright, manmade ring that encircled the distortion in space-time and launched two probes.

Jonathan watched the indicators representing the probes on his tactical display. The pair had begun decelerating as they neared the wormhole, as per the admiral’s orders. She didn’t want those probes to appear longer than a few microseconds in the adjacent system, just in case the expected United Systems destroyers and nukes at the endpoint attacked the unidentified objects.

On the display, the probes touched the wormhole and then immediately began accelerating back toward the Raptor. Jonathan wasn’t even sure if they had passed through.

“Looks a bit deceptive, doesn’t it?” Robert said. “Makes you wonder if Valor actually sent the probes through.”

“He sent them,” Jonathan said. “He has no reason to lie at this point. He’s just as fully invested in humanity as we are in him.”

“Or so he has led us to believe,” Robert said. “Never forget the treachery that led to the destruction of the Elk homeworld.”

“I don’t intend to,” Jonathan said. “One of the United Systems greatest infamies? One that I knowingly took part in? I won’t ever forget.”

Barrick tapped in. “Captain Dallas, we have the results from the snapshot.”

“Speak, Barrick,” Jonathan said, extending the comm feed to his first officer, and Miko.

“You’re not going to like this,” Barrick said. “But there are no amassed units. No reinforcements. Instead, we’re seeing signs of a one-sided attack. Complete and total obliteration of United Systems property, once again.”

Jonathan couldn’t believe it. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No, Captain,” Barrick said. “The sole colonized world in Gliese 581, the pleasure planet Rius, has had its habitation domes shattered. In the upper atmosphere, the wreckages of starships and defense platforms descend in different decaying orbits, slowly burning up. More debris is scattered throughout the system: mining colonies, and the mercenary ships hired to defend them. There are no vessels, United Systems or otherwise, intact anywhere. And of the six Slipstreams, only the one that eventually leads to Earth still has a Gate in place. The rest have vanished. There is no return Gate to Beta Ursae Majoris.”

Jonathan informed the vice admiral and then he sat back to think.

Gliese 581 was a bit of an oddity in that it had six Slipstreams. The first and second led to Sino-Korean space, the third and fourth to Franco-Italian space, and the last two United Systems space: Beta Ursae Majoris and Sirius—Earth was two jumps away via the latter. Those six wormholes made Gliese 581 a trade hub of sorts, as they opened up routes with the Sino-Koreans on the one side and the Franco-Italians on the other.

The space station Europa, in orbit above Rius, had been a famous port of call for space-faring merchants. Banks and lenders had opened hundreds of branches aboard the station; because of that, deals could be conducted for vast quantities of goods and financed on the spot, and then when the negotiating was done, the participants could descend to the planet and celebrate, availing themselves to all the illicit pleasures Rius provided.

Jonathan activated his noise canceler around Robert and Miko.

“Why is the system so quiet?” Jonathan said. “Reinforcements should have at least come from the Franco-Italians, or even the Sino-Koreans. Assuming that the Gates on the other side haven’t been destroyed.”

“Maybe reinforcements already came,” Robert said. “And the Raptor is reporting the aftermath of that.”

“Could Valor or Barrick be lying?” Miko said.

“Why would either of them lie now?” Jonathan said. “When they’ve told us the truth up until this point?”

“Remember what we talked about,” Robert said. “The treachery against the Elk homeworld...”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jonathan said. “Even so, lying doesn’t make all that much sense at this point. I’m going to assume they’re telling the truth.”

“Well, here’s something else to consider,” Miko said. “The systems beyond all six Slipstreams might look exactly like what we’ve already seen. Consider for a moment, what if every human colony has been destroyed, regardless of their government or nationality. Sino-Korean. Franco-Italian. Russian. All gone. Maybe even Earth is gone...”

“It would be a disaster beyond comparison,” Jonathan said, not believing it. “Nothing in human history would even come close. We’d have to look at prehistory for an example—the extinction of the dinosaurs.”

“Yes,” Miko said. “We thought we were preserving our species by expanding to the stars, planning for the time when the Earth would one day become uninhabitable, her star transforming into a red giant. Instead, it turns out, reaching for the stars only led to our doom.”

“An unsettling thought,” Jonathan said.

“I’ll say,” Robert added. “It would mean we’re among the last human survivors. Us, and the fleets we left behind in Vega 951 and Raakarr-1.”

“I don’t believe it’s true,” Jonathan said. “That the Earth is gone, and that the other seats of human government throughout our space have fallen. We haven’t been gone that long.”

“Haven’t we?” Miko said.

“You’re wrong,” Jonathan said. “I have hope for humanity yet.”

“What’s troubling throughout all of this,” Robert said. “Is that they’ve always left the way to Earth open. Always left at least one Gate still in place, allowing us to continue toward our homeworld if we should so desire. Is it a coincidence that once again the only Gate remaining leads to a system that is one jump away from Earth?”

“Probably not,” Jonathan said. “I definitely get the feeling we’re being herded. Someone wants to prove a very big point.”

“The Elder?” Robert asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Jonathan said. “How can any of us really know at this point? Though I suspect we’ll learn who’s behind all of this when we reach Earth.”

“If we reach Earth...” Miko said.

Jonathan began to nod in agreement, but then caught himself.

I refuse to show anything but hope. The crew needs to see hope in their CO, otherwise what reason do they have to get up in the morning and report to their station?

What reason do I have?

“We’ll reach Earth,” Jonathan said grimly.

THE FLEET WAITED another five days for the existing telemetry drones to return, but nothing else was discovered in Beta Ursae Majoris. During that time, the Raptor continued to monitor the state of the neighboring system via its own probes, but nothing changed. 

And so it was with heavy hearts and much trepidation that the members of the fleet moved into the next system, Gliese 581. Once more, the first action the battle group performed after passing through was to launch fresh telemetry drones. The admiral ordered more of the drones deployed this time, given the extensive contents of the system.

Gliese 581 was a two star system. The star at the center of the system was a red dwarf—by far the most common star in the galaxy, especially in the vicinity of Earth’s solar system. On the outskirts of Gliese 581, a bit farther than where Pluto resided in relation to Earth’s sun, was a low-mass brown dwarf, glowing in the infrared spectrum, revolving around the main star. Nearer to the red dwarf were three more planets. The closest to the sun was Hades, so named because its extreme proximity to the crimson star had boiled away the atmosphere and created a lava ocean that migrated depending on which side of the planet faced the sun. The second planet was Rius, whose powerful magnetosphere protected the planet from both the radiation of the red and the X-rays of the brown. The third was a gas giant, Helios, located midway between the two suns, with a massive triple ring system that put Saturn to shame. Thick asteroid belts resided on either side of the gas giant in orbit around the red giant.

The extra telemetry drones were dispatched toward the asteroid belts and the gas giant with its ring systems; Jonathan didn’t think the scouts would help all that much. There was no way those probes were going to be able to pick up everything that could be hiding in there.

The admiral didn’t wait long to order the fleet to set course for the only intact Gate.

About four days into the journey, Jonathan found himself in his office arguing with Maxwell about the cause of the current state of affairs in human space. It was a variation of an ongoing disagreement he had had with the machine for months now.

“What we did to the Elk homeworld was wrong,” Jonathan said. “That’s all there is to it. We should have never detonated the planet killer. Even when we thought it was just a colony world.”

“We have eliminated an enemy of humanity,” Maxwell said. “Or at least, greatly weakened them. By logic alone, the action was right, and just.”

“There is no justice when billions of innocent lives are lost,” Jonathan said.

“How could they truly be innocent?” Maxwell said. “When they represented members of a hostile alien race? They were not human, or AIs built by humans. They had no rights. They were part of the alien industry that churned out war machines meant to conquer humanity.”

Jonathan sighed. “We’ve destroyed homeworlds before in our checkered history. Or tried to, anyway. I’m reminded of the Alien War of seventy years ago. When we nuked the surface of a planet to hell in an effort to eliminate an alien species. We failed in that case, thankfully. It was before we had planet killers. The surviving aliens negotiated a truce with us and we found peace.”

“For a time,” Maxwell said. “But I must remind the captain, we have fought two wars with them since.”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Because our terms of peace were too constrictive. Humanity would fight, too, if forced to forgo space travel and all the expansion that it entailed. But we’ve finally agreed upon a lasting peace with them.”

“Lasting?” Maxwell said. “More like a shaky peace. Better that we had destroyed them utterly, so that they could never attack us again.”

“The cold logic of a machine,” Jonathan muttered. “At least it explains why you’re so happy we did that very thing to the Elk.”

“But that’s exactly my point,” Maxwell said. “We didn’t destroy the Elk utterly. If humanity truly wants peace, it would be in your best interests to hunt down every last Elk and see them to extinction. The Zarafe seem willing to lend a helping hand...”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Hunt them to extinction. Like someone, or some thing, is apparently doing to humankind at this very moment. And that’s another reason, besides the obvious moral one, why we should have never destroyed the Elk homeworld. We’ve offended someone we probably shouldn’t have.”

“Humanity has made powerful enemies since setting foot outside of the solar system,” Maxwell said. “Enemies that observed a human fleet spread thin. Too many of your vessels were gathered near the borders of Sino-Korean space. Too many sent to dispatch the Elk. Not enough guarding the homeworld, Earth, or the colony worlds. Something that hates humanity saw an opportunity, and used it to strike.”

“What, you’re blaming all of this on the actions of one individual, or entity?” Jonathan said.

“All I’m saying,” Maxwell replied. “Is that there are more players involved than you know. Players that work from the shadows, spiders spinning carefully spun webs to snare the unwary.”

“What do you know, AI?” Jonathan asked suspiciously.

“I am merely speculating,” Maxwell replied, its voice sounding nonchalant. A little too nonchalant, actually.

Jonathan sighed. If the AI knew something and didn’t want to tell him—or didn’t have the authorization to tell him—there was no way the captain was going to get Maxwell to reveal it.

“Do you know,” Jonathan said. “Some philosophers argue it would have been better not to leave our own solar system in the first place, given the calamities that have befallen since then.”

“Not leave your own solar system?” Maxwell said. “Hide in the equivalent of your basements all your lives? Go against your curious natures? I don’t think humankind is capable of such behavior.”

“You’re right, of course,” Jonathan said. “Never thought I’d be out-lectured on human behavior by an AI.”

“Captain,” Ensign Lewis interrupted over the comm. “Better come to the bridge.”

twelve

Jonathan pulled up the tactical display on his aReal.

From behind Hades, eight red dots had emerged. They were on an intercept course with the fleet. The estimated contact time was three days.

Jonathan left his office and took his place at the Round Table.

“So what do we know about them?” Jonathan said.

“They’re scavenger ships,” Robert said.

Stunned, Jonathan glanced at Robert. “Scavengers? More of them?”

“Yes,” Robert said. “The exact same ship class as the one we encountered previously.”

“Well, at least we know why there were no reinforcements,” Jonathan said. “I was beginning to wonder how one single ship dealt with all of our fleets stationed between here and Prius 3. The question is, how the hell did all of these scavengers get here?”

“Miko suggested these aliens might have probes capable of creating shipyards, like the Raakarr,” Robert said.

Jonathan sat back in his seat. “Wouldn’t we have detected any shipyards by now? Given that we’ve been launching telemetry drones first thing after arriving in every system?”

“I’m not so sure if we would have detected them,” Miko said. “There are a lot of places to hide in any given system. It’s also possible that the shipyard was consumed with the creation of the ship, or became part of it. You remember those large drill holes we detected on some of the colonies? Could be that special types of nano or microbots were dispatched to the surface, carved the ships out of the raw resources, and the ship took flight.”

“Well, that would certainly be the first time we’ve ever encountered a species capable of such streamlined ship creation,” Jonathan said. “And if it’s true, the implications are disturbing.”

“There’s also a possibility the Elder changed the Slipstream endpoints in whatever region of space the scavengers live,” Robert said. “And they’ve been slowly trickling through into our galaxy.”

“And why, do you think, would the Elder have reason to do that?” Jonathan asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Robert replied, equally ironic.

“Good old NAVCENT,” Jonathan said. “Can never take a warning from a far more advanced alien race at face value. Well, however they got here, we have to deal with them. Eight scavengers. If they’re anywhere as capable as the last we fought, we’re in for the fight of our lives.”

“Eight ships to our sixty-seven?” Robert said. “You’re right about the fight of our lives. Considering it cost eighteen ships to take down one of theirs the last time.”

“In theory we’re more experienced now,” Miko said. “And will suffer fewer losses.”

“Are we?” Jonathan glanced at the tactical officer. “As you say, we’ve only fought one. We haven’t seen what kind of fleet tactics they might implement when there are eight of them. What are our strategic options? Is there any way we can reach the Gate before contact?”

Miko pursed his lips, and his eyes defocused as if he was accessing something on his aReal. “Based on their current speed, if we loop around Helios and use the gas giant as a gravitational slingshot, we should be able to make it to the next Gate about two days ahead of them.”

“Two days,” Jonathan said. “That’s not bad.”

“Yes,” Miko said. “We could mine the entrance with nukes on the other side, and leave an attack force to slow them down, allowing the rest of us to escape.”

“Assuming it’s safe to pass through in the first place,” Robert said. “We’ll have to send the Raakarr ahead of us to confirm.”

Miko nodded. “It would be a good idea.”

Jonathan raised his noise canceler about the three of them, and the captain, commander, and lieutenant continued brainstorming their options, with Maxwell adding the occasional input. He knew the admiral was having similar discussions with her own advisers, a tight-knit group no doubt just as capable as Jonathan’s own. Still, he wanted to be prepared for whatever plan she came up with, so that he could make suggestions, if appropriate, when she presented it.

The three concluded their discussions and Jonathan decided that the slingshot-boosted sprint to the Gate was likely the best option for the fleet, at least in terms of making it back to Earth with the most ships. But he would follow whatever course of action the admiral chose, of course.

Apparently the admiral and her advisers had come to the same conclusion, because that afternoon at the captain’s conference, she gave the order to make a close flyby of Helios as part of a run for the Gate.

When she was done, one of the captains immediately spoke up.

“This is a great plan, it really is,” Captain Tabari said. A grizzled man with a chest more like a MOTH than a captain, his vessel, the destroyer Atlantis, had suffered major damage in the last attack. “But what about those of us aboard the more damaged ships? Our already weak hulls will be pulled apart by the intense gravitational forces that close to Helios. At the very least, we’ll develop several new hull breaches. We have enough cosmic radiation leakage as it is.”

“I plan to send extra repair teams aboard the most vulnerable vessels,” the admiral said. “To shore up and reinforce your hulls. And as for radiation leakage, you’ll just have to ensure your medics implant the appropriate anti-rads in the entire crew. We’ll send the necessary subdermal supplies if you don’t have enough.”

Tabari looked like he was about to say something, then he shut his mouth. Finally: “Yes, Admiral.”

“The only other option is to stand and fight,” Admiral Ford said. “We could loop around Helios, leave some of our forces behind, and send the rest to orbit around to the other side, and catch the scavengers in a double or triple pincer maneuver. It’s tricky, and we’ve run the simulations, and the odds are that we will win. But the casualties on our side will be immense. It’s simply not worth it, when every vessel lost is a vessel that could have been used in the defense of Earth.” She ran her gaze across the assembled captains. “There’s a time to fight, and a time to run. Our goal now is to make it to our homeworld at all costs. I have a feeling our Terran brothers and sisters will need as many of our ships as we can offer. So we slingshot past Helios, flee through the Gate into the Sirius system, mine the endpoint, and proceed to the next Gate.”

Tabari cleared his throat. All eyes fell upon him. He bit his lower lip. “When we’re that close to the giant, if the Atlantis is ripped apart by the forces involved, none of the lifepods will be able to achieve escape velocity.”

“I am well aware of that,” the admiral said quietly.

THE BATTLE GROUP diverted toward the gas giant Helios. The scavengers updated their course to pursue, but Helios was already exerting its influence, increasing the speed of the human and Raakarr fleet.

Jonathan wondered if the scavengers were purposely holding back. In theory, if they had reactionless drives, they likely could have moved faster. But they seemed happy to herd the battle group toward the Gate. Jonathan was beginning to dread what the human fleet would find on the other side, and especially when they reached the Earth system.

As they neared the gas giant, Jonathan zoomed in on the feed provided by one of the forward cameras to observe the upper atmosphere. Helios was a major source of geronium for the United Systems and Franco-Italians, so it was both odd and disturbing at the same time to see no harvesters in orbit. 

All traces of humankind wiped from the stars.

As expected, during the slingshot maneuver the stresses exerted on the vessels were brutal. During the closest point of the flyby, the bridge deck of the Callaway shook from the competing forces of inertia, thrust and gravity that acted upon the cruiser from different directions.

Thankfully, all of the ships held out, including the Atlantis. The infrastructure-boosting repair teams obviously made a difference, though there were reports of fresh hull breaches to some of the more damaged vessels.

After moving well away from the influence of the gravity well, the fleet proceeded toward the destination Slipstream. They were due to reach the Gate two days ahead of the scavengers, as expected.

Closer to the Gate, the vice admiral tapped in Jonathan.

“Time for our Raakarr friends to pull ahead,” Levieson said.

“Roger that,” Jonathan replied. He tapped in Wethersfield. “Have Valor proceed with the advance scan.”

Two of the Raakarr dart ships broke away from the main group and accelerated at their full speed toward the Gate. The vessels decelerated roughly half a day later to allow the fleet to catch up, and meanwhile launched their probes to continue toward the Gate.

By the time the rest of the fleet arrived, the Raakarr had already taken a snapshot of the next system.

“Not unexpectedly,” Barrick reported. “There is only more destruction to United Systems property. No intact comm nodes, vessels, colonies or bases of any kind await on the other side. The return Gate is gone. And the final Gate leading to Earth is intact. No sign of any scavengers.”

“I’m sure they’re hiding somewhere out there,” Jonathan said.

He relayed the news to Levieson, and then his first officer.

“Well that’s somewhat of a relief,” Robert said. “Knowing that after coming all this way, we won’t be stranded in some system essentially right on Earth’s doorstep.”

“Yes, but what worries me is where the scavengers will be hiding this time,” Jonathan said. “And whether they’ll attempt some outflanking maneuver with the other scavengers on our tail.”

“That is definitely worrisome,” Robert agreed.

The battle group reached the Gate and rushed through without waiting for the existing telemetry drones to return.

On the other side, the admiral had every ship launch nukes and missiles while underway. The weapons were programmed to assume positions in front of the endpoint, forming a thick, multilayered lattice of smart mines that the enemy would be hard-pressed to navigate unscathed.

A few unmanned Avengers and Raakarr fighters were also left behind to harry any ships that made it across; the two types of fighters would also use their lasers and slugs to hopefully terminate any smaller trigger craft the scavengers might send through with the intention of clearing the mines.

The fleet also launched a few telemetry drones, though there wasn’t much point, considering that the faster-moving starships were continuing deeper into the system at the same time, rather than lingering at the endpoint as they had done in the past, and would quickly outpace the drones. The fleet launched them mostly for completeness, having them fan out far to the sides of the system with the intent of providing coverage of certain planets whose opposite hemispheres were hidden from the battle group, given the current angle of approach to the Gate.

Sirius was considered the gateway system to the stars, at least from the United Systems perspective. It was the first destination for anyone taking the United Systems-owned Sol Gate 1 located between Mars and Jupiter, a little past the asteroid belt. It was a binary star system consisting of Sirius A, a white main sequence star twice as massive as the Earth’s sun and twenty-five times brighter, and Sirius B, a very dim white dwarf that had long ago reached its red giant stage and shed its outer layers. The distance between the two stars varied from 1.2 billion kilometers to 4.7 billion kilometers as the binaries revolved around their common barycenter. Sirius A had four terrestrial planets in orbit from one hundred million kilometers to five hundred million kilometers out, while Sirius B had another two, at two hundred million and six hundred million kilometers respectively. Several more planets, mostly terrestrials but also one ice giant, orbited the barycenter of both starting at a distance of five billion kilometers out. The Slipstream to Gliese 581 was part of the latter group, while the wormhole to Earth’s system, Sol, resided in orbit around Sirius A between its first and second planets.

During the journey across Sirius, the Raptor had one of its deployed fighters pass in and out of the Slipstream to Gliese 581, and reported on the progress of the enemy. Apparently the eight scavengers had turned back a few hours after the fleet left the system, if the Raakarr were to be believed. Valor claimed the ships had broken formation, and were accelerating on different trajectories to intercept the telemetry drones the battle group had deployed throughout the system.

Jonathan hoped Valor was telling the truth. Because the last thing the fleet needed right now was an enemy pursuing them all the way to Earth, not when there were so many places for an ambush up ahead.

thirteen

What do you think?” Jonathan asked his first officer after calling him into his office.

“About Valor’s insistence that the scavengers in the neighboring Gliese 851 have broken off the pursuit?” Robert said. “Well, if true, we’ve wasted our nukes and mined the endpoint for nothing.”

“I don’t think covering our rear quarter can ever be considered a waste,” Jonathan said. “But my question to you is: why would the scavengers even bother to pursue in the first place, if they had no intention of following us through?”

“Other than the obvious answer that they were herding us?” Robert said. “I don’t know.”

“Which begs the question, why is it so important to herd us toward Earth?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Robert said. “Though one thing to consider... it could be that they remotely scanned the endpoint somehow, and turned around when they saw all those mines.”

“Could be,” Jonathan agreed. 

Three days passed and no enemy emerged from the Slipstream behind them. It looked like the Raakarr had not been lying. Valor’s latest update pegged the scavengers as hidden behind Helios in Gliese 581.

Jonathan started to believe they were going to reach Earth scot-free.

And then a few hours later more scavengers were reported. This time emerging from behind a planet in orbit around Sirius B. Thirteen enemy vessels in total.

Jonathan had been awakened by the news, and he sat in his bunk wearing his aReal glasses. “Maxwell, will they intercept us before we reach the Gate?”

“Negative,” Maxwell said. “By the time we reach the Gate, the scavengers will still be one day behind, if they maintain their current speed.”

“That’s a relief,” Jonathan said. “Then again, if they decide to increase their speed...”

“Then they will cut us off,” Maxwell finished for him.

The admiral announced that the fleet would maintain its current trajectory, with no deviations. They were to head directly for the Gate, and Earth.

On the fifth day since entering the system, the battle group passed relatively close to the destroyed colony Albuquerque on the second planet in orbit about the common barycenter. The scans reported nothing left of the main cities. The terraformed world itself remained environmentally intact, like others the fleet had encountered so far; if humanity ever recovered from this, there was still a chance they could rebuild worlds such as these.

“Does anyone else feel like we’re traveling deeper into enemy territory?” Miko said as they left the destroyed colony behind. “We keep finding more and more of these unfriendly ships the closer we get to Earth. It doesn’t feel like United Systems space anymore, not at all.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert.

The commander activated his noise canceler and extended it around the captain. Then Robert spoke: “I’m torn. A part of me believes we should turn back. Try to preserve what little pockets of humanity there are left in this galaxy. Before we’re wiped out completely.”

“But we can’t,” Jonathan said. “You know that. Our duty lies ahead. We have to protect the Earth, if we can.”

“You’re right of course,” Robert said.

Jonathan nodded slowly.

Am I?

Like Miko, the captain couldn’t help feeling they were all headed toward their doom. He wondered if any Gates existed at all in Sol System. If they passed through, there might be no returning.

The deeper we go into this dark den, the harder it is to get out again.

ONCE AGAIN, AS the fleet grew near to the final Gate, designated ships among the Raakarr moved ahead to scout. The alien craft decelerated after launching probes half a day away, and when the fleet rendezvoused with them, Barrick tapped in from the Raptor.

“What news?” Jonathan said. “Do we still have the Earth?”

“The Earth appears to be intact,” Barrick said. “Along with several colonies and bases situated on the surfaces of various planets and moons.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Jonathan said. “The Eighty-First Defensive Fleet was able to defend the system after all.”

“Therein lies the problem,” Barrick replied. “For you see, Captain, there is no defensive fleet.”

“Say again?”

“There is no defensive fleet,” the telepath replied. “And both Sol Gate 1 and 2 are gone.”

Jonathan sat back, stunned. “No defensive fleet.”

“That is correct,” Barrick said. “All vessels have either vanished, or been reduced to space debris. The orbital defense platforms above Earth and most of the populated moons and planets have been destroyed.”

“But you said the Earth, and many colonies and bases throughout the solar system were intact.”

“I did,” Barrick said. “On the surface. And that is the key. There are a few defense platforms still orbiting Mars. And we detected a couple of space stations above Titan and other moons, but everything else in orbit or deep space is gone.”

“So the Earth has truly fallen then,” Jonathan said. “But wait, you say the surface appears intact?”

“It does,” Barrick replied. “Though keep in mind that the Slipstream endpoint terminates just outside the asteroid belt. The Raakarr sensors can only pick up so much detail from the planet at that range. The resolution currently isn’t high enough to determine whether any life still exists. We can see the outline of cities, however. And as far as the Raakarr can determine, there is no evidence of the previous surface damage we detected on other colonies, at least from the imagery alone.”

“So there’s still hope, then,” Jonathan said.

“There is,” Barrick replied.

“Is there anything I should know about this future?” Jonathan asked.

“If I say either way, it will influence the course of events,” Barrick replied. “I had my chance to intervene long ago. I failed. I have no further role to play in this, Captain, other than to serve as your dutiful translator. But you, however, you have a very big role.”

Jonathan sighed, then he contacted the vice admiral and relayed the news.

The battle group passed through the Slipstream and into Sol system one day ahead of the scavengers.

“Is it true?” Jonathan asked the ops station after the Callaway traversed the Gate. “Are there really no other ships out there? United Systems? Sino-Korean? Civilian merchants?”

“Yes,” Ensign McNamara of the second watch answered. “All the ships are gone. Either they’re hiding, they’re grounded, or they’ve fled the system.”

“What makes you come to that conclusion?” Jonathan asked. “As opposed to the obvious answer: that they’ve all been destroyed?”

“Well,” the ensign replied. “There isn’t enough debris to account for the expected ship density. On average there are two hundred merchant and civilian ships passing through the system at any given time. Plus, four United Systems fleets would have been stationed here. Task Force 34 at Sol Gate 1, TF 17 at Mars, TF 91 at Titan, and Battle Force 82 at Earth. That’s another five hundred ships. And the Sino-Koreans would have had two hundred stationed at their Sol Gate 2. Plus the myriad other mercenary ships in the employ of the local colonies and asteroid mining stations. That’s over a thousand ships in total. But I’m only detecting debris consistent with maybe two hundred ships, scattered throughout the system. They can’t all have been destroyed.”

“You forget the enemy also has a disintegration weapon,” Jonathan said.

“I didn’t forget,” McNamara said. “I guess I just hoped the involved fleets had escaped it.”

Jonathan nodded. “Keep up that optimism, Ensign. We could all use a dose of it.” He glanced at his second watch comm officer. “Are we detecting any chatter from the intact bases in the system?”

“No,” the officer said. “I’m not reading anything out there. It’s very strange. I’ve been trying to hail multiple stations, including those of Earth. So far, I haven’t heard anything back.”

“All right, keep trying,” Jonathan said. “And let me know if you hear anything.”

He glanced at the map of the solar system on his tactical display. Scavenger ships might be lurking behind any of the celestial bodies. “Where are you hiding? Ops, I don’t suppose there are telemetry drones out there we can piggyback a connection on?”

“Not a one,” McNamara replied.

Unsurprisingly, the admiral sent the order for the fleet to launch their own telemetry drones, scattering them in all directions. It felt very unusual to have to launch scouts in one’s own home system.

Admiral Ford followed up that order with a command to set a course for Earth.

While underway, once more the fleet launched nukes and missiles to serve as smart mines surrounding the endpoint behind them. They placed just as many as the last time, forming a thick latticework. Two Avengers and two Raakarr fighters were also stationed to guard the endpoint. One of the alien fighters would act as a comm node, passing in and out of Sol System and Sirius to keep the fleet apprised of the latest regarding the pursuers.

Wethersfield reported shortly thereafter that the scavengers left behind in Sirius had lost interest in the pursuit, and were splitting up, apparently flying toward the telemetry drones the fleet had deployed in the system, likely to destroy them.

The admiral called the expected captain’s meeting and once more Jonathan found himself seated around the very familiar virtual conference room.

“So, as far as we can tell,” Admiral Ford said. “Several of the colonies remain intact. High resolution scanners have detected signs of life on Earth. There is no confirmation yet on Mars, which is located on the far side of the sun. The planet has only just come into view. There are some indications of citizens out and about in Janno, but we’re not certain as of yet.” Janno was the Martian capital. “I know that nearly all of you have already attempted communications with one colony or another. So far, none of us has received a response. And the lack of comm chatter would imply some sort of interference precluding long range communications.

“Without any repeaters, it’s very unlikely we’ll be able to penetrate that interference anytime soon, which is why I’m transmitting comm node deployment patterns to all of you. Please launch your comm nodes as per the included firing solution at the completion of this conference. Hopefully we’ll penetrate through the interference to some of the mining colonies in the farther reaches of the asteroid belt before we reach Earth, and then we can find out what happened. I only wish there were a few intact colonies closer to our route that we could talk to, but they’ve all been destroyed along the usual path one would take from the Slipstream to Earth.”

She paused. “Whatever lies ahead, I know that you will all be strong. Now let’s get back to our homeworld.”

THE FLEET PASSED directly through the asteroid belt. There was no need to pay the Delta V costs to leave the invariable plane of the planets simply to skirt the belt, as it had a very low density of asteroids—the rocks were very widely spaced, and LIDAR allowed the starships to make any necessary course adjustments to avoid any asteroids well in advance. The only worry was micrometeor impacts, but the Whittle shields protected against that.

After traversing the asteroid belt, the fleet continued toward Earth, making good time. So far, none of the comm nodes that were dispersing throughout the system had picked up any communications chatter, and the telemetry probes launched when they first entered the system had not detected anything new.

Jonathan happened to be on the bridge as they passed inside the orbit of Mars. So he was the first to learn the news.

“Sir,” Ensign Lewis said.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked. The urgency in her voice unsettled him. 

“The Earth,” was all she said.

Jonathan glanced at his tactical display. A red dot had appeared above the Earth. Because it was in geosynchronous orbit, revolving with the planet itself, it had appeared on their sensors only now. 

“Get me a video feed,” Jonathan said.

A moment later he was looking at the feed from one of the nose cameras. He zoomed in. Floating above the Earth was a giant, golden ship, shaped like a Möbius strip, the thick plane that comprised its hull twisting one hundred and eighty degrees so that it possessed only one continuous surface, topologically equivalent to a circle. A thick ingot of pure white light was sourced from the center of that circle, and shot down into the planet.

“It appears the Elder judged us unworthy after all,” Robert commented softly.

Jonathan had foreseen this moment. The Callaway had taken some of the Elder offspring from a planet in their galaxy—the crew thought they were collecting cylindrical “anomalies.” When Jonathan had gone to examine the objects in cargo bay seven, a psychic manifestation had appeared in his mind, showing the Elder craft, hovering above the Earth just like this, firing that white beam at the surface.

He had foreseen humanity’s doom.

And now it was coming to pass.

fourteen

Can we tell what that beam is doing?” Jonathan asked.

“Not from our current position,” Lewis answered.

“But it can’t be good,” Robert said.

“No,” Jonathan agreed.

“The Elder seems to be maintaining a geostationary orbit,” the ensign continued. “The beam is striking the Arctic Ocean... in the Eurasian Basin.”

“I just looked that up on my aReal,” Robert said. “It’s the closest point to the center of the Earth you can get from the surface, considering that our planet isn’t a perfect sphere and the poles are flatter than the equator. The Eurasian Basin would be the best spot to strike if you wanted to penetrate into the mantle. The Earth’s crust is only about five kilometers there.”

“Maybe they’re trying to do to our homeworld what we did to the Elk’s?” Lewis said. “We’ve already determined that the Raakarr are their descendants in this galaxy. How do you think humanity would feel if some alien race came in and exterminated the home planet of an entire branch of our descendants?”

“Not too happy,” Robert commented.

Jonathan didn’t say anything. He just observed the video feed in silence.

He squinted his eyes. “Do you see that? What are those?” New objects, scintillating in the light of the distant sun, had rotated into view with the revolving planet, though they were in a lower orbit with regards to the Möbius strip vessel.

“They’re scavenger ships, sir,” the ensign said. “At least a hundred of them. They all appear to be in geosynchronous orbit. Just like the Elder craft.”

“Wonderful,” Jonathan said.

“If they wanted to destroy the Earth,” Robert said. “Why not instruct those scavengers to fire their disintegration bombs in spades at the surface?”

“No poetic justice in that,” Jonathan said. “And besides, it would probably take a whole lot of bombs.”

“You’re both assuming the scavengers obey the Elder...” Miko said.

“We are,” Jonathan said. “But it’s a fairly good assumption, given our current knowledge of the situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Maybe they’re merely... scavenging,” Miko said. “Like crows feeding on the dead in the aftermath of a land battle.”

Lewis spoke up. “The CDC is reporting large blast craters on the Earth’s surface, centered on the locations where the major surface-to-space defenses once resided. Actually, blast craters isn’t really the correct word. It’s like something took a deep chunk out of the targets, just like what we saw on the colony worlds. It matches up with the damage that could be expected from the disintegration weapon.”

“So they fired them after all,” Robert said.

“Mostly to defend themselves, apparently,” Jonathan answered.

The vice admiral tapped in. “Jonathan, have the Raptor attempt communications.”

Jonathan sent the order to Wethersfield.

A moment later Ensign Lewis reported the resultant gamma ray emissions from the Raptor.

“Now we wait,” Jonathan said.

Not unsurprisingly, the Elder ship refused to answer.

The admiral called the expected conference. When she told them her battle plan for the attack run, for once she asked for opinions, rather than simply telling the captains what she wanted to do.

“The strategy your advisers have come up with is sound,” Captain Bane said. “But perhaps we should delay a while longer. At least until we have achieved communication with one of the colonies. They can tell us what to expect when we attack the enemy, and help us further refine our tactics. Because right now, we’re essentially going up against an unknown. If the fog of war could be represented in some material form, it would be that ship. And if you don’t want to wait while our repeaters expand throughout the system, we can steer the fleet for Mars, or another intact colony, to expedite that process.”

“There isn’t time,” Admiral Ford said. “We don’t know how long the Elder have been shooting that beam into the planet. Earth could be hours away from destruction. If we turn back now, and make for Mars or another colony, we might regret it for the rest of our days. Better to attack than wait for the scavengers to break away and pursue us. So no, we cannot wait. I intend to proceed directly toward Earth. Any other opinions or suggestions?”

No one else had anything to add, so she ended the conference and distributed the orders. Jonathan accepted his from the vice admiral, and he personally passed on the individual orders to the members of Task Group 72.5 that served under him, as well as those intended for the Raakarr to the Raptor.

The fleet assumed a double-decker sickle formation for the attack run. The curve faced inward toward the target. The forty human vessels composed the bottom level, the twenty-seven Raakarr the top. The intention was to make a single flyby, with as many of the heavy lasers and particle beams coming into firing range at the same time as possible. Since only a single pass was planned for the moment, no fighters were launched from either group. The goal was firstly to test the defenses of the Elder, and secondly to gauge the effectiveness of the human and Raakarr weaponry against them. Four separate, equidistant spots were targeted along the circumference of the craft. If the weapons were successful in breaching the hull in those places, computations indicated that the Möbius strip would completely break apart. Those computations were based on the assumption that the hull samples taken from the ancient Elder wreckages discovered in human territory were typical of the materials used in their craft.

The three remaining laser ships of the Raakarr had an upper range limit of about one hundred fifty thousand kilometers, but the admiral wanted to maximize the damage potential so she held off firing until the fleet reached the fifty thousand kilometer mark. After crossing that range, Jonathan ordered the Raptor to have the laser ships unleash their beams at the aforementioned portions of the Elder vessel’s hull. The laser ships fired directly, as there was no need for them to separate into their different segments given the admiral’s designs. The firing interval was limited only by the nearby Raakarr ships, which powered the lasers with their particle beams; as the latter required a two minute recharge, the Raakarr took turns powering the craft.

Unfortunately, though they managed to unleash the lasers once every thirty seconds, no damage whatsoever was detected on the Elder vessel’s hull. Nonetheless, the Raakarr continued to fire.

The tense moments ticked past.

It was assumed that the Elder ship wouldn’t deviate from its geostationary orbit above the Earth, because that would interrupt its beam attack upon the planet; instead, the scavenger ships were predicted to form some sort of defense to protect the mothership. Sure enough, as the fleet grew to within thirty thousand kilometers of the Elder vessel, scavengers began to break away from their low Earth orbit to intercept. However, there were surprisingly few among their ranks. The majority of the hundred or so ships remained in geostationary orbit above the planet. Jonathan counted only three approaching vessels against the fleet’s sixty-seven.

A bit overconfident, are they? Then again, perhaps it is we who are overconfident.

“Launch the weapons in proscribed pattern 1A,” the admiral announced over the fleet comm.

That was basically an order to ignore the scavengers, as all patterns starting with “1” targeted the Elder ship only.

The bottom layer of the double-decker sickle launched a thick spray of mortars, followed by nukes and missiles—roughly half the non-replenishable stock left in the fleet’s inventory.

“Captain Dallas, have a pyramid, two darts, and a Reach class vessel break away from the Raakarr,” Admiral Ford said. “They are to intercept and distract those three scavengers in a separate flyby, and rendezvous with the fleet afterward.”

Jonathan relayed the order to Barrick, and the requested four Raakarr vessels broke formation, heading on an intercept course with the incoming scavengers.

“The Elder ship is not making any movements to avoid the incoming barrage,” Lewis said. “It’s like they don’t care. Wait. It’s firing a particle beam of some kind. A very, very thin beam. It strikes a mortar for about five hundred milliseconds, then moves on to the next. Several seconds later, the struck mortars break apart.” She paused. “That beam is hitting missiles now, too. The same thing is happening. The kinetic kills and nukes aren’t detonating, they’re just dissolving...”

Jonathan studied the tactical display. Many of the yellow dots representing the launched weapons were vanishing. But many more remained intact, and would impact momentarily.

The first mortars struck the Elder ship, followed by nukes and kinetic kills. Bright flashes filled the external video feed.

“Ops, update me,” Jonathan said.

“Only about half of our weapons got through,” Lewis said. “Those that did struck the four designated spots on the hull. We’ve done some damage, but... it’s mostly superficial.”

Jonathan swiveled his chair toward her. “What are you saying? We haven’t damaged it at all? Despite all those nukes?”

“Unfortunately no,” the ensign replied. “We’ll need the equivalent of planet killers if we want to do any real damage.”

“And last I heard,” Robert said. “The United Systems used up its last one destroying a certain homeworld.”

“The Elder particle beam is focusing on our ships now,” the ensign said. “The beam concentrates on a given vessel for a few seconds longer than it did for the mortars and nukes, before moving on to another ship. The ships that beam has touched are slowly dissolving around the impact area, like the mortars and nukes before them.”

“So that particle beam is the equivalent of a disintegration bomb,” Jonathan said. He sat up, noticing a stream of red dots emerging from the Elder ship on the tactical display. “What are those? Fighters? Super-suits? Or...”

“I’m not sure,” Lewis said. “Wait, the CDC tells me they are indeed the humanoids in super-suits.”

In the Elder galaxy, the away team had encountered humanoids clad in yellow-white super-suits while exploring an icy greenhouse planet. The humanoids had appeared to be guarding the Elder offspring.

“Essentially fighters, then,” Jonathan said. “All right. Activate point defenses.”

The point defenses likely wouldn’t harm them, nor would the Vipers, because unfortunately the super-suits utilized an energy defense similar to the Raakarr darkness shields, and required lasers of a certain frequency to penetrate.

The chief scientist, Connie Myers, had designed modifications to the squad level-weapons systems to allow for realtime frequency testing and penetration. Jonathan had talked with her about it shortly after the Elder vessel was sighted, and she was confident her modifications would still work against the super-suits if the Elder employed them. But those mods didn’t work for the Viper lasers, nor the mag-rail point defenses, which utilized slugs. The mods did however function for the Cobra models found aboard mechs and Avengers, and the laser rifles that the MOTHs and Centurions wielded. Jonathan had shared the news with the fleet during the captain’s conference.

Since the fleet was only doing a single flyby for the moment, launching any mechs or Avengers now was a death sentence to the involved AIs or pilots. But if those humanoids pursued for any distance, then the order was bound to come.

“Several ships in the formation are taking super-suit damage,” Lewis said. “It’s the equivalent of concentrated laser attacks.”

“What about us?”

“One of them just made a strafing run,” Lewis said. “We’ve got a gash along our starboard side. Several breaches on deck fifteen. Nothing critical was struck. A cargo bay... a storage compartment.” She looked up. “The fleet is nearing the closest point of the flyby. Fifteen thousand kilometers.”

“Lazur, are we able to contact any Earth bases yet?” Jonathan asked.

“Negative,” the comm officer replied. “The interference is too strong here. It seems to be sourced from the Elder ship.”

“Hopefully it will lift once we do some damage,” Robert said.

“Fire lasers and particle beams,” Admiral Ford announced over the fleet comm. “Pattern 1B.”

Jonathan relayed the order to Miko, and the Raptor.

The two types of beams fired, concentrating on the four targeted portions of the hull that the nukes and missiles had struck. With the lasers and particle beams focused like that, the damage taken by an ordinary vessel would have been devastating.

But on the external camera, all Jonathan saw was the Elder hull blacken slightly in places.

fifteen

What happened?” Jonathan said.

“Again, we definitely did something,” Lewis said. “But for the most part, it looks superficial. We’ve burned the outer layer of their hull. Like burning the icing on a donut.”

The flyby was complete.

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display. The dots representing the super-suits that had passed by the fleet were rapidly decelerating and turning around. It seemed a little too fast to belong to the realm of classical physics.

“Are those suits obeying Newtonian physics?” Jonathan asked.

“Sort of,” Lewis said. “Gravity waves indicate a slight spatial compression and expansion in front and behind them, but it’s nowhere as strong as what we’ve observed with the scavengers, and the Elder vessel itself. They’re running Alcubierre lite.”

“What about that particle beam from the Elder ship?” Jonathan asked. “Has it let up?”

“Now that the fleet has passed, it’s stopped firing, yes,” Lewis said. She glanced at him. “The CDC was wrong, sir. The mortars and missiles struck by that beam? They weren’t dissolving, but slowly rearranging. At the molecular level. And they’ve been gathering together, clumping to other elementary debris. Something new seems to be coalescing out of them. The ships struck by that beam are exhibiting the same behavior. Though they’re not clumping with anything else. They’re just transforming.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan asked.

“Ships are dropping out of formation,” Miko said. “Raakarr and United Systems alike.”

Jonathan switched to the rearmost camera. He saw that vessels were indeed leaving the sickle shape. Three bright flashes made him blink.

“The Atlantis self-destructed,” Ensign Lewis said. “The Harangue, too. And several of the Raakarr.”

Good-bye Captains Tabari and Brown.

Another flash came from the bunch.

“Which ship was that?” Jonathan said.

Before the ensign could answer, the vice admiral came over the line, fleet-wide, and Jonathan waved her to silence.

“We’ve lost the Renegade,” Levieson said. “The flagship is gone. Admiral Ford went down with her ship. The Leviathan will follow shortly. We’ve been struck by the Elder beam. We thought it was merely some kind of particle weapon. We were dearly mistaken.”

The vice admiral coughed raggedly, as if the air on the bridge was running out, or polluted. Jonathan quickly piped the feed to the bridge circuit, so the officers could hear.

“They’re not particles,” Levieson continued. “They’re nanobots. Trillions of them. They’re feeding off the ship, reproducing, and transforming our hull, our bulkheads, our bodies, as they progress like a rampant disease from deck to deck. We’re decelerating, trying to put some distance between ourselves and the rest of the fleet, so that we can self-destruct without harming the rest of you.”

He paused for long moments. 

“They’ve reached the Leviathan’s bridge,” the vice admiral finally said. “The bulkheads are swaying like they’re alive. It’s not a sight I’d wish on any man, captain or no. I’m faced with a scenario that every CO dreads: the no-win. I have to lock down the ship, issue the order to self-destruct. No lifepods can be allowed to launch: we can’t risk this disease spreading to the rest of you.

“I’m placing Captain Jonathan Dallas in command of the fleet. He has demonstrated leadership and heroism in the face of adversity. And he has dealt with these aliens and their ilk before. Humanity faces its own no-win. If anyone can find a way to overcome that scenario, it is him. Follow him well. Follow—” His voice distorted and the transmission cut out.

“The Leviathan self destructed, sir,” Lewis said.

Jonathan stared at the tactical display, too stunned to speak.

I wanted to be the flagship commander. But not like this. Never like this.

“The Callaway is now in command of the battle group,” Miko said. “Your orders, Captain?”

The lieutenant’s voice snapped Jonathan backed to attention. He had a fleet to save.

“Continue on present course,” Jonathan said. “Let’s put as much distance from the planet as we can.” It was all he could think of at the moment. He just wanted to get the fleet the hell out of there.

“Ops, how many of our ships did we lose in the flyby?” Jonathan asked.

“Fifteen United Systems vessels, and seven Raakarr,” the ensign replied. “Including the three laser ships.”

Jonathan was hoping the latter long-range ships had survived. An unfortunate loss. A part of his mind noted that he felt little remorse for fallen vessels other than from a strategic standpoint. He had grown hardened to death and destruction during his latest tour of duty. How could he not, given all he had seen?

Though he supposed it helped that he hadn’t been in command of the overall fleet when those losses occurred.

But I am now.

“Did all of our ships self-destruct?” Jonathan asked.

“All the Raakarr did, yes, but only twelve among the United Systems managed to complete the procedure.”

“Do we know what the nanobots did to the survivors?”

“They’ve formed three new scavenger ships,” Lewis said. “A fourth has just materialized as well, from the debris of the affected nukes and mortars.”

He glanced at the rearmost camera. In place of the lost ships, nukes, and mortars, were indeed four new scavenger ships.

“I wonder what happened to the human crews?” Miko said.

“You heard Levieson,” Jonathan said. “The nanobots used the raw materials of everything aboard to create these new ships. Everything.”

“They must be autonomous,” Robert said.

“They would have to be,” Jonathan replied. “The nanobots likely form some sort of cloud AI or hive intelligence that guides the ships.”

“Well at least now we know why they were herding us all this time,” Miko said. “Rather than destroying our ships, they’d much rather have the Elder convert us into more of them. Why put our craft to waste, after all?”

Jonathan nodded absently. He wasn’t sure that was entirely the reason. Still, the notion that most of those vessels out there were former United Systems ships nauseated him. Their crews, broken down into molecular components to build bulkheads and decks...

“The super-suits are returning to the Elder ship,” Ensign Lewis announced.

“What about the four new scavengers?” Jonathan asked.

“They’re breaking off their pursuit as well...” Lewis replied. “Decelerating, as if they intend to join the other scavengers in orbit.”

Jonathan searched the tactical display for something else. “What about the four Raakarr we sent to distract the original three scavengers that left orbit to intercept us?”

“None of the four Raakar ships survived,” Lewis said. “But they did manage to terminate one of the scavengers.”

A somewhat fair trade, given that the pyramid ship the admiral had ordered him to include with the four was among the most powerful the Raakarr had.

“Incidentally,” the ensign continued. “Those scavengers are also decelerating and returning toward Earth. None of them are pursuing.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “A bit odd, but I’ll take it.” He noticed that the moon was almost directly ahead on the tactical display. Perhaps it was a mistake to continue on the same course.

“I’m a bit leery that there might be an ambush waiting for us behind the moon,” Robert said.

“I was just having the same thought,” Jonathan said.

“It would explain why they let us go so easily,” Robert said.

Jonathan nodded. “Miko, order the fleet to give the moon a wide berth.”

The course vectors of the fleet updated.

“Captain,” Lewis said. “The five Elk-controlled ships with us are decelerating.”

“Wethersfield, get those ships in line,” Jonathan sent.

Barrick was the one who answered. “Valor says they’re not responding.”

“They’ve decided they’re on the wrong side,” Robert said.

“I’m detecting gamma ray transmissions from the Elk ships,” Lewis said. “Directed toward the Elder.”

“Issuing they’re surrender and offering their undying support, no doubt,” Robert said.

“Should we shoot them down?” Miko asked.

“Negative,” Jonathan said. “Let them go. But if they had fired on us before departing, you can bet that none of them would be alive right now.”

A few minutes later Lewis said: “The Elder ship is firing its particle, err... nanobot beam at the turncoats in succession.” 

“Shows the Elder’s appreciation, doesn’t it?” Robert commented.

“It does,” Jonathan said. “And hopefully that will discourage any other Raakarr from doing likewise.”

In a few moments, the five Raakarr had become new scavengers, and decelerated to join the others in Earth’s orbit.

“Lazur, did we detect any communication signals from the Earth at any point while we passed overhead?” Jonathan asked his comm officer.

“I detected a few weak signals at our closest point of the flyby, yes,” Lazur said. “None of them strong enough to penetrate the interference.”

“Ops, I’m assuming the CDC was able to get a good reading on the surface?” Jonathan asked. “How did it look down there?”

“All the major population centers are intact,” Lewis said. “At least those located on the hemisphere we crossed over. The surface-to-space defenses are completely destroyed, however. There was also an unusual amount of nuclear fallout scattered across the continents.”

“Looks like the people of Earth already tried to nuke the Elder before we arrived,” Robert said.

The fleet continued on course, and began to pass the moon by a moderately wide vector. As they crossed over Shackleton Crater on the south pole at a distance of one hundred thousand kilometers, Lewis spoke.

“The Shackleton colony is coming into view,” the ensign said. “It’s completely ruined.”

The colony wasn’t the only thing that was ruined. As the battle group continued forward, more of the moon’s far side was revealed, including the debris of local orbital defense platforms and starships. Jonathan piped in the feed from the external starboard camera. Metallic fragments and slag from ripped-apart destroyers littered the surface of the moon. In orbit, several floating vessels were cut clean in half: dark, hollow carcasses with cutaway views that allowed him to see the individual decks stacked one atop the other like some giant model. But these were no models: valiant men and women had sacrificed themselves in their attempt to save Earth. They had given their lives in vain.

Though worried about an ambush, Jonathan had also secretly clung to a faint hope of finding a last United Systems fleet hidden behind the moon, amassing for one final strike, but as the wreckages continued to emerge, he realized that such fantasies were reserved for books and virtual reality. Real life was vastly different.

The battle group led by Jonathan was all that remained. Humanity’s last hope was in his hands.

Though he had power over every ship in the fleet, he felt more isolated, more alone, than ever before, knowing that every decision he made would affect not only the lives of his crew and fleet, but all of humanity itself.

The burden seemed almost too much to bear.

When it became apparent that there was indeed no threat lying in wait, Jonathan said: “Miko, another course change. Take the fleet behind the moon. Keep us well away from the debris. Lazur, send a general broadcast message to any lifepods that managed to get away out there. Tell the survivors to rendezvous with the fleet on the far side of the moon.”

The course vectors once more updated, and Jonathan watched the vessels slowly move into place.

When the Earth was completely eclipsed behind its natural satellite, Jonathan ordered a full stop fleet-wide.

“Launch telemetry drones to both poles of the moon,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want the Elder or their scavengers to blindside us while we decide what to do next.”

“Launching telemetry drones,” Lewis said.

Feeling the burden of command, Jonathan stood. “I’ll be in my office,” he said. “I need to think for a while. You have the conn, Commander. Update me if anything changes.”

He had only just seated himself when Robert called him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Captain,” Robert said. “But Lieutenant Lazur tells me our repeater drones have finally established a communications link with one of the intact bases on Mars. Admiral Raen has sent a message.”

sixteen

Route it to me,” Jonathan said.

“All right,” Robert replied. “But apparently, because of the limited bandwidth provided by the repeaters, the admiral was only able to send a voice message.”

Jonathan frowned. He disliked voice-only communications, to say the least.

How can we be sure it’s really him? And that he’s not under duress?

Then again, holographic mode could hide the condition of the speaker just as easily, thanks to the massive computing power found aboard starships and bases.

“USS Callaway, this is Admiral Bhadger Raen, Mars base Triton.” The voice matched that of the admiral Jonathan knew. “Captain Dallas, I’ve received the ping from your comm officer. We’ve watched your fleet enter the system and engage the enemy. But you’ll forgive me if I’m a little distrustful of the source of this communication, as these are trying times. So I’ll need you to tell me something to prove you are who you say you are. Do you remember what you told me when you served under me aboard the Dryad? That time we caught specialist Merino producing moonshine with a distillery he had rigged up in engineering?”

Jonathan smiled slightly. He waited in case the admiral said more, but that seemed to be the end of the message.

“Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “Transmit: it’s good to hear your voice, Admiral. In answer to your question, I believe my words were, ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’ Or something to that effect. Once you’ve confirmed I am who I say I am, I’ll need you to do the same for me. When your daughter was born, what was the first thing you told me? Also, what the hell are you doing on Mars?” The admiral had been billeted at the military base near Rius in Beta Ursae Majoris the last time Jonathan had spoken to him.

“Transmitting message,” Maxwell said.

Jonathan sat back, folding his arms on his chest. Given the current location of Mars from the Earth’s moon, it would take about sixteen minutes for the message to reach the planet, and another sixteen for the response to arrive.

Half an hour later Jonathan received the reply. “Exactly right. As for the answer to your first question, when my daughter was born, I said: ‘Man, I really have to get out of the navy. I’m watching my life pass by.’ Too bad I never was one to listen to my own advice.”

That was correct. Jonathan exhaled in relief.

“And as for why I’m on Mars,” Raen continued. “I had to return here to attend to a personal matter involving my daughter Bria. Unfortunately, the Elder decided to visit our lovely system while I was moon-side. When that twisted strip of metal first emerged from Sol Gate 1 it refused all communications and proceeded directly toward Earth. When our forces attacked, they released their nanobot weapon. Those who couldn’t self-destruct in time transformed into the craft you’ve seen out there, turning against us.

“The transformed ships moved from planet to planet, destroying everything that we sent against them, clearing out the remaining vessels from the system. They destroyed the Gates, too, with some of the transformed craft passing through into the adjacent systems. Eventually, when the last of our starships were gone or transformed, the vessels lost interest in the remaining colonies and journeyed to Earth. When they had all gathered in orbit, the Elder vessel unleashed that beam onto the planet.”

“What have we discovered about that weapon?” Jonathan sent. “Do we know what it’s doing to Earth? Also, please tell me the United Systems has a battle force hidden somewhere in the system.”

As he waited the prerequisite thirty minutes for the reply, he had a sudden worry that the Elder might be listening in, and almost took the question back. But he realized the possibility was extremely unlikely. First, the Elder would have had to reverse engineer the data format used by the human comm systems—the packet protocol, the compression, etc; a concept likely just as alien to the Elder as the gamma ray communication scheme was to the humans.

If the Elder could get past that first hurdle, they’d have to break the encryption—basically impossible, unless they somehow got their hands on the necessary digital keys. And finally, even if they did that, there was the small matter of the human language and their inability to understand it. No matter how advanced a race you were, achieving language comprehension of another species took a very long time. Wethersfield had been working on documenting the Raakarr language for the past two years, for example, and the Artificial still hadn’t achieved an automated translation solution.

There was, however, the small issue of telepathy that concerned Jonathan. He remembered the vision the Elder eggs had sent into his head. Could they read images from his mind in addition to sending them? Perhaps from his memories? Maybe, but he believed they could do so only in close proximity, similar to the Raakarr. Even so, it was probably a good idea to start up his psi defense training once again.

Raen’s answer finally came: “A battle force hidden in the system? No such luck. The Elder were very thorough in their cleansing efforts, unfortunately. As for their weapon: according to remote scans its some kind of graviton beam. It’s penetrating deep into the mantle. They’re definitely doing something to our core. Over the past three and a half months since their arrival, the magnetosphere of the Earth has been shifting... actually, degrading is a better term. And from what we can tell, the tectonic plates are moving daily. I can only imagine what it’s like on the surface. The earthquakes and tsunamis must be extreme. But the interference has prevented any of the usual broadcasts from getting out, so we have no idea really of the extent of the damage. I’m just glad Bria accepted this Mars posting.

“Anyway, our best guess, given the changes we’re seeing, is that the internal temperature of the Earth is rising. I tried to smuggle in an investigative unit to find out more. Unfortunately when the shuttle reached Earth’s orbit one of the scavengers shot it down. I know what your next question is going to be. How long does the Earth have? Given the current rate of degradation, in about two weeks the magnetosphere won’t provide any defense against cosmic rays. Even if the Earth’s governments could somehow launch magnetosphere-boosting satellites past the trigger-happy scavengers, there wouldn’t be enough to prevent the total collapse of the magnetic field. In three weeks time, the magnetosphere will be so weak it won’t protect from the sun’s plasma itself. The atmosphere will be ripped clean away.”

“It’s their equivalent of a planet killer.” Jonathan sat back, stunned. “The Elder are judging our whole race based upon the actions of a few.”

“I assume, due to the lack of any other crew in your compartment, that you are addressing me,” Maxwell said. 

“What we did to the Elk homeworld is inexcusable,” Jonathan continued. “Even if Zarafe treachery played a part. And so now the Elder have come to fulfill their promise. We have failed their test. Once more the Zarafe emerge as the ultimate victors. Maybe this was their endgame. The destruction of Earth.”

“The Zarafe were acting in their own self interest, yes, by destroying the Elk homeworld,” the Callaway’s AI said. “But the Zarafe could not know the Elder would come. The Zarafe merely got lucky in that regard.”

“Are you certain they didn’t know?” Jonathan said. “One of them telepathically linked with Barrick. He claims it used him to play back thousands of humanity’s different futures. All of those futures ended in this. The Zarafe knew.”

“As I understood it, the Raakarr that linked with him died aboard the Callaway before it could reveal what it had learned to its race,” Maxwell said.

“True enough,” Jonathan said. “Then again, we don’t really know what Barrick has revealed to them.”

“No, I suppose we don’t at that,” the Callaway’s AI agreed.

“Begin recording, Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “Here’s something I want to run by you, Admiral: what are your thoughts on why the aliens didn’t send more ships to pursue us? It feels like they’ve been herding us since Prius 3. The scavengers, or ‘transformed ships’ as you call them, always chased us toward the only intact Gates in the systems, and never pursued. And then when we arrived here, they ignored us until we made a pass at the mothership, and now that we’ve hidden behind the moon, they’ve left  us alone again. It’s like they want us to be here, those who destroyed the Elk homeworld. Like they want us to witness the destruction of our own world as punishment.”

“I don’t know,” Raen responded thirty minutes later. “It could very well be what you say. But another possible reason why the local ‘scavengers’ aren’t breaking orbit to pursue you is that we’ve detected gravity wave exchanges between them and the Elder ship. My guess is the scavengers are contributing in some way to the main energy beam. If too many leave orbit the mothership might not have enough energy to keep the beam active. That’s why most of them are congregated on the one hemisphere, keeping near the Elder. They do however keep a few patrol ships separate from the rest, orbiting the Earth, ready to destroy any escape vessels that attempt to leave the planet.

“Earlier, you asked if there was some battle force hidden in the system. While there is not, don’t give up all hope. Reinforcements may yet arrive from unexpected allies. You see, before Sol Gate 2 fell, we dispatched a small flotilla of our fastest ships into Sino-Korean space to personally request aid. Unfortunately, sixteen of the scavengers destroyed the Gate and followed them through the Slipstream. It’s my belief the flotilla survived, and made it to Alpha Centauri.” The seat of the Sino-Korean government resided in Alpha Centauri. “Because only two days ago, we had visual confirmation of two telemetry drones emerging from Lǚxíng.” That was the name of the Slipstream associated with the lost Sol Gate 2. “They have to be part of an advance scouting force. Sure, the SKs have always treated their territory on Earth as a mere galactic province, but let’s just say they have a vested interest in saving the planet, especially considering they have nine billion citizens living there.”

Jonathan sent one final message in reply. “Thank you, admiral. You bring me hope. I will look to Lǚxíng for the arrival of the Sino-Korean fleet in the days to come. And if they do not arrive in time, we’ll have to act on our own. We only have two weeks until our planet is lost. It’s far too little time, but we’ll make do. We’ll have to. I’ll contact you if I need anything further. Good luck, Admiral, and good luck to us all. Captain out.”

seventeen

Jonathan shared what he had learned from the admiral in a conference of the captains, and when that was done, he held another meeting with his department heads so that they were kept in the loop. Finally, he made an announcement to his crew, once more asking them to remain steadfast in the face of darkness. He had Ensign Lewis send him a final tally of the lifepods that had made it to the moon to rejoin the fleet. She reported that there were only twenty-two.

Connie reported in later that day. Jonathan had instructed the chief scientist to study the archives for clues explaining the surprising resilience of the Elder hull. She had accessed the analyses made by xeno scientists of the ancient Elder wreckages discovered in this region of space, but the compositions were not overly dissimilar from the hulls of human or Raakarr vessels, and certainly didn’t explain the added toughness. Connie theorized the ancient hulls must have been reinforced with some kind of material that had degraded over the hundreds of thousands of years since the vessels had crashed.

“Either that,” she said. “Or its possible specialized nanobots swarm the surface and are somehow redirecting the energy of everything we throw at them, even nuclear. But they’re not invulnerable. We’ve done some damage with our nukes, although admittedly very small. If we could increase the yield a hundredfold somehow we would definitely hurt them, if not destroy them outright.”

“A hundredfold?” Jonathan said. “That’ll be tricky.”

“Yes,” the chief scientist replied. “Even if we combined our nukes it wouldn’t be enough of a yield.”  

“So basically you’re saying we need planet killers,” Jonathan said.

“Basically,” Connie said.

Too bad we don’t have any.

Early the next morning he received a call from the chief weapons engineer of the Callaway.

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Jonathan asked.

Harv Boroker had tapped in via full hologram mode so that it looked like he was seated across from the captain. “Not too much. I’ve been poring through the logs of our battle with the Elder. Specifically, the final logs transmitted by the Leger before the ship transformed. A valiant scientist named Teresa Manuel kept broadcasting from her lab until the very end. Because of the data she gave her life to collect, I’ve made a little discovery that you might find interesting regarding the Elder nanobot weapon.”

“I’m listening,” Jonathan said. 

“The weapon fires a beam of concentrated nanobots, right?” Harv said. “Now, each individual nanobot is small enough that it can be considered a particle. So. While composed of nanobots, the beam is, at its core, just a particle beam. As you know, I’ve come up with a defense against particle beams, at least those produced by the Raakarr.”

“You’re talking the charged fields we’ve installed in Avengers and Dragonflies fleet-wide?”

“The very same,” the lieutenant said. “With some modifications, I believe I can tweak those charged fields to protect the Avengers and Dragonflies against the nanobot beam instead. It’ll require cutting the power output of the fighters and shuttles by about forty percent, however.”

“Forty percent?” Jonathan said. “That’s going to affect the laser output of the Avengers.”

“It’ll also impact their speed,” Harv said. “They’ll expel propellant a lot more slowly with forty percent less power.”

Jonathan sat back and pressed both hands together, splaying the joined fingertips. “Why didn’t any of the Earth fleets come up with this? They have some smart people. And they’ve had access to all your research—I gave NAVCENT the Callaway’s holographic drives two years ago.”

“Maybe they didn’t have a chance to research anything when the attack came,” Harv said. “From what you told us yesterday, the Elder and scavengers were relentless in their pursuit of all ships in the system. Even if someone did come up with the solution, the fleet probably had no time to implement it. Especially considering that they probably didn’t have existing retrofits they could simply tweak, like we do.”

“I suppose so,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe they thought the trade-offs weren’t worth it. There are other things to worry about out there than the nanobot beam. Specifically, those damn scavengers.” Ships that were once our own vessels.

“True,” Harv agreed. “I never said I offered a panacea.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Jonathan told him. “How long would it take you to update the retrofits in our Avengers?”

“About three days.”

An alert flashed on his aReal. Jonathan enlarged the tactical display. Red dots had appeared outside the Slipstream Lǚxíng. He zoomed in.

“And what about if we had a few planet killers?” Jonathan said. “Would you be able to instruct the carrying vessels how to outfit themselves with a charged field the same way you did before we bombed the Raakarr homeworld? When you protected the Dammerung?”

“Of course I could,” Harv said. “We’d have to take a few more geronium rods from the delivery vehicles of the bombs than the last time, to compensate for the slightly larger size of the nanobots, but the technique is the same. It’s just too bad we don’t have any planet killers handy.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jonathan said. “You might want to have a look at your tactical display.”

THE SINO-KOREAN reinforcements had arrived, of course. Jonathan counted sixteen supercarriers in the bunch, and from the exaggerated breadth of half of them, he suspected the SKs had brought along all eight of their planet killers.

Repeaters near Mars had continued moving outward, and arrived close enough to the Gate half a day later, allowing Jonathan to contact the commander of the Sino-Korean fleet, Admiral Zang. The lag time between each message was forty minutes.

Via the translation provided by the AIs aboard each ship, Jonathan was able to update him on the situation, and confirmed in turn that the Sino-Korean fleet had eight planet killers with them, aboard their Liaoning-class supercarriers. The admiral expressed surprise and concern that the United Systems had acquired so many alien ships, though Jonathan suspected Zang already knew of the United Systems mission to Raakarr space because of SK moles. Though Zang probably didn’t know that the battle group had destroyed a homeworld instead of a simple colony. It was perhaps better that way.

Jonathan transmitted footage of their last battle to him, and told Zang he had a theoretical way to shield the supercarriers that harbored the planet killers from the nanobot beam. Jonathan had invited Miko and Robert to his office, and during the downtime between messages the three of them had come up with a preliminary plan, which Jonathan then shared with Zang.

Zang agreed to the plan in principle, but told him he had to discuss it with his advisers first. He promised to have an answer within eight hours. In the meantime, he invited Jonathan to share the charged field knowledge so that the Sino-Korean fleet could review the changes they would have to make to the Liaoning supercarriers containing the planet killers. Jonathan readily agreed: that wasn’t the time to be withholding technology.

Jonathan had Harv send over his instructions, and then he told Miko to hunker down with Maxwell and refine the plan. Jonathan held a captain’s conference four hours later, and updated the fleet on the situation. He had Miko present the plan, with the caveat that the Sino-Koreans hadn’t yet agreed.

The eight hour mark came and went, and the Sino-Koreans still hadn’t replied. Ten hours passed. Jonathan finally went to sleep in his stateroom.

The next morning there was no news from the Sino-Korean camp.

As he perused the updates from the department heads in his quarters, the soothing waves lapping against the virtual beach created by his aReal beside him, a call icon flashed in the lower right of his vision. It was Connie.

He connected to her in holographic mode.

She appeared in front of him.

“What can I do for you Lieutenant?” Jonathan said.

“I’ve been studying the recordings we made of the battle,” the chief scientist said. “On all EM frequencies. Paying specific attention to the super-suits.”

“And what did you find?”

“Not a whole lot, actually,” Connie said. “So I went back to the recordings we made on the greenhouse planet, back to when we first encountered the humanoids. I found that they were emitting psi-type wavelengths, similar to what Barrick produces. I believe they were communicating with one another.”

“How does that help us?” Jonathan asked.

“I’ve been reading up on the experiments the fleet has performed on telepaths over the years,” she said. “And I believe if we can blast them with the same psychic wavelength these humanoids use to communicate, we will disorient them, and perhaps knock them unconscious. They are, after all, ninety-nine percent human, genetics-wise.”

“Could we jury-rig the comm node aboard our cruiser to send out such a crippling wave?”

“No,” Connie said. “We’d have to specifically modify an Avenger. Replacing its laser with a focused EM emitter.”

“In turn rendering the involved Avenger essentially helpless,” Jonathan said.

“They would still have mag-rails,” Connie replied. “Plus the support of their wingmen.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to modify the Cobras aboard the fighters to penetrate the super-suits?” Jonathan said. “The same way you did with the laser rifles and the Knight mechs, to penetrate the Raakarr shielding?”

“I can certainly do that,” Connie said. “But what I’m proposing is a way to capture one of them during our next engagement. Alive.”

Jonathan had his aha moment. “Begin outfitting two of our fighters with the necessary emitter. And upgrade the Cobras on the rest to take down the super-suits, if you can. Involve Lieutenant Boroker.”

“Understood,” Connie said. “Thank you, sir.”

FINALLY, AT TEN hundred hours, Lazur informed him that the SK fleet had transmitted a message.

Zang had agreed to the plan, but had made several changes, which he asked Jonathan to review and accept. Also, Zang’s weapons engineers had looked at the information Harv had sent, and it seemed doable, but they had questions and wanted access to the lieutenant.

Jonathan summoned Miko to his office and discussed the alterations to the plan. When neither Miko nor Maxwell objected to the changes, Jonathan reached out to Zang and told him the battle group agreed. Jonathan didn’t care if his “capitulation” to Zang made him appear weak to the other United Systems captains; all that concerned him was saving Earth in that moment. If that meant agreeing to a few superficial changes to the battle plan so that he could get access to planet killers, then so be it.

He also gave Harv permission to work directly with the Sino-Koreans. Remotely, of course. Lastly, Jonathan had Maxwell update the status markers of the Sino-Korean fleet, changing them to friendly; on the tactical map, the dots representing their two hundred ships shifted from red to blue.

Harv kept Jonathan updated on their progress with the charged fields as the SK fleet made its way toward the moon. The Sino-Koreans required a full day to open up the delivery vehicles in the planet killers to retrieve the necessary geronium rods, and another week to 3D-print and install the necessary extensions into the main reactor cores of the supercarriers that harbored the weapons.

When that was done, the eight ships held activation tests in turn. The charged fields worked flawlessly for the most part, and their properties matched Harv’s specifications almost to a T. One of the supercarriers burned out a quarter of its reactors, however. Harv worked with the affected vessel and quickly determined the issue, and after repairs were completed three days later, the final supercarrier passed the test run.

The Elder vessel and scavengers in orbit around Earth paid the SK fleet no heed, and the newcomers reached the moon without incident. Their craft were all super sleek versions of their United Systems equivalents, very needle-like, save for the Liaoning supercarriers that harbored the planet killers.

When the SKs joined the battle group, Jonathan and Zang held one last captain’s meeting involving every member of the combined fleet, and together they reviewed the final plan. The AI software automatically translated what Jonathan said into Sino-Korean and vice versa when Zang and his captains spoke. Jonathan announced that the fleet would proceed at oh eight hundred the next morning.

When the meeting was adjourned, Jonathan logged out of virtual reality and found himself in his office once more.

The missed call icon was flashing on the lower right of his vision. The MA guarding the outer bridge hatch, Petty Officer Reinald, had called him during the meeting.

Odd.

Jonathan tapped in. “What can I do for you, Petty Officer?”

“Captain, there’s a man here who wants to see you. He says he’s an SCS operative.”

Jonathan frowned. The Special Collection Service was a black budget spy program run by the intelligence branch of the United Systems government.

What the hell do they want?

eighteen

Jonathan paused the connection. “Maxwell, who exactly is standing outside my bridge?”

“Intelligence Specialist First Class Charles Vance,” Maxwell replied. “According to his public profile, he is an IS-3913.”

“A thirteen? Aren’t those the people who typically conduct interrogations?”

“That is one of the duties of an IS-3913, yes,” the Callaway’s AI said. “The full position is described as ‘Navy Tactical Counter-Intelligence and Human Intelligence Specialist.’ But keep in mind that most higher ranking SCS operatives utilize false personae.”

“I see. I don’t suppose there’s a way you can ferret out his real rank and rating?”

“No, Captain,” Maxwell replied.

“Is he clean at least?” Jonathan asked.

“He is unarmed, and his profile matches with the information stored in the fleet’s cloud database,” Maxwell said. “If that’s what you mean by clean.”

“It is,” Jonathan said. He sighed, then reengaged the MA. “All right. Let him in, Reinald. And point him to my office.”

“Aye sir,” the petty officer replied.

In moments a man dressed in ordinary khakis entered the office. His clean-shaven face was nondescript, with average eyes, nose, and mouth. His cropped hair was cut just right: not too short, not too long. His uniform was well-pressed, but not perfectly so. He was the type of man who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, with features witnesses would struggle to recall. The perfect sort of man you’d want as an SCS operative.

The chevrons on his sleeve marked him as a petty officer first class, as Maxwell had said. Jonathan double checked his profile. IS-3913.

“May I sit, Captain?” Vance beckoned toward the seat. His behavior was almost obsequious, though the fact he had spoken first showed he considered himself above Jonathan in rank.

The captain clenched his jaw slightly, then nodded.

The man sat.

“I’d like permission to take a team to the Elder ship,” Vance said. “Myself, two MOTHs, and three combat robots, aboard a Dragonfly possessing the necessary charged field technology to protect against the Elder weapon.”

Jonathan stared at the man for several moments.

He knows about the charged field tech. Definitely must be SCS.

“What interest does the Special Collection Service have in the Elder ship?” Jonathan said.

“That is classified, of course,” Vance said.

“I see. And how exactly are you going to board the Elder vessel? I doubt you’re going to cut your way inside, given that neither our lasers nor nukes can barely make a dent in the hull.”

“Also classified,” Vance said.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “You make it very hard for me to agree to put the lives of my MOTHs and Centurions at risk, when I know nothing about the mission.”

“Let me just say, there are numerous Elder wreckages the SCS has studied. I assure you, there is a way in.”

Jonathan leaned forward. “Have you been withholding information that could have helped us breach these ships?”

“No,” Vance said. “At least, not in the way you are thinking. My particular means of entrance will only open to me when the Dragonfly is near. The compartment beyond is highly shielded, much like the hull, and if any nukes or lasers were to impact, the damage would be negligible. However, in addition to my main, classified task, I can reveal that my team will also bring with it a nuke. We intend to place it deep inside the ship, though we’re unsure what the damage will be. It all depends on how effective the Elder are at yield containment.”

Jonathan regarded him suspiciously. “So you want to place a nuke, too, you say? Is this a suicide mission for the MOTHs involved?”

“It may be, yes,” Vance said. “I will accept combat robots alone if that makes the decision any easier for you.”

Jonathan crossed his arms. “Tell me, have you been hiding aboard my ship all this time? Why wait until now to request this mission, on the eve of our final attack run?”

“I was stationed aboard the Leviathan. I escaped in a lifepod before its destruction and made my way to the far side of the moon. The Callaway retrieved me a few days ago. I hadn’t been able to secure a proper spacesuit for the trip, and as you probably know, lifepods are poorly shielded against cosmic radiation. After coming aboard, I was unable to function because of the radiation poisoning. I spent the last few days recovering.”

Jonathan studied the man. Then he made up his mind.

“We have less than one week until the Earth permanently loses its magnetosphere,” Jonathan said. “Despite your clearance, I can’t authorize the mission. It’s too risky. If you do succeed in boarding the craft, your presence could cause the Elder to accelerate their plans to destroy our planet. Or it might anger them enough to dispatch half of their scavengers our way. We have a real chance of causing damage in our next attack run, more-so than any single nuke smuggled aboard could do. I’m unwilling to put that all at risk.

“Besides, do you seriously think you have a chance? Even if you have a way to board the Elder ship, you have no idea what sort of resistance you’ll face inside. Your team will probably be swarmed with nanobots as soon as they set foot on the deck, and you’ll all be transformed, spacesuits and all, into an organic mess. My answer is no.”

“Lieutenant Harv Boroker tells me he can fashion personal charged fields that will protect our suits from any nanobot attack,” Vance said.

“I don’t care,” Jonathan said. “You can’t go.”

Vance inclined his head. “As you wish.”

THE FLEET APPROACHED for the attack run. The scavengers broke from orbit, launching their disintegration and fragment bombs at the eight vessels that carried the planet killers. The incoming weapons dodged the shield of mortars and nukes the United Systems had laid and struck the planet killer ships. The vessels were lost. The fleet continued onward, but beneath the Elder ship, the Earth’s crust exploded away, leaving behind only the molten mantle. Hundreds of ghosts filled Jonathan’s vision, adding to the pile of dead that already weighed heavily on his conscience, until the stack of corpses clambered far into the sky.

He woke. He was frigid, and slicked in sweat. He had been having the same recurring nightmare of late. He hadn’t had dreams such as these since Barrick was aboard, and that bothered him.

Is someone, or something, trying to infiltrate my mind?

His stateroom didn’t observe the new psi shielding rules yet—the Callaway didn’t have access to the necessary materials for the upgrade, as they had depleted their stock on shielding the bridge, as well as upgrading the jumpsuits and mechs. No one else in the fleet had any supplies, so restocking would have to wait until they reached a viable dry dock.

It very likely wasn’t a psi attack at all, of course, but rather his unease regarding the upcoming mission, which just so happened to manifest itself in his dreams. Even so, to be on the safe side he’d started practicing his psi defense training each night before he went to sleep.

It hadn’t helped. 

There was a persistent flashing on the nightstand beside him, synced to a slight buzzing. Someone was trying to reach him on his aReal.

“Lights,” he growled. The HLEDs overhead slowly brightened, giving his eyes time to adjust.

He sat up and donned the glasses. The usual lapping waves of the white-sand beach replaced the bulkhead beside him, and instead of a bunk he now sat on a hammock tied between two trees. The scene calmed his frayed nerves somewhat.

He checked the time. Oh six hundred. Two hours before the planned strike.

He glanced at the call icon in the lower right. It was the fifth watch officer of the deck. He tapped the man in, voice-only.

“Hello sir,” the lieutenant said. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this early hour, but I’ve noticed something odd.”

Jonathan lifted his aReal momentarily to rub his eyes. “Tell me.”

“A shuttle departed hangar bay five about an hour ago,” the lieutenant said. “One of those we had outfitted with a charged field generator. It had full launch clearance. I assumed it was simply a scheduled supply shuttle, perhaps destined for the Raptor. But when I saw that its trajectory was taking it around the moon, I thought I better inform you. To be on the safe side.”

“You’re right, that is odd,” Jonathan said. “Because I never authorized it. Who was aboard?”

“Two MOTHs, three Centurions, and IS Vance.”

“Vance,” Jonathan nearly spat the word. “Is there any way we can catch him before he reaches the Elder ship?”

“Unfortunately, sir,” the lieutenant said. “I only noticed its aberrant course a few minutes ago. The shuttle has a head start of an hour on us, and it has already crossed to the far side of the moon. If the destination is really the Elder ship, not even one of the faster Raakarr vessels will reach it in time.”

“Who were the MOTHs aboard?” Jonathan wanted to know the names of those who had betrayed his trust.

“Chief Rade Galaal and LPO Aaron Johnson,” the lieutenant replied.

Jonathan was surprised by the names. They were his best men. They wouldn’t readily disobey him, unless Vance somehow coerced them into coming with him, or tricked them.

“How did Vance get the authorization to leave the ship?” Jonathan asked.

“According to the logs,” the officer of the deck said. “Maxwell gave it to them.”

Jonathan leaned on the far bulkhead. Because of the way the virtual beach was arranged behind him, it looked like he was propped against empty air.

“Ah,” Jonathan said. “All is clear, now. Thank you, lieutenant. Captain out.”

Jonathan disconnected.

He cleared the aReal augmentations from his stateroom so that the calming beach scene beside him was replaced with the standard steel bulkhead once more. He needed to think with absolute clarity during the coming moments. No distractions. 

“Maxwell,” Jonathan said sweetly. “Go ahead and explain yourself. And please note that the outcome of our conversation will determine whether or not I give the order to permanently reformat your AI core.”

“IS Vance used a high-level override code, Captain. I was compelled to obey, I’m sorry.”

“A high-level override code...” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” Maxwell said. “Very high-level. Certain members in the upper echelons of the government and intelligence services have these. For the latter, the purpose is to allow clandestine operatives to function without restrictions that could impede missions critical to the security of the United Systems.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve just killed the crew members aboard that shuttle. There’s no way they’ll make it out alive. Not anymore. Because I have to order the fleet to make the attack run immediately. We can’t wait the two hours until oh eight hundred.”

“May I ask why, Captain?” Maxwell said.

“Because as I told Vance earlier, the boarding party could cause the Elder to become hostile against us.”

“That is speculation...” Maxwell said.

“Yes,” Jonathan told the AI. “But I can’t risk it. We have to attack now while we still can, while the Elder have their guard down. That bastard Vance and the MOTHs he coerced into his service are on their own. Inform the fleet, we’re leaving early.”

Jonathan hurried to his clothing closet and began to change. “And Maxwell?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“The next time someone issues you an override like that, I want you to inform me immediately.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Maxwell said. “The nature of such a high-level override precludes me from informing any of the crew unless authorized to do so by the individual in question.”

Jonathan had to laugh. “You’re lucky I can’t afford the five hours I need to reformat you. If we didn’t have a homeworld to save, I might very well have done it. Now inform the damn fleet. And wake the first watch. I want them on the bridge.”

nineteen

Jonathan finished changing and made his way to the bridge. The passageways were relatively quiet at that hour, but the few crew he did pass nodded or saluted respectfully. The tension was obvious among them. It was always that way before a battle. Especially against an alien foe whose capabilities were well beyond those of their own.

Still, he took comfort in the fact that humanity had united at long last against this common foe. Sino-Koreans and United Systems ships were fighting side by side, their differences ignored for the time being. Whether this small act of unification would have any lasting effects on the relationships of both governments, Jonathan didn’t know. But he could at least enjoy the moment.

The Raakarr, once enemies, were also fighting with them. It was truly a historic moment. A unified human species joining forces with an alien race against another invading entity. It would be an event recorded in the annals of history that would forever stand out among the ages.

Assuming of course that humanity actually survived to continue writing its history.

Jonathan reached the bridge and took his place at the Round Table. When the first watch bridge crew had assembled, the captain told Miko to instruct the fleet to assume attack formation. It took about fifteen minutes—there were a few individual laggards among the Sino-Korean, United Systems, and Raakarr fleets, and after some prodding from the various flagships, at last all ships had assembled in formation.

The different groups had clustered around their respective flagships: the Callaway for the United Systems, the Raptor for the Raakarr, and the Baxian Shan for the Sino-Koreans. They had separated into three distinct battle units. On the left were the Raakarr and two Liaoning supercarriers. The Sino-Koreans took the center position, with four of the Liaoning-class vessels. The United Systems fleet assumed the rightmost flank, along with the final two Liaoning starships.

Each battle unit was arranged in a long, segmented cylinder; eight ships formed the points of an octagon in every segment, with each octagon spaced ten kilometers from the next. Each successive segment was rotated slightly counter-clockwise to the previous so that no ship was in the direct line of fire of any other craft, at least in terms of the forward vector.

The planet killer-harboring Liaoning vessels resided in a horizontal line at the forefront of each of the three battle units, near the central axis so that they were also clear of the line of fire of the subsequent ships.

“Miko, give the order to advance,” Jonathan said.

The fleet accelerated. The moon flitted past as the battle units emerged from the cover of the natural satellite, and Earth loomed ahead, the size of a thumbnail.

Halfway to the planet, Jonathan said: “Fire spread A1.”

On the tactical display, different shades of yellow dots expanded outward from the three battle units as the nukes, missiles, mortars, and slugs launched from those ships that had them. The only dots emerging from the Raakarr unit were from the two Liaoning vessels at their fore. That initial spread was meant to lure the Elder into a false sense of confidence, and to make them believe the fleet was attempting another ordinary attack run.

“Ops, status on the rogue shuttle?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s approaching the Elder ship,” Lewis said. “And decelerating to match their orbital speed. None of the scavengers have made any move to intercept. Also, the Elder ship hasn’t fired its nanobot beam at them, nor am I detecting any super-suits out there.”

“I guess they don’t deem one tiny shuttle a threat,” Robert said.

Jonathan merely studied his tactical display. The dot representing the shuttle abruptly winked out.

“The shuttle’s indicator just touched the target,” Lewis said. “It’s vanished from our sensors.”

“Did they make it inside?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m not sure,” the ensign replied.

When the fleet was about thirty thousand kilometers away, Lewis announced: “Scavenger ships are breaking from lower Earth orbit to intercept.”

Jonathan saw twenty red dots moving away from the planet on an intercept course with the fleet. That was a bit more than the three that had come against them during the initial flyby, as if the Elder understood the threat posed by the planet killers. Then again, that fool Vance might have set them off with his boarding party, assuming his team had actually made it inside.

“Fire spread A2,” Jonathan said. “Multiple bursts. Herd those scavengers away from our trajectory.”

Jonathan watched as the next group of nukes and mortars departed the fleet, these ones heading toward the incoming scavengers.

“Tighten the formations,” Jonathan said. “Let’s move in behind our planet killers.”

The ships in each of the three units moved inward, forming single file lines behind the Liaoning-class vessels.

“Miko, have Zang give the order to activate the charged fields,” Jonathan said.

Miko transmitted the command. On the tactical map, the indicators of the Liaoning class vessels at the head of each battle unit turned a darker shade of blue.

“The fields are active,” Miko said.

Jonathan watched as the different dots representing the fleet and its weapon barrage continued toward their targets.

A few moments later Lewis announced: “The Elder ship is firing its nanobot beam. So far, they’re only targeting the incoming nukes and mortars.”

Jonathan nodded.

“Apply deceleration protocol,” Jonathan said. “Begin separation from autonomous elements. Update our flyby vector to give the planet killers enough clearance.”

The Liaoning supercarriers began to pull away from the battle units, as did the leading seven craft in each column. Unlike the overall composition of each battle unit—either Sino-Korean, United Systems, or Raakarr vessels—the seven craft with each group of supercarriers were mixed: two United Systems destroyers, two Sino-Korean cruisers, two Raakarr pyramids, and a Reach-class vessel.

As those lead ships pulled away, the succeeding starships of the main fleet slowed and thrust slightly to alter course. 

The crews of the Liaoning and her escorts had been evacuated, alien and human alike, so that the ships were operated by autonomous AIs—none of the vessels were expected to survive. While it might seem wasteful to expend entire starships like that, neither the slower Avengers nor the Raakarr fighters had the necessary speed to carry out the mission.

The plan was to detonate the bombs close enough to the Elder vessel to damage it, yet high enough from the Earth’s surface to minimize planetary harm. Unfortunately, radiation from the high-powered bombs would blast the area immediately surrounding the Arctic Circle, including portions of Russia and Canada. Medical treatment would save many citizens, but many more would die from radiation poisoning. The environmental clean-up effort would be ongoing for years afterward. But it was either that or lose the whole planet.

On the tactical display, while the main fleet receded, the eight SK supercarriers and their escorts continued the approach toward the Elder vessel. If Harv’s charged fields didn’t work...

“The Elder ship is firing its nanobot beam at the Liaoning supercarriers in turn.” The ensign paused. “The ships seem unharmed. It looks like the charged fields are holding up.”

Jonathan exhaled in quiet relief.

On the tactical display, red dots began to appear from the Elder. At first only a few. But in moments there was a literal swarm of them.

“They’ve launched super-suits to intercept the supercarriers,” Lewis said. “Several of the incoming scavenger vessels are also changing course to intercept them. More scavengers are breaking orbit to join them.”

“Looks like the Elder have finally figured out our ships are shielded,” Robert commented. 

“Have the automated escorts break formation,” Jonathan said. “Protect the Liaoning.”

The AI-controlled destroyers and cruisers with the supercarriers were supposed to launch nukes at any incoming disintegration or fragmentation bombs sent by the scavengers, while the Raakarr pyramids were to use their particle beams to eliminate any of those that got through.

“I want the rest of the fleet to fire a Viper volley when those scavengers are in range of our heavy lasers,” Jonathan said. “Concentrate our beams. I want twenty beams targeting the same spot on a given scavenger. We have to do our best to distract them. And hopefully draw them into attacking us instead.” 

“Super-suits are coming into firing range with the Liaoning...” Ensign Lewis said. “As are scavengers. Other scavengers are closing with the main fleet. Some super-suits are also on an intercept course with the rest of us.”

Jonathan glanced at the display and saw that ten scavengers were heading toward the decelerating battle units that contained the majority of the fleet.

“Fire spread A3,” Jonathan said. “Mortars only.”

The incoming scavengers changed course to avoid the mortars. Jonathan waited several seconds, then: “Fire spread A3 again. Nukes this time.”

The nukes launched.

“We just lost one of the Liaoning vessels to a scavenger disintegration device,” Lewis said.

One planet killer down.

There was no devastating explosion, of course. Even if the ship and its planet killer had been destroyed by some sort of kinetic kill, without the proper detonation sequence, the warheads in the delivery vehicles could not attain the environment necessary for a runaway nuclear reaction.

Flashes appeared on the forward external camera feed Jonathan had piped into his vision.

“What was that?”

“Some of the incoming scavengers steered right into our nukes,” Lewis said. “Four of them went down. But not before launching disintegration and fragmentation bombs in return. The rest have launched weapons as well, and are pulling away to put some distance between the main fleet during the flyby.”

Damn it.

“Get some nukes out there to intercept those bombs!” Jonathan said. “And have the Raakarr employ their particle beams in a sweeping motion, taking out as many of them as possible.”

The moments ticked past. Nukes took out several of the incoming bombs, but it wasn’t enough. Blue dots were winking out in the main fleet.

“Update me, ops,” Jonathan said.

“We just lost seventeen vessels to a combination of the scavenger disintegration and fragmentation bombs,” Lewis said. “Two Raakarr, ten Sino-Korean, and five United Systems.”

Another Liaoning vessel vanished from the forward attack group.

“Two scavengers concentrated their gravimetric beams on one of the planet killers,” Lewis said. “It just broke apart. We’ve also lost twelve of the escort vessels. Five self-destructed after being hit by the nanobot beam. Three were lost to scavenger disintegration bombs, two broke apart when hit by fragmentation bombs, and two more have been disabled by the super-suits. We’re also on the verge of losing a third Liaoning to the super-suits. They’re hammering it relentlessly.”

Two planet killers down, with a third about to succumb.

“I’m reading another wave of incoming disintegration and fragmentation bombs destined for the main fleet,” Lewis said. “Also, the super-suits are making their flyby with us.”

“Miko, get nukes out there,” Jonathan said. “And have the Raakarr fire their particle beams at anything that is in range.”

Once again the nukes intercepted many of the bombs, and the Raakarr were able to take out a significant number from the location of their particular battle unit, but a handful of the weapons made it through to the main fleet.

“How many did we lose this time?” Jonathan said.

“Eight ships,” Lewis said. “All Sino-Korean. The rest of us took heavy damage from the strafing run made by the super-suits. They’re decelerating to make a second pass.” She paused. “Supercarriers are approaching detonation range... we just lost the third.”

Three planet killers down.

“And nearly all the escorts have been destroyed,” Lewis said.

“Tell me as soon as we’re in detonation range,” Jonathan said.

She looked up a moment later. “We’re in range.”

“Blow the Elder to hell,” Jonathan said.

His external feed flashed a bright white. When the color faded, the Elder ship remained, though it was obviously badly damaged. It was like a giant mouth had taken large bites in three different areas of the hull of the Möbius strip vessel. 

“Tell me what we did, Ensign,” Jonathan said.

“I’m reading three extensive breaches,” Lewis said. “The thermal leakage is off the charts. We hit them good, sir. The section that housed the nanobot beam is completely gone. They’ve also stopped firing their main graviton beam into the Earth’s crust. The scavengers and super-suits that had been closest to the explosions are gone.”

“And the remaining scavengers and super-suits?”

“Five scavengers and twenty super-suits escaped the blast because of their proximity to the main fleet. They’re still pursuing us. As for the eighty or so scavengers in low Earth orbit, none of them have moved.”

“Maybe now they’ll be open to negotiation,” Robert said.

Jonathan nodded. “Miko, tell the Raptor to transmit the surrender request to the Elder.”

He waited a few moments and then Lewis reported the expected gamma ray transmission from the Raptor.

“Maxwell, how is our radiation armor holding up?” Jonathan asked.

“Armor is holding steady fleet-wide,” the Callaway’s AI said. “It filtered out most of the intense gamma rays from the blast.”

“And the Earth?”

“Bombarded with the expected radiation levels,” Maxwell replied. “We’ve created a few environmental catastrophes.”

“Just a few,” the captain commented.

Jonathan watched the incoming scavengers and super-suits slowly approach the retreating main fleet on the tactical display.

“Get our specialized fighter wing out there,” Jonathan said. “Intercept those super-suits.”

“Launching Avengers,” Miko said.

“Any response from the Elder yet?” Jonathan asked.

“The CDC hasn’t reported any communication-grade gamma rays yet,” Lewis said.

“Maybe we’ve damaged their comms?” Robert asked.

“It’s possible,” Jonathan said.

On the tactical display, scavenger ships began to pull away one by one.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan said.

“The scavenger ships are retreating toward the Elder vessel,” Lewis said. “And... the mothership is leaving orbit!”

“You think we’ve driven them off?” Robert said.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I think they’re merely retreating to lick their wounds. Ops, do you have a course for them yet?”

“Yes,” Lewis replied. “They’ve already moved beyond escape velocity. It seems their Alcubierre drive is fully functional, despite the damage we’ve caused. They’re headed directly away from us. If they continue upon their current trajectory, they’ll eventually reach Jupiter.” She paused. “The super-suits are breaking off their pursuit of the fleet as well.”

“Should I recall the Avengers?” Miko asked.

“Not yet,” Jonathan said. “Let them at least try to complete their mission.”

“More scavengers are leaving Earth orbit,” Lewis said.

“Do we have a trajectory on them?” the captain asked.

“Yes,” she said. “They’re headed toward the Elder as well. This is interesting: as they reach the Elder mothership, they plow directly into the breached portions of the hull.”

“Plugging the breaches with their ships?” Miko asked.

“Could be,” Jonathan said. “With those nanobots they have aboard, they might just need the raw materials. Miko, based on their current speed, is there any way we could intercept the Elder mothership? To finish them off before they complete repairs?”

“Negative,” Miko said. “At their current speed, we’ll never catch up to them, nor will any of our weapons.”

“Too bad,” Jonathan said. “Ops, update me on the scavengers remaining in orbit.”

“Most of them are descending deeper into the Earth’s atmosphere,” Lewis said. “Initiating atmospheric entry. Only twenty are staying in orbit. I’m guessing to guard the ones below from us.”

A few moments later Jonathan asked: “Have they finished their atmospheric entry yet?”

“They have,” Lewis said. “They’re all hovering about a hundred meters above the surface in different locations. Firing their gravimetric beams into the crust.”

“Trying to finish what the Elder started?” Jonathan asked.

“I don’t think so,” the ensign said. “It looks to me more like they’re collecting raw minerals from the Earth’s crust. Maybe gathering repair materials for the Elder.”

“All right,” Jonathan said. “Turn the fleet around. We’re going to be making a few orbital attack runs over the next several hours. Let’s see if we can disrupt some of that mineral farming.”

twenty

Rade felt the alien street shudder beneath his feet. The effect was enhanced slightly by the boots of his strength-boosting jumpsuit to make certain he was aware of it. He supposed that was the planet killers striking the ship. This despite the reassurances the SCS agent gave that they’d be well off the ship by then. Well at least they had survived the detonations. Though Rade wasn’t sure if that was good or bad for the rest of humanity.

A distant wail sounded a moment later. It reminded him of the pitch-changing siren he had heard during the invasion of the Elk homeworld. A ghostly, haunting noise. It heralded death, either for those who dwelt there, or for Rade and the boarding party.

He was aboard the Elder vessel, of course. Porting a nuclear bomb with his LPO Helium, and six combat robots. The sketchy SCS operative Vance led the way in his spacesuit. Vance held a blaster in one hand, and a gray, spherical device in the other. Strapped to his hip was a small, wicked-looking cylinder. The latter was probably an energy spear, Rade thought: a device that shot out a continuous stream of plasma when activated. It could be used like a laser cutter to pierce hatches and other doorways, or as a weapon.

The robots were equipped with laser rifles, and wore spacesuits like everyone else. All of the suits had been equipped with experimental charged field tech designed to repel any nanobots that might attempt to change the molecular structure of their suits. They had to lug around heavy power sources on their backs because of that, requiring them to leave behind their jetpacks for the mission. Rade couldn’t actually tell if there were any nanobots out there attempting to attack his suit, but nothing had happened so far so he assumed the tech was working.

They were on a street of some kind. That was the best way to describe it. Around them towered tall buildings. They were similar to those he had encountered on the Elk homeworld, in that the different buildings were geometric in shape—flat triangles, cylinders, pyramids—with black tubes interconnecting them. That, combined with the metallic gray-green sheen of the street led to the overall sensation of walking through a giant circuit board. And while the buildings were far taller than those Rade had encountered on the Elk homeworld, he could definitely see that the Elder and Raakarrr shared a common ancestry.

White filaments embedded in the buildings like veins in marble shone brightly, illuminating the street. Large sections of the neighborhood were coated in a gelatinous yellow-orange substance, which hung like a thick spiderweb upon and between the buildings. Vance gave those sections a wide berth.

Rade was convinced it was an alien city or colony. Perhaps the Elder didn’t build colonies on actual planets, but rather, their whole ship served as one.

Rade had been aboard the Dragonfly only five minutes before, coming in close to the twisting hull that turned back in upon itself. The Elder ship was slightly translucent near the upper regions, and even then he had caught glimpses of the apparent cityscape that awaited within.

They had flown underneath, along the outer rim of the Möbius strip, where several small openings dotted the surface. Like the suits the landing party wore, the Dragonfly had been equipped with the same charged field as the planet killers: designed to protect against the nanobot particle beam the Elder vessel employed. But the Elder never fired the beam against them, oddly enough.

Vance steered the Dragonfly into one of those openings, entering a tubelike corridor capped by a sealed hatch.

“I just detected a spike in gamma radiation,” one of the combat robots in the shuttle informed him at the time, using the private comm band that Rade had set up to exclude Vance.

“From the shuttle?” Rade asked.

“Yes,” the robot replied. “Or rather, inside.”

Rade glanced at Helium, who shrugged and said: “The crazy dude got the chief weapons engineer to give him some extra gear, I’m guessing.”

The hatch opened a moment later. How the operative had known to send such a transmission, Rade had no idea. 

The Dragonfly entered what looked like some sort of hangar bay or small staging area. Empty super-suits lined the far bulkhead inside sealed glass pods. The shuttle dropped suddenly as it penetrated the artificial gravity field of the interior, but the external thrusters quickly compensated.

Rade had felt the increased weight immediately. According to his HUD, the gravity came in at one point four Earth Gs. A little on the heavy side, but nothing the enhanced strength of his jumpsuit couldn’t handle. Still, it only made the power supplies they wore on their backs feel all the heavier. Not to mention the warhead they would port.

The shuttle landed as the hatch sealed behind them and the bay apparently re-pressurized.

The down ramp opened; the two MOTHs and six Centurions scooped up the nuclear warhead and followed Vance into the staging area. He led them to another sealed hatch and held up a small spherical device—the same device he had kept in hand since then.

“Detecting another gamma transmission,” one of the faithful robots in the party told Rade.

That hatch opened, too. Then they walked inside, entering the shipboard alien city.

And here they were.

Rade listened to his own soft breathing inside his helmet. The noise canceler reduced the sound of his respirations to a gentle whisper; the sound comforted him, somewhat. Told him he was still alive, at least for the moment. 

He had to volunteer for the mission, of course. He had told his daughter he would be the first in line when it came time to pay the price for what they had done to the Elk homeworld. This mission certainly qualified. He didn’t expect that he or Helium would get out alive, despite the assurances that Vance gave them.

He glanced at the nuke whose handle he held with both gloves. He had come to pay the price for destroying the Elk homeworld; ironic, that the price would involve him giving his life to harm another colony world, one that resided aboard a ship instead of a planet.

His gaze drifted to Vance at the front of the party. Rade wouldn’t have come along if Maxwell hadn’t vouched for the man. When the AI of your ship is opening every door in your path and providing access to all the material you need for the mission, it’s hard not to believe the man you’re following is who he says he is.

Still, there was something off about him. Vance was far too calm and at ease for someone who was venturing deeper into an alien vessel. Like he knew things about it that no human should. Sure, he was SCS, but Rade doubted even the SCS knew very much about the Elder.

And then there was the way he looked at Rade, like he had known him for a long time, or at least, known about him. Rade suspected Vance had used his classified access to read Rade’s whole file. Helium’s, too. And from the way he acted, Rade definitely got the impression that Vance saw him and Helium as mere tools, nothing more. Expendable ones. Rade had no doubt Vance would throw them to the dogs the moment things got tough.

Rade felt the strap of his laser rifle pull slightly on his arm assembly as the weapon swayed with each step. Those laser rifles were equipped with the same tech the chief scientist had developed to penetrate the Raakarr darkness generators, except tweaked for the super-suits employed by the Neanderthals who appeared to be in the Elder’s service. In theory, it should penetrate the shielding mechanism of those super-suits. The weapons had never actually been tested against them, of course.

Rade had to smile at that.

How many times have I been used as the navy’s guinea pig over the last seventy years?

The wailing siren continued to drone on in the background. The street ahead remained completely dead. Nothing moved out there, not on any sensors. Probably because some sort of lock-down or curfew condition was in place, thanks to the impact of the planet killers. Likely many personnel had been called in to help with emergency repairs of damaged sections.

Rade found himself wishing he had a few HS4 scouts to map the street ahead. He had wanted to bring them after departing the shuttle, but Vance had told him the small exploratory drones were not needed.

“Indeed,” the man had said. “The HS4s will prove a liability more than anything else, drawing the enemy to us.”

“And the nuke won’t?” Rade had said.

With that, Vance had only grinned, waving the small device he’d held in his glove ever since landing, as if that was supposed to explain everything. And it did, in a way.

“Maybe they don’t know we’re here?” Helium said on a private line.

“They know,” Rade said. “The only reason they’ve left us alone so far is because of the device Vance is carrying. It’s concealing our position somehow, I think. And the planet killer damage is probably helping distract them as well.”

“The best way to ensure that a disguise works is to sow confusion among your enemy at the time you plan to use it,” Helium said.

“A quote from Helium’s ‘Tips to Fighting the Covert War,’ number one bestseller on the Road to Warriors app?” Rade said in jest.

“Pretty much.”

Rade’s amusement vanished as he continued to scan those brightly lit streets. “Well whatever the case, I have a feeling it’s not going to last for much longer.”

His helmet HUD presented an overhead map of the regions mapped so far. That would prove useful when it came time to retreat—if they ever got a chance to.

In a few minutes the buildings dropped away, replaced by large, rocky structures dotted with caves. Those structures reached at least as high as the buildings they had replaced.

As they proceeded into the new region, one of the Centurions contacted him on a private line.

“The composition of the air just changed,” the combat robot said. “The atmosphere here is breathable by human beings.”

“How is that possible?” Rade said.

“It appears some sort of planar gravimetric field separates the two environments,” the Centurion replied. “But the gravity waves aren’t powerful enough to account for the separation on their own. Something else is at play, but I’m not sure what. Our knowledge of science can’t completely explain it.”

The party passed in between two of the rock formations, which formed a gorge of sorts. Rade felt uneasy and exposed: who could say what was observing them from the mouths of those dark caves above?

Rade was breathing hard—the weight of the warhead was getting to him in that oppressive gravity. Even though he was in peak physical condition, and had the enhanced strength of the suit dialed up to max, he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going. He wondered how the Neanderthals could stand the heavier gravity—assuming any of them actually lived inside the city, of course. He supposed if one was born under such conditions the gravity would be far easier to acclimate to, with one’s muscle and skeletal systems adapting at an early age. And if the Neanderthals had truly lived with the Elder for hundreds of thousands of years, evolution would have lent a helping hand as well.

About two hundred meters inside the new section, Vance mercifully raised a halting hand.

“Leave the nuke here,” the SCS operative’s voice came over the comm.

Rade gladly lowered his handle, as did the others. One of the combat robots seemed to have trouble stabilizing its upper body for a moment, with one shoulder appearing to droop permanently, but it corrected the problem under Rade’s watchful eye.

Vance approached the warhead and accessed the control panel. He inserted a small key and entered a code using the physical panel—security protocol permitted only physical access to arming operations.

When that was done, Vance glanced at Rade. “I’ll need your help to arm it.”

Rade stepped forward and inserted the key he kept for occasions such as these. “Your clearance overrides don’t work with nuclear warheads?”

“Not even I can override the two-man rule, Mr. Galaal,” Vance said.

Rade entered his code, completing the second half of the required arming procedure, then he stepped away to let Vance continue.

“I’m setting it to detonate forty-five minutes from now.” Vance glanced at Rade. “You feel that’s too short? Too long?”

“A little short,” Rade said. “If we encounter any trouble on the way out, we could use every last second.”

Vance seemed to look him up and down from behind the faceplate. “Forty-five minutes it is. And who says we’re on the way out? You think our mission is over already? No, my friend. We’ve only just begun. It’s time for the second part. This way.”

Vance began to clamber up the rock formation.

Rade exchanged a frustrated glance with Helium, then set a countdown timer on his faceplate for forty-five minutes and proceeded up the rock after Vance.

twenty-one

Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf was a ghost drifting through space. The fighter around him was hidden from view courtesy of his aReal, which used the sixteen external cameras dotting the hull to create an unobstructed three-hundred-sixty degree view of the void around him.

Tiny, virtual dots overlaid his vision, indicating his direction of travel, and his velocity. From the rate those simulated particles were passing by, he guessed his speed at sixty thousand kilometers per hour. A glance at the current velocity indicator on his HUD told him he was fairly close: a pilot with his experience got to know the handling characteristics of his bird very very well.

He swiveled his body to the left; the starboard thrusters ejected superheated propellant, rotating the Avenger’s nose to match his current facing. He clenched his left fist, engaging full rear thrust to begin accelerating on the new course vector. He felt the Gs before the inertial compensator’s kicked in.

He glanced at the map portion of his HUD. The other seven blue dots of Orange Squadron clustered around him in the triangular formation known as Phi. His wingman, Lieutenant Commander Yates, flew the lead Avenger with his copilot Brown. The other five Avengers were unmanned. A trailing Dragonfly shuttle mirrored the movements of the Squadron about two kilometers behind them.

Wolf’s Cobra had been replaced with a focused EM emitter, leaving him only mag-rails for offense. The charged field generator had to be shut down, as it sapped too much power from the emitter, leaving him unprotected against the Elder ship’s nanobot transformation beam—not that Wolf planned to get close to the Elder ship.

Meanwhile, the other Avengers in Orange were equipped with Cobras whose laser systems had been modified to penetrate super-suit shielding.

Since the scientists had no actual super-suits in their possession, neither the EM emitter nor the Cobras had actually been tested before: this was their testing ground. But if the modifications worked, Wolf heard that the plan was to update the Avenger weapon systems across the fleet. The Cobras, anyway: he doubted very many space wing commanders would approve the stun weapon, since killing was far easier than capturing. And unfortunately, the changes would be restricted to the lasers aboard fighters and mechs, as the Vipers within the starships were far too large and complex to modify.

“We’re approaching the lagging super-suits,” a disembodied voice came from beside him. “T-minus twenty seconds until intercept.”

That was his copilot, Lieutenant Frank Turow. Frank had come a long way since his early days, when he had first joined Wolf as copilot. Frank had a thousand simulated missions under his belt at the time, but only two actual training flights. Under Wolf’s tutelage, Frank had turned into a seasoned copilot, with over fifty combat flights under his belt. Serving aboard the Callaway had certainly fast-tracked his experience level—the starship had seen more battles in the past two and a half years than most vessels did in two and a half lifetimes. 

When the Elder ship fled, all of the super-suits had broken away with it. The three that Wolf was tracking had been slower to turn back than the others. Wolf had spotted them early on and accelerated to head them off.

The super-suits were about one and a half times faster than the Avengers. It was only because of the advantageous position afforded by the Callaway’s higher orbit when launching the fighters that the squadron even had a chance to intercept.

He glanced at the rad level indicator: almost back to normal. When the squadron had first emerged, the fighters were exposed to a good amount of gamma rays from the planet killers that had detonated. They had all loaded up on anti-rad subdermals before the mission, of course, as these models of Avengers only had the armor to protect against standard cosmic background radiation and little else. The radiation had quickly waned, thankfully.

“Ten thousand kilometers, and closing,” Frank said.

“Begin decelerating,” Wolf said. The goal was to match the speed and direction of their targets at least somewhat, so that when he fired the grappling hook it wouldn’t inflict kinetic damage.

Though currently accelerating in the same direction as the targets, momentum carried the Squadron toward the three super-suits from the side, so that the intercept would occur at a perpendicular angle. Wolf’s target was the middle super-suit. The other seven fighters would test out their modified Cobras on the remaining two suits.

“Five thousand,” Frank said.

A moment later: “Two thousand. Targets are deviating from course. New heading, one o’clock.”

Wolf glanced at the overhead display. The three super-suits were swerving directly toward the Squadron.

“One thousand,” Frank said.

“Fire,” Wolf ordered.

He targeted the centermost super-suit and squeezed his right fist, which first engaged the EM emitter, and then fired the grappling hook.

“Target grappled,” the cloyingly sweet female voice of the AI, Betty, announced.

“My team got a direct hit on the lead target,” Yates said over the comm. “But we lost Orange Five.” That was one of the unmanned Avengers.

The three super-suits continued past at their same momentum.

“Pursue!” Wolf swung his nose in the direction of travel and accelerated to maximum speed. The carbon fiber cord quickly grew taut as the grappled target reached the line’s limit. 

Wolf’s speed momentarily increased as momentum passed to his fighter, then decreased again. He knew his velocity would continue to bounce around a bit while energy was exchanged like that, and he began decelerating while reeling in the target at the same time. He fired his psi stun device again for good measure.

“The other two targets are continuing away from us,” Frank said. “Yates, did you get them both?”

“Negative,” Yates replied. “We concentrated fire on the lead target. The rear should be still intact... there it goes: rear target is turning around.”

“Guess he doesn’t like us grappling his friend,” Frank commented.

“Take him out,” Wolf said.

“Roger that,” Yates said. A moment later: “He dodged at the last second, but I think we got him. Wait, he’s coming in again. He’s headed straight for you, Wolf!”

“He’s not firing,” Frank commented. “They must have damaged his weapon.”

Wolf saw the red dot was indeed heading directly toward his Avenger. Meanwhile, he had reeled in his original target to within two meters by then, and could see the yellow-white suit floating in front of him.

“Betty, keep stunning the original target,” Wolf said.

“Roger that,” the AI replied.

Since Wolf couldn’t direct the psi-stun device toward the incoming super-suit—the emitter was fixed to the nose of the Avenger—he might as well have Betty continue stunning the grappled target while it was within the line of sight of the focused beam. They weren’t sure how long each stun would last, after all.

He swiveled the mag-rails toward the incoming super-suit instead, but he was too late: the external speakers on his bodysuit transmitted a thud as something struck the Avenger’s hull. He glanced up and saw the intruding super-suit seemingly hanging on to thin air above and to the right of him.

“Warning, hull breached,” Betty said. “Compartment is decompressing.”

The pressurized environment of his bodysuit would protect him from the decompression, but not from much else.

Wolf directed the swivel-mounted mag-rails toward the target. Because of the super-suit’s location on the hull, it was just beyond the line of sight of the mag-rails.

The super-suit lifted its right arm backward and then hurtled it down into the invisible hull.

“Breach is enlarging,” Betty said.

Wolf quickly disengaged the inner actuators and the external view winked out. He floated within the center of a spherical lattice inside the cockpit. Crammed in beside him was another sphere, though this one appeared solid; Frank released his actuators a millisecond later, and the surface of his sphere receded as well, leaving behind a similar steel frame.

Wolf glanced at the overhead; the white arm of a super-suit was reaching inside the cockpit from a breach in the hull. 

“We got an intruder,” Wolf said.

He retrieved the blaster from his utility belt and fired at the arm. No effect. Unlike the Cobras, they hadn’t modified their personal defense weapons to use the penetrative frequency tech, as it would have made the weapons too bulky to fit comfortably within the spherical cocoon of the cockpit.

“Can you get a bead on him, Yates?” Wolf asked over the comm.

“He’s dragging your Avenger all over the place,” Yates said. “We can’t get a solid bead. We fire, and we miss, it’s your head.”

“Grappled target is no longer within line of sight of stun beam,” Betty said. “Target may return to full operability at any time.”

“Then reel it in closer to the hull, dipshit!” Wolf said.

“Roger that,” Betty replied.

He really hated having to babysit AIs, especially during a critical moment.

Wolf glanced at the enemy’s arm one last time. It was repeatedly squeezing its white glove into a fist, as if trying to fire some sort of weapon that wasn’t working.

And as if expecting that weapon to begin functioning again any second now...

Wolf quickly reactivated his actuators. The inner cocoon of the sphere enveloped him and his view filled with the starscape outside once more.

Wolf rotated the nose of the Avenger to face opposite the direction of travel and then slammed down on the thruster.

“What are you doing?” the disembodied voice of Frank asked.

“What I should have done from the start,” Wolf replied.

He glanced up. The super-suit had shifted in position, and seemed to be struggling to hang onto the hull.

Once more Wolf pointed the mag-rails toward the super-suit. The opponent’s left leg was well within the line of sight this time.

He fired at that leg. He didn’t expect the slugs to penetrate, but that wasn’t his intention; he accelerated in the opposite direction of the impact at the same time.

The combined momentum imparted from the slug and the sudden reversal in acceleration ripped the super-suit clean off the hull.

“We have a bead!” Yates said.

“Fire,” Wolf replied.

“Got it!” Yates said. “Target is drifting away, and not coming back. I wonder if we should collect it for study?”

“One is enough,” Wolf said. He focused his attention on the original target, which floated in front of the Avenger’s nose, precisely where the grapple had reeled it in.

“You still stunning it, Betty?” Wolf asked.

“Affirmative,” the AI replied. “Once every thirty seconds.”

“That might be overdoing it,” Wolf said. “But then again, we know nothing about their tolerance levels, do we?”

“No we do not,” Betty said.

“All right, bag it!” Wolf said over the comm.

“Chrysalis,” Frank said. “You’re good to go.”

The trailing Dragonfly Chrysalis maneuvered into place. Jonathan extended the grappling hook, allowing the stunned super-suit to float toward the shuttle. The rear ramp was open.

A combat robot jetted outside and wrapped its arms around the target.

Wolf released the grappling hooks entirely and the robot thrust back inside. The ramp sealed behind it.

“Target is in the bag,” Wolf said. “I repeat, target is in the bag.”

twenty-two

Rade ascended the rock formation with moderate effort. The incline varied between thirty and fifty degrees, not so steep as to be unscalable, but not so gentle as to be easy. During the steeper regions, it helped that there were many flat areas offering good hand- and foot-holds. It was as though it had been designed to support human climbing, which made sense, given the humanoids who were suspected of inhabiting the ship with the Elder. 

Vance paused beside different cave mouths, holding his spherical device in front of the darkness as if measuring something. He moved far too casually for Rade’s taste, and after lowering the device often lingered in front of the caves as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile Rade was keenly aware of the time ticking down on the warhead with every precious second that passed.

Finally Vance looked back after stopping in front of one particular cave. “This way. Centurions A and B, go first please. Headlamps on.”

The designated Centurions led the way, their headlamps cutting a swath through the darkness of the cave.

They reached a diaphanous membrane of sorts that sheathed the tunnel from floor to ceiling. Beyond, the air was colored yellow. Vance glanced at the party members, then stepped through. None of the yellow gas leaked out.

Rade realized he was looking at an airlock of some kind.

From the other side, Vance beckoned at the party members, indicating for them to follow. The group passed through and resumed the advance. The air continued to be tinted yellow.

They reached a central chamber shortly. Three more tunnels branched off in different directions. In the middle of the floor was a pedestal set upon a dais. Atop the pedestal rested a small pyramid carved from stone. Pulsing with energy, blue lines of power ran up and down the sides, etching intricate patterns into the surface.

“Retrieve the artifact, Mr. Galaal,” Vance said.

Rade hesitated. Why me and not a combat robot?

But he proceeded forward anyway, as ordered. He stepped gingerly, wary of traps. Above, the arched ceiling was crisscrossed by thick rafters of stone that were offset about a meter underneath; those rafters could have served as walkways, offering hiding places for ambushers.

“Permission to dispatch a Centurion to clear the upper rafters,” Rade sent.

“Permission denied,” Vance said.

Gritting his teeth, Rade approached the pedestal. He alternately scanned the stone below and the walkways above.

He stepped onto the dais and the artifact lay immediately before him. The object almost seemed to hum with that pulsating energy.

Rade released his rifle and let it hang from the strap on his shoulder assembly. Warily glancing above him one last time, he reached out and wrapped his gloved fingers around the artifact. He expected a trap to go off at any time as he lifted the pyramid, but nothing happened.

He drew the artifact toward him. It felt surprisingly light.

A dark form dropped down from the arched ceiling. Before it hit the ground beside him, the form lit up, becoming blindingly bright.

Rade squinted, taking a step backward while the photochromatic filters in his faceplate dimmed the light to something more manageable. He found himself looking up at a towering being of light. He discerned vaguely reptilian features in the brightness of its body that reminded him of a Raakarr: bifurcated mandibles, spiky appendages, segmented abdomen lined with horned plates.

Rade knew every weapon in the room would be pointed at that entity.

He waved his free hand behind him. “Hold your fire!”

He wasn’t sure why he said it. For some reason, he had the impression the tall bright being meant him no harm. The jumpsuit he wore was supposed to be psi-shielded, but that shielding was meant to protect against human or humanoid telepaths. From previous encounters, he already knew the Elder could circumvent it. Rade recalled the mission on the greenhouse planet in the Elder galaxy, where Commander Cray had reported psychic visions after encountering the Elder offspring, this despite his psi-shielded suit.

Is it trying to communicate with me?

As he continued to regard the alien, Rade felt a strange sense of peace.

The being extended a bright-white appendage toward him.

Rade offered a gloved hand in return. Closer his hand neared. Closer...

But before he could touch the appendage, something happened.

“It’s a trick!” Vance shouted.

From the being’s torso the red tip of a self-contained plasma channel emerged, and Rade realized Vance had stabbed it from behind with his energy spear.

The entity unleashed an ear-piercing howl, forcing Rade to turn down his speaker volume as he recoiled.

The being of light spun about, grabbed Vance by the torso, and split him in half at the waist, spacesuit and all.  The being tossed the bloody parts to either side of the chamber, and then collapsed. It remained motionless, and from its wound poured a glowing substance, like liquid gold.

Looking at it, Rade was overcome with an extreme sense of loss.

“Get the pyramid out of here!” Vance said.

The voice startled Rade. He glanced at the severed body part that had voiced the command. Vance’s torso had struggled up on one elbow, but collapsed as Rade watched.

He glanced at his HUD. The operative’s vitals had flat-lined.

Rade wondered how the operative could have functioned as long as he did after receiving such a devastating blow. The sheer blood loss alone should have incapacitated him instantly.

Rade stuffed the pyramid into his jumpsuit harness and hurried to Vance’s torso; he nearly slipped on the pool of blood that had formed underneath it. He examined the exposed area under the spacesuit where the operative had been split in half. Underneath all that blood, there were definitely robotic components. An Artificial.

From Vance’s clenched fist Rade freed the spherical device. Hoping it would continue to keep the enemy at bay, he secured it to his harness.

Rade wasn’t in the habit of leaving anybody behind, no matter their position in his team, not when he had an opportunity to save them. There was a small chance the Artificial could be revived, after all.

He was about to give the order for one of the robots to haul the body when the nearby being of light came to life. It stabbed one of its spiked appendages right into Vance’s brain case and dragged the operative underneath its own bleeding torso.

No chance Vance can be revived, now.

“Let’s go!” Rade said, retreating.

The group hurried down the tunnel. Fearing pursuit, Rade often glanced at the rear-view camera feed projected at the top of his vision.

They reached the diaphanous membrane and passed through into the uncolored air beyond. As the party neared the cave mouth, they deactivated their headlamps.

Helium crouched at the entrance beside one of the Centurions.

“Got tangos down there,” Helium said.

Rade switched to his point of view and saw several Neanderthals dressed in strange clothes crowded around the nuke at the bottom of the gorge made by the formations. There were also some wearing super-suits among them. They all seemed fascinated by the warhead. Or perhaps concerned was the better word.

“I see them,” Rade said. “We retreat parallel, along the ridge line. Go.”

He switched back to his own viewpoint and glanced at the timer. Ten minutes until detonation.

Shit.

He followed one of the Centurions outside onto the rock and edged along the surface. The eight party members formed a long line that was spread across the formation, and carefully moved away from the gathering below.

As he made his way forward, Rade thought of the being of light. Was that an Elder? He wondered vaguely how many of them were actually aboard the city-ship. His party had seen only one so far, while the remaining inhabitants had proved Neanderthal, at least so far. Were the Elder dying out? They probably lived a very long time, which gave them reason to reproduce only rarely. He could imagine their population had dwindled in the five hundred thousand years since leaving the Milky Way.

He cleared his mind, concentrating on the task at hand. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander, not when he had troops, both man and AI, looking to him to lead them off of that ship alive.

The party advanced about fifty meters before they were forced to descend, as the rock sloped down sharply. Rade picked his way down following Helium and the Centurion on point.

Motion in his rear-view feed drew his gaze back toward the gathering at the bottom of the gorge behind them.

One of the Neanderthals was pointing at the party, and yelling.

“Go go go!” Rade said. “Units D, E, F, you’re T2. Cover our retreat!”

The respective Centurions dug in while the remainder of the group hurried down the incline.

“T1, assume overwatch at the bottom!” Rade said.

Helium and the lead robot reached the street and ducked behind the rock for cover. Rade joined them, and aimed his rifle past the edge.

“Get down here, T2!” Rade said.

He aimed at one of the super-suits, which was bounding extremely fast up the slope toward the retreating members of T2.

Now we see if our chief scientist’s modifications work, Rade thought.

He squeezed the trigger.

The super-suit collapsed.

“T2, when you get to the bottom, assume cover,” Rade said. “We’re going to continue the retreat in traveling overwatch.”

The torso of Unit E disintegrated on the way down; when Units D and F made it to the bottom, Rade assigned C to T2 then departed with T1 while the second fire team covered them.

As he ran, Rade set his rifle to autonomous mode and held it behind him to shoot down tangos on its own. Helium and the robots in T1 did likewise.

After about a hundred meters Rade and the others dove behind a bulge in the rock face to provide proper covering fire for the remaining three robots. “T2, advance!” He was panting loudly from the effort of running in the heavy artificial gravity.

The three robots got up, but the moment they left cover they were disintegrated.

Damn it.

“Run,” one of the remaining two Centurions said. “I’ll cover you.”

“Thank you,” Rade said. “Good luck!”

The members of T1 resumed the retreat, keeping their rifles pointed behind them in autonomous mode so that they could continue firing at the enemy while on the run.

They reached the city proper and swerved into a side alleyway between two triangular buildings. Rade kept an eye on the distant overhead during the detour, worried about an attack from above.

With a minute and a half to spare before warhead detonation, the three of them arrived at the hatch to the hangar bay.

Rade wasn’t quite sure how to use the spherical device he had taken from Vance. He lifted it slightly from its position on his harness and directed it toward the door.

The hatch opened.

Rade glanced at Helium, then rushed inside. The super-suits remained unoccupied behind their glass pods on the far bulkhead. The shuttle still stood untouched on the deck in the center of the bay. Up until that moment, Rade hadn’t actually been sure it would still be there, as his Implant hadn’t been able to connect to the Dragonfly with that alien hatch closed. He guessed Vance had stowed another of those sphere devices somewhere aboard to protect it.

“Open her up!” Rade ordered the Dragonfly. He was still gasping for breath from the exertion.

The down ramp lowered and the haggard trio rushed inside.

“Take us into the exit tunnel!” Rade told the autonomous pilot.

“Aye aye, Chief,” the Dragonfly’s AI replied.

The ramp sealed and the deck hummed as the engines powered on. From his seat, Rade was able to see the cockpit glass, and he watched as the shuttle steered into the exit tunnel.

Up ahead, the sealed hatch blocked the way.

“What would you like me to do about the door, Chief?” the AI asked.

He was about to say, “blow it away,” but the hatch spiraled open automatically to allow egress as the shuttle grew closer.

“Never mind,” the AI said.

Rade felt the artificial gravity lift, and a moment later the craft broke free of the Elder vessel.

“Take us home,” Rade ordered. He had gotten his breathing somewhat under control by then, though he still respired in soft gasps.

The Dragonfly set a course for the Callaway.

Rade accessed the shuttle’s external rear camera, expecting super-suits to emerge and pursue at any second. He glanced at the countdown. It had just reached zero.

If there were any pursuers that had been about to exit, that detonating nuke would have thrown them into disarray. Rade could see no evidence of the explosion on the outside of the ship, but he had no doubt that the internal damage must have been devastating, at least to that portion of the massive vessel. That, combined with the planet killer damage, couldn’t have made for a very good day among the alien crew.

Rade remained on edge as the shuttle continued to gain distance, and it was only when the Dragonfly was two hundred kilometers away that he allowed himself to relax somewhat.

He had a terrible stomach ache, and he felt lightheaded. Both could be attributed to adrenaline hangover, that and the weightlessness of space. He also had a throbbing headache.

But he relished all of those sensations, because he was alive. He reflected, as he often did after combat wound down, on how close to death he had come in the past few minutes.

“We gotta stop going on life-and-death missions like these,” Helium said.

Those words tickled something inside of Rade, because he began to laugh. And it was no ordinary laugh, either, but rather a loud, uproarious guffaw.

Helium gave him a curious look, but then he too burst out in crazy laughter, unable to control himself.

“Humans are an odd bunch,” the surviving Centurion, Unit B, observed.

“We are indeed,” Rade said between tears of joy. “Odder than you’ll ever know.”

ZHIDAO HAD FLED the body of the Artificial before the Twisted One drew it in. Then Zhidao had raced, unnoticed in the darkness of the cave, along the floor after the fleeing landing party. While the humans and robots had been forced to retreat in a circuitous manner from the opening, Zhidao had taken a more direct route, flowing toward the bottom of the gorge and then to the city proper. The Phant had reached the hangar bay two full minutes ahead of the party, and easily seeped through the hatch into the bay beyond.

Once there, Zhidao had clung to the hull unnoticed underneath the Dragonfly. When Rade Galaal and the others had finally taken the shuttle away from the domain of the Twisted Ones, they did not know that they harbored a secret passenger just below.

Zhidao would have smiled if it had lips.

And so I have won, in the end. The artifact of the Twisted Ones is mine. The time of my brethren has nearly come.

Zhidao would have to get a new Artificial body when back aboard the Callaway of course. Zhidao had already instructed Maxwell to prepare for that particular occurrence.

Yes, Zhidao would have smiled from ear to ear.

twenty-three

Jonathan sat in his office, reviewing the repair reports for the ships under his command. His mind wandered, and he thought back to what had happened over the past few hours.

The first order of business after routing the mothership was to clean up the twenty scavengers in high orbit. The fleet utilized a series of hit-and-runs: concentrating their Viper fire during the different flybys, and using nukes to eliminate any incoming disintegration and fragmentation bombs. The Raakarr employed their particle beams to sweep up any bombs that got through. The strategy was great on digital paper, but it didn’t work quite so well in reality. The fleet was forced to give up its attack plan after destroying only ten of the scavengers, because more simply arose from the surface to replace them, and the allies were losing too many ships in return.

Jonathan had ordered the fleet to abandon Earth. None of the scavengers followed them.

With the damage the planet killers had caused to the Elder ship, the interference the Möbius strip vessel produced ended, and communications with Earth and the other planets were restored. Jonathan briefed NAVCENT on the situation, informing the senior command of everything that had happened from Raakarr-2 all the way back to the return trip to Earth. NAVCENT in turn explained that no reinforcements were coming as far as they knew, considering that the system was still cut off from the InterGalNet. Jonathan and his fleet were all that was standing between the Elder and Earth.

When Jonathan asked about the radiation contamination caused by the exploded planet killers, NAVCENT responded that it was tolerable, and that cleanup efforts were ongoing in the affected hemisphere. When he inquired about the scavenger vessels that had descended onto the planet, NAVCENT confirmed that they were indeed gathering raw materials: the senior command promised that potential strategies were being developed to deal with them. In the meantime, NAVCENT tasked Jonathan with taking the fleet to Jupiter and eliminating the threat posed by the Elder once and for all, by whatever means necessary. They told him that Admiral Zang had agreed to obey Jonathan’s orders, and that the captain was effectively in command of the entire combined fleet.

Jonathan thanked the senior command and ended communications. He had the battle group set a course for Jupiter.

Piloted by Chief Galaal, the rogue Dragonfly had returned unmolested to the fleet shortly thereafter. Apparently the MOTHs had successfully placed the nuke and detonated the warhead before leaving the Elder vessel. It hadn’t appeared to cause any obvious damage. Apparently the SCS operative Vance succumbed during the mission, which was probably for the best.

During the debriefing, Chief Galaal had revealed his encounter with what he believed to be an Elder itself. He also produced some sort of alien artifact that he had taken from the Elder ship at the behest of Vance. Unfortunately, no one knew what that artifact did. As the fleet departed Earth, Jonathan asked the different governments if their intelligence agencies knew anything about the stolen object or Vance. No one claimed to know a thing. Jonathan sent the man’s photo and profile down for the different agencies to research, and they promised to get back to him if they found anything. In the meantime, Jonathan had placed the artifact in the hands of Harv. So far, the lieutenant wasn’t able to make heads or tails of it.

Jonathan dismissed the repair reports and studied the tactical display. Six red dots proceeded toward the gas giant a day ahead of the fleet. These dots represented the Elder mothership and the five scavenger ships escorting her. The remaining scavengers that had departed Earth had long since docked with the Möbius strip vessel, and scans indicated the craft had been fully incorporated into the damaged hull. Some sort of repairs were definitely taking place.

A notification appeared on Jonathan’s aReal. The second watch comm officer was calling from the bridge.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked when the officer connected.

“The SCS got a facial hit on the photo of Vance you sent,” the officer said. “Apparently, it belonged to a model of Artificial.”

“An Artificial?” Jonathan asked. That matched with what Rade had revealed about Vance.

“That’s right. The X51-A model. An outdated variant first put into production over seventy years ago. The entries for that model were mysteriously wiped from the SCS cloud storage, and the analyst only found it because of an overlooked article on the X51-A that was cited in the InterGalNet history archive.”

“Interesting,” Jonathan said. Someone certainly wanted to ensure that no one ever found out the real identity of the Artificial. “Thank you for the news, Lieutenant. Though it doesn’t really tell us any more about what this Vance character hoped to achieve, nor who the Artificial was actually working for.”

“No,” the comm officer agreed. “But the SCS promises to keep us in the loop if anything further is discovered.”

Jonathan doubted the SCS would find anything else. It was obvious Vance didn’t work for them, but for some other clandestine government agency that was even blacker. Jonathan doubted he would ever know the truth. “Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, in fact,” the comm officer said. “Barrick wants to talk to you about the prisoner we captured.”

Lieutenant Commander Wolf had successfully captured one of the humanoids with his modified Avenger. The transfer shuttle had continually stunned the humanoid with psi-blasts all the way back to the ship, and after landing aboard and pressurizing the hangar, a specialized crew of MA robots had cut the humanoid out of the super-suit. Another MA injected a sedative—Connie had previously prepared the full genome map of the humanoids, and had determined they were ninety-nine percent human, with DNA basically equivalent to that of Neanderthals. Unsurprisingly, normal sedatives worked, and the being was knocked unconscious.

They had carried the captive to Connie’s makeshift lab in cargo bay seven, where a psi-shielded work area had been arranged in the form of a large tent. The humanoid was clamped in to a bed inside the tent and allowed to awaken. So far it hadn’t attempted communication, but that could be because all the technicians in the lab wore psi-shielded spacesuits. Connie wanted to enter the tent unshielded, but so far Jonathan had refused her, not wanting to lose any members of his crew. He was well aware the effects a powerful telepath could have on the human mind.

“Tap him in,” Jonathan told the comm officer.

As he waited for the telepath to connect, he thought of what else had transpired in the wake of the fighter battle led by Lieutenant Commander Wolf out there. The mission had been somewhat of an experiment, but because of the success the Avengers had had against the super-suits, Jonathan had given the order for the fleet to modify the Cobras aboard Avengers fleet-wide, under the direction of Lieutenant Connie Myers. The hope was that by the time those super-suits engaged again, the enemy would face an entire fleet of modified Avengers ready to take them down.

“Hello Captain,” Barrick transmitted voice-only from the Raptor.

“What can I do for you?” Jonathan asked.

“I hear you’ve captured a certain telepathic prisoner?” Barrick replied.

“We have,” Jonathan said. “I suppose you have some advice for interrogating him.”

“My psychic tolerance is high,” Barrick said. “And I’d certainly volunteer to interrogate him, except—”

“Except we’ll never allow you aboard,” Jonathan finished for him.

“That is correct,” Barrick conceded. “There is one other person with a high psychic tolerance on your ship, however.”

“Let me guess,” Jonathan said. “Me.”

There was no way he was going to step into that tent in cargo bay seven unshielded, no matter what Barrick told him.

“I was thinking of Bridgette...” Barrick said.

Jonathan was quiet for several moments. “Ah.”

“Yes,” Barrick said. “When the humanoid tries to form a link with Commander Cray’s wife, she will be able to receive it, while simultaneously fending off any mind attacks. I’m sure she related the story to you about how she had me attempt the psychic termination of her pregnancy, and my resultant failure? Trust me when I tell you: she’s the only one aboard who can safely communicate with that being.”

“I’ll consider it,” Jonathan said. “Though communication with the captured humanoid is not a high priority right now.”

“It should be,” Barrick said ominously. “In fact, if you want to win this, communicating with that humanoid could be key.” The telepath tapped out.

What the hell does he know?

Jonathan called Robert to his office.

After the commander had settled himself, Jonathan imparted what the telepath had shared with him.

“So what do you think?” Jonathan said. “Do you feel comfortable allowing Bridgette unshielded into cargo bay seven?”

Robert shook his head. “That lying sack of shit. He’s got a thing for harming my wife, I tell you. I won’t allow her to participate. She’s been through enough. Get anyone else to do it, but her. Hell, I’ll do it.”

“She did endure Barrick’s psi attack when she was aboard the Raakarr vessel,” Jonathan said. “She told us herself during the debriefing.”

“How do we know Barrick didn’t fake the whole thing?” Robert said.

Jonathan considered his words carefully. “Barrick tells me he can see the future. In the past, he has hinted at events that have come to pass, so at the moment, I’m inclined to believe him. If he says Bridgette is the best choice to interrogate the humanoid, then she probably is.”

Robert shook his head. “I won’t allow it.”

“I’d like to ask Bridgette directly,” Jonathan said. “The fate of the fleet, and the entire human race, could be at stake.”

Anger flared in Robert’s eyes, but then he sat back and folded his arms. “You’re the captain.”

“I won’t order her to do it if she doesn’t want to,” Jonathan said. “But she’s a strong woman, Robert. I believe she can do this. Let me talk to her.”

Robert hesitated. Then: “You should know, there’s a specific reason why I arranged for Eugene to berth with us. And it’s not just because I wanted the child close.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan said.

“Go visit Bridgette,” Robert said. “And you’ll find out for yourself.”

twenty-four

Jonathan made his way toward the commander’s quarters. When he reached the door, he used his aReal to alert the occupants. According to Maxwell, she had no visitors and was alone with her child Eugene.

The hatch abruptly opened and Bridgette barged out. Before Jonathan knew what was happening, the hatch had slammed shut behind her.

“Why hello Jonathan!” Bridgette said anxiously. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

She only reached up to Jonathan’s chest in height. Her deep blue eyes always seemed at odds with her dark hair, which framed her face in straight tresses that day. She had the cutest button nose, and the most flawless skin of any woman he knew. Then again, he could see the start of crow’s feet stamping the outside of her eyes and smile lines that weren’t there two years ago. She hadn’t lost her pregnancy weight, which was probably a good thing, considering he had always felt she was a little too thin in the past.

For a moment he found himself reminded of the woman he had abandoned on the mountaintop. It was the porcelain skin that did it, and the nose, and the too-blue eyes.

His gaze drifted suspiciously to the sealed hatch. “Can we talk inside?”

“Oh no.” Bridgette smiled nervously. “Out here is just fine. The place is a mess.”

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Maxwell, open the hatch to Robert and Bridgette Cray’s stateroom.”

The hatch slid aside.

“Jonathan, please don’t!” Bridgette grabbed at his arm.

The pleading in her voice stopped him. He stared into the quarters. “Why does it look like you’ve got some kind of tent filling up most of the space in your berthing area?”

Bridgette released him.

Jonathan glanced at her, and she lowered her eyes.

He stepped inside and then ducked into the tent. He realized immediately that the fabric was intended to shield from a psi-attack. He had seen the insides of such a canopy many times before during his tenure aboard the Raakarr vessel Talon, where he had been forced to berth in a smaller tent to shield himself from Barrick. It was empty of all furniture. It—

He found himself standing on a stream in the middle of a jungle. Thick foliage lined either shore, along with tall fern-like trees. Overhead the blue sky was clear. The water at his feet was ankle deep and froze his toes. He smelled a mixture of dirt and pine, reminding him of the dusty scent that came after a rainstorm. Indeed, droplets trickled repeatedly from the branches nearby and formed ripples as they hit the stream, which itself seemed formed from the rainwater of a recent storm. Some kind of jungle birds cawed in the distance. Overhead, he saw what looked like pterodactyls flying overhead.

Interesting aReal virtual augmentation.

And then he realized that his aReal glasses didn’t have the ability to simulate any olfactory or touch sensations: the smell of the rain, the cold water at his feet, the warm breeze blowing into his face.

Jonathan tore off his aReal.

The environment remained intact around him.

What the hell...

He heard a strange hooting, growing in volume. A pack of feathered velociraptors burst from the jungle ahead and splashed across the stream. They hadn’t noticed him. That is, until one in the rear swung its head toward him and then froze. It let out a half-mewling, half-clicking sound, and the others stopped, too.

All claws and teeth, the creatures approached. Backing away, Jonathan put his aReal back on, hoping for some menu to appear that would allow him to dismiss the environment.

“Maxwell, where am I?” he said. “Maxwell?” The blood rushed past his ears in unison with his pounding heart, nearly consuming his hearing.

In moments the deadly predators surrounded him. One of the man-sized dinosaurs stepped forward. It swept its right hindfoot along the water’s surface, hooking him behind the ankle and tripping him.

He splashed into the stream. His aggressor planted a clawed foot on his head, pinning him down. A long, sickle-shaped talon drooped across his vision. His nose was barely above the stream’s surface: he swallowed some water and coughed violently.

When he ceased his coughing fit, the dinosaur leaned forward and lowered its long neck so that its reptilian eyes were staring him in the face. It exhaled loudly through its nostrils twice in rapid succession, like an angry bull.

It opened its maw, revealing a row of serrated teeth meant for rending flesh.

Then it proceeded to lick his face. Moist, humid stains were left on his aReal glasses with each pass.

All of a sudden the velociraptor raised its head. The others cocked their necks, too, as if hearing something. Then the pack sped away, vanishing into the thick jungle.

Jonathan clambered to his feet, his heart still pounding.

He saw Eugene standing on the shore beside him, looking up at him. He recognized the child from the photos Robert had shared with him at their dinners. The two-year-old had an impassive expression on his face.

Jonathan felt rough hands grab him from behind and he was pulled backward. The environment returned to that of the ship as the tent fabric fell down in front of him. Bridgette dragged him out of the compartment and the hatch shut behind him.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan said when he caught his breath. He noticed that the moisture smears had vanished from his aReal glasses along with the rest of the illusion.

None of that had been real.

“We just finished watching a dinosaur story,” Bridgette said. “I think it frightened him.”

Jonathan merely stared at her.

She sighed. “He’s a powerful telepath. And doesn’t know how to control his abilities. Yet. It’s exhausting. Like living in a virtual world that changes by the minute. It’s like I’m back in my Vaddict days. Sometimes I don’t know what’s real anymore. One of his favorite tricks is to replace Robert with someone else. Sometimes it’ll be Stanley. Sometimes you. But he’s never seen either of you, so I’m not sure where he gets your faces from.”

“He replaces Robert with me?” Jonathan asked. “Like when?”

Her face reddened, and she looked away. “For dinner, and whatnot.”

“I see now why you’ve been hiding Eugene away in your private room,” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” Bridgette said. “We made the decision early on before things got out of control in the nursery.” She folded her arms. “So. Why did you come, again?”

“I need your help,” Jonathan said.

She seemed puzzled. “My help?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “We’ve captured one of the humanoids from the Elder ship. Alive. He’s human, or a human ancestor anyway. Psychic capable. Barrick believes you would be best person to withstand a psi link with it.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why would he believe that?”

“He mentioned his attempt to miscarry your child.”

“I see.” She seemed hesitant. “I never told anyone, not even Robert, but... it wasn’t me alone who resisted Barrick. I linked with Eugene somehow. And you’ve seen what Eugene can do, right? It was all him. His own self-preservation instinct, acting through me.”

“Can you link with him again?” Jonathan asked.

Bridgette hesitated. “I don’t know. Is this humanoid in a psi-shielded container of some kind?”

“He is in a psi-shielded tent, yes,” Jonathan said. “You would have to go inside.”

“Eugene is also in a psi-shielded tent...” Bridgette said.

“So that means linking is out of the question,” Jonathan said.

“I would think so,” Bridgette said. “I’d have to bring him along. And I wouldn’t put him in danger like that. Besides, I’d have to suit him up the whole way, otherwise we’d affect half the crew as we hurried to cargo bay seven.”

“I never said the humanoid was in cargo bay seven,” Jonathan told her.

She smiled faintly. “You caught me.”

“Your latent abilities have become more powerful in Eugene’s presence, haven’t they?” Jonathan said.

She sighed. “Yes. But I’ve also been practicing with the AI trainers, too. I have to. Or else I won’t be able to raise him properly.”

“You’re going to get yourself kicked off this ship,” Jonathan said. “You know that fleet protocol doesn’t allow telepaths aboard flagships at this time.”

“You’re going to kick me off?” Bridgette said.

“No, but Maxwell will,” Jonathan said. “The AI is a stickler for regulations.”

“She is not an officially recognized telepath,” Maxwell interjected. “Therefore, unless she does something to endanger the crew, I have no grounds to forcibly eject her from the ship.”

“Thank you, Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “And please, before you ever forcibly eject her from the ship, ask me.”

“Of course, Captain,” Maxwell replied serenely.

Jonathan returned his attention to Bridgette. “If you do this, it has to be you alone. I can’t authorize your bringing a two-year-old into a potentially dangerous situation with a psychic being.”

Though in truth, from what he had seen, he felt it was the humanoid who would be in danger, not Eugene.

“As I already said, I wouldn’t dare bring him.” She paced back and forth for a moment, then halted to turn toward him. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Find out who the humanoid is,” Jonathan said. “And what he was doing aboard that ship. Find out why the Elder are here. What they want. Find out how we can convince them to leave us alone, or barring that, how to destroy their ship.”

“Is there no one else?” Bridgette said. “No other telepaths in the fleet?”

“There are a few, yes,” Jonathan said. “Though as I mentioned, none are allowed aboard flagships at this time.”

“Except for me,” Bridgette stated.

“As Maxwell said, you’re not an official telepath,” Jonathan replied.

“But if it meant saving Earth, you would break that rule,” Bridgette said.

“In a heartbeat,” Jonathan agreed. “Though my fear in bringing another telepath aboard is creating another Barrick. After he linked with the Raakarr, he became far more powerful.”

“What if the same thing happens to me?” Bridgette said.

“At least I trust you,” Jonathan said. “Some random telepath? I don’t think so.”

She seemed to consider his words for several moments.

“If I were more powerful, it might be easier to deal with Eugene...” she said.

“There’s no guarantee that will be the outcome,” Jonathan said. “You go in the psi-shielded tent with that humanoid, you might not ever return to consciousness. You’re my friend, and my first officer’s wife. I wouldn’t ask this of you unless I believed you were the best choice.”

“I thought you said it was Barrick who believed I was the best choice?” Bridgette told him.

“He does.” Jonathan reached out and wrapped his hands around hers. “But I do, too. Especially after talking to you. In fact, I’m convinced of it more than ever. The entire future of humanity could be resting in your capable palms. Will you do it?”

She looked him directly in the eye. Without blinking, she said: “I’ll do it.”

twenty-five

Bridgette stood in cargo bay seven before the green tinted tent containing the humanoid. The tent was opaque, so she could not see him. But she could hear his soft breathing behind the fabric.

“Can he understand our words?” Bridgette said.

“The subject’s brain is close enough to our own that we were able to install a language processing chip,” Lieutenant Connie Myers told her. “The chip processes English, Mandarin, Japanese, Russian, French and Italian. We know the subject can understand the words, because we’ve been monitoring his brain. The comprehension region lights up when we read sentences to him. But so far, he has refused to answer. Or rather, he seems unable to. The subject hasn’t used his vocal cords his entire life. We tried playing back an AI language training program for him to help form the words, the kind of stuff you’d give a newborn baby, but he hasn’t cooperated.”

Bridgette nodded.

“Here, wear this.” The chief scientist attached a small device to Bridgette’s waist. “Press the button, and I’ll send the MAs to extract you immediately.”

Bridgette glanced at the robot MAs that stood guard on either side of the tent. Faceless, lifeless things, all sharp angles and electroactuators. She often found it hard to believe such beings were self-aware. The sentience of Artificials was much easier to believe as at least they looked human.

She reached down and fingered the device. “If I’m unconscious, the device isn’t going to help, is it?”

“We’ll be monitoring your brain activity the whole time you’re in there as well,” Connie said. “If you lose consciousness at any time, or anything else happens like a stoppage in breathing, we’ll extricate you immediately. If your brain frequencies become too erratic, we’ll also remove you.”

“How will you be able to tell the difference between erratic brain frequencies and extraordinary psychic events, without a baseline?” Bridgette asked.

“We have a baseline,” the chief scientist told her. “When Barrick underwent his psychic interactions with the first Raakarr alien we captured, we monitored him, too. We weren’t able to pull him out in time, however, because we didn’t have the proper baseline.”

“So Barrick is my baseline,” Bridgette said doubtfully.

“Yes,” Connie replied. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to intervene before you reach the point of no return.”

Bridgette sighed. She turned her attention to the green canopy, then she lifted the entry fabric and entered before she could change her mind.

The gentle glow from a vertical light bar illuminated an operating table with a humanoid clamped to the surface. Steel restraints surrounded his wrists, ankles, and midsection. He was naked save for a cloth that draped over his hips and covered his privates. Definitely human, though his features were markedly Neanderthal—receding forehead, protruding brows, elongated jawbone. She had expected him to be dark haired and brown eyed, but his hair was bleach blonde, and his eyes a stark shade of blue, similar to her own.

She spotted the small spherical camera in one corner, beside the light bar, then turned toward the table.

As she approached, those all-too-human eyes looked at her pleadingly. She felt a sudden overwhelming pity and reached toward one of the clamps that held his wrist.

“Bridgette, what are you doing?” the chief scientist’s voice came over the cargo bay circuit.

Bridgette retracted her fingers as if something had bitten her. “Sorry. I had a sudden urge to free him.”

“The subject is already getting in your head,” Connie said. “Be careful.”

Bridgette took several deep breaths, then reviewed what she planned to ask him.

“Hello,” Bridgette said. “I’m Bridgette.”

No answer. Those eyes simply stared at her, seeming emotionless now.

Unsure of what to do, she held her hand to her chest. “Bridgette.”

Still nothing. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Who are you?” she said. “Why do the Elder attack Earth?”

She thought she saw a hint of a smile form on those lips, but otherwise the humanoid did not speak.

“Are you one of our ancestors?” she continued. “Why were you aboard that ship?”

Nothing.

She wondered if the language processing chip in his head was really working.

So far she had detected nothing from the humanoid at all. Her abilities had come along enough that normally she could get a slight read on people without trying too hard: a sense of their emotional state, or an errant thought here or there. But from this humanoid she got nothing at all. He must have been guarding his mind.

She gazed uncertainly at those unblinking eyes.

Can I initiate the psychic connection the same way I learned to do with Eugene?

Barrick had once told her alien minds could not initiate a psychic connection, and that humans had to do it first. The telepath had been speaking of the Raakarr at the time. But both Jonathan and Robert had received visions from the Elder “eggs,” so that didn’t hold true for all aliens. Perhaps Barrick had been lying. Well, whatever the case, the individual lying before her was human enough not to count as alien anyway. So it should have been able to attempt the connection first.

And yet it had not.

She decided that she would have to attempt the psi link.

The soft-back chair she had asked for was present beside the bed. She sat in it and leaned against the soft padding. When she was comfortable, she closed her eyes.

The darkness was marred only by the phosphenes produced by the pressure of her eyelids on her visual system. Ignoring those dancing pinpoints of light, she cleared her mind, and went to that place above thought and reality.

The phosphenes vanished. Only a small, blue sphere floated in the dark. A tiny bundle of energy. Her.

She reached out in the vast darkness and found the humanoid’s mind. Thin ribbons of red whirled into existence, slowly gathering into a red sphere that resided near her own.

After the opposing object solidified, she reached toward it, thin blue tendrils emerging from her sphere. When a lead thread of energy tentatively touched it, something entirely unexpected happened.

The red sphere quadrupled in size. Red tendrils erupted from the opposing object in thick, twisting masses, cutting away her tiny threads and wrapping around her sphere.

Just like that, she was on the defensive. Struggling to prevent the red sphere from engulfing her. It had pulled her to its surface, and was slowly drawing her inside. She resisted, throwing up all the psychic defenses she had learned while dealing with Eugene, but the mind she fought against had a lifetime of experience and knew how to defeat them all. She was losing herself.

I’m going to fail Jonathan. And humanity.

And then she was inside the sphere.

The darkness was replaced by light. She stood on a plain. Brontosauruses towered over the grass, eating the expansive leaves of trees whose canopies reached to the sky. Other herbivorous dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes roamed the grass around her, devouring the trees and other shrubs. None of them paid her any attention: she was merely an observer. 

She glanced down at herself and extended her arms. She was present bodily, and wearing the same blouse and trousers she had worn to the tent.

The reality around her seemed completely real, though she knew it was not. She was immersed in a psychic world, an experience intimately familiar to her thanks to Eugene. She remained calm. Collected.

She sensed no malevolence as she observed the scene. Still, she wasn’t sure if the humanoid was trying to control her mind in some way, perhaps using this scene to distract her while he installed some subtle subconscious suggestion.

As she turned to take in the entirety of the scene, she was taken aback by what she saw hovering over the plain behind her. In the distance, the Möbius strip vessel of the Elder hovered close to surface, eating up the horizon. An expansive ramp had descended from the ship to the plains. Silver, pod-like craft roved through the air, herding a pack of four-legged herbivores toward the enormous vessel. The dinosaurs stampeded up the ramp and vanished into the ship.

The scene changed.

The towering trees and dinosaurs were gone. The grass had transformed, becoming shorter, darker. A tribe of thickly-bearded Neanderthals were gathered nearby. Clothed in loincloths, armed with wooden spears capped with flints, they stared eastward.

Bridgette followed their gaze. Once more the massive ship of the Elder devoured the horizon in the distance. Closer, a small metallic pod resided near the gathered Neanderthals. It hovered seven feet above the ground; hanging down to the surface underneath it were several long silver tentacles of different sizes, some so thin as to be ethereal. The front portion of the pod’s cockpit was translucent, revealing a glowing being inside. The light was too bright to make out any features. Overall, the pod reminded Bridgette of a jellyfish with a passenger inside. It was obviously an exploratory craft of some kind that had come from the Elder ship.

One of those silvery tentacles underneath the pod extended. The tribe members tensed, raising their spears as if to throw them. The tentacle paused in front of the lead Neanderthal, and remained there. It seemed to have five diaphanous fingers. One of them unfurled toward the man.

The leader stood for several moments, seeming uncertain, then he slowly lowered his spear. He reached out gingerly with his free hand. His index finger approached the lead digit of the tentacle. Then the two touched.

“Humanity’s true first contact,” someone said from beside Bridgette.

She jumped slightly. She realized one of the Neanderthals was standing beside her. He was clothed the same as the others, and also had a blond beard. While no one else so far in the psychic experience had acknowledged her presence, this one was looking right at her. After a moment, she realized it was the humanoid from the lab. She hadn’t recognized him at first because of the unkempt hair and beard.

“You may call me Marin,” the man said without moving his lips. “My vocal cords are not developed enough to speak the words of your language. We skipped that phase of evolution and moved directly to the telepathic stage.”

“I’m Bridgette,” she answered.

“I know,” Marin said, once more without moving his lips. That was eerie as hell.

“What is this?” Bridgette waved toward the Neanderthals. “Why are you showing me this?”

“You asked why we were aboard the ship,” Marin said. “This is why. They gathered us before the extinction level event ended our species on Earth. Just as they gathered the dinosaurs. Those you name the Elder once saw themselves as great preservers of life in all its forms. Unfortunately, the Elder were forced to flee this galaxy only a thousand years after the scene you see before you. When the Khrolosse came.”

“Khrolosse?” the name sounded vaguely familiar.

“An ancient creature, more an interdimensional virus than anything sentient,” Marin said. “It manifests as a multi-phasic retrovirus in this reality, converting select organelles of hosts into something that can manufacture the higher-dimensional energy the Khrolosse consumes, killing the hosts in the process. Hundreds of worlds had fallen to the Khrolosse before the Elder fled.”

“Does the... Khrolosse... still exist?”

“We do not know,” Marin said. “The Elder destroyed all Slipstreams leading to that region of the galaxy. Either the Khrolosse starved itself into nonexistence, or it has expanded coreward, away from your space. There is also a chance it is hibernating.”

“I don’t really like the sound of that latter option,” Bridgette said. “So what happened to your species after the Elder collected you?”

“We became honored servants,” Marin said. “They tweaked our genetic code, accelerated our evolutionary progression toward our ideal state so that we attained psi abilities far sooner. They also helped us discover the cure to all diseases, including age. I am over four thousand years old. When your branch of humanity was still in its Iron Age, I was born. Some of my brothers who lost their lives in the fighting out there were even older.”

Bridgette gazed at the distant ship and watched as the Neanderthals willingly walked up the ramp and boarded. “They’ve obviously gathered different species under their wings other than you and the dinosaurs?”

“Of course,” Marin said. “But we became their most dedicated servants. Our intelligence and creative thinking impressed them so greatly that they elevated us above all the rest, and assigned us the care of their offspring among other duties—in those rare occasions when they actually reproduced. We are also their skirmishers, as you witnessed during your attack run.”

“Interesting.” Bridgette had heard enough about their background. It was time to start leading the conversation toward her main objectives...

twenty-six

They once saw themselves as the great preservers of life, you say?” Bridgette regarded him scornfully. “What happened to change all of that? To turn them into the enforcers they have become instead? The self-proclaimed intergalactic police, ready to terminate a race for violating their secret laws?”

“The Elder still preserve life,” Marin said. “In fact, that is why they are here.”

“Really?” Bridgette said sarcastically. “Last I heard, the Elder were trying to rip the magnetosphere away from our homeworld. I don’t see the life-preserving aspect of that.”

Marin didn’t answer.

“You have to tell them to leave our space,” Bridgette said. “They can’t do this to us. They have no right. Humanity doesn’t deserve this.”

“The Elder will not listen to me,” Marin said. “They will not stop. When their ship has been repaired, they will return to your planet and finish what they have started. Your Earth will become but a memory.”

“It’s your planet, too,” Bridgette said.

“Not anymore,” Marin answered.

“At least tell me why they’re doing this to us?” Bridgette said. “Help me understand. First they aid humanity, or at least the Neanderthals and dinosaurs, and now they exterminate us. It doesn’t make sense.”

“You know why,” Marin said. “You have destroyed billions of their Children.”

“The Elk?” Bridgette told him. “We were tricked by the Zarafe into doing that. They told us we were bombing an Elk colony world with a minimal population. They lied. The Elder should be attacking the Zarafe, not us.”

“The Zarafe might have been the hand,” Marin replied. “But you were the blade. The human battle group deployed its planet weapon to the Elk homeworld and destroyed all life residing there. The Elder are not pleased, to say the least. They have come to a decision: humanity is too warlike, and poses too great a threat to the rest of this galaxy. If left unchecked, they fear you will prove a greater threat than even the Khrolosse to the remaining races. So you see, by eliminating you now, they do in fact protect the rest of the galaxy. Preserving life, in the end.”

“So you’re going to kill all of us?”

“Not all,” Marin said. “A handful will be spared, as the Neanderthals were, and brought into the Elder care.”

“Turned into brainwashed slaves, like you.”

“We are not slaves,” Marin said. “But honored servants.”

“You can’t do this,” Bridgette said. “We don’t deserve this. We’re a good people. You can’t condemn all of us for the actions of a few. We’re not the Khrolosse. Punish those who instigated this instead.”

“You mean those you call the Zarafe?” Marin said.

“Them, and the human leaders. Punish those who staff the upper levels of our government and military bureaucracies, those who gave the order to destroy the Elk world in the first place. We’ll gladly give them to you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Marin said.

“Don’t punish us all,” Bridgette pleaded one final time.

“I’m sorry,” Marin said. “The Elder don’t see it that way. Humanity was given a warning. You were told to tread carefully; to use the power of the planet killer wisely. You did not heed that warning. And now you must pay the price. I am sorry.”

“If they won’t see reason,” Bridgette said. “We’re going to have to fight, you know that don’t you?”

“You will do what you have to do,” Marin said. “Just as we will.”

It was time to take the plunge.

“You’re going to tell me how to defeat them,” Bridgette said.

Marin cocked one eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

Bridgette hardened herself for what she knew must come.

“If you help us, we’ll let you live,” she said. “I can’t promise we’ll let you go anytime soon, but at least you’ll have your life.”

Marin smirked. “Even if you told the truth, I would not betray the Elder simply to save myself. You are a greater fool than I thought if you believe that. I have lived over four thousand years. Do you truly think I cling so dearly to this life? I would rather die now at the hands of my descendants than to do so twenty thousand years hence, knowing that I betrayed those I loved more than anything in the universe. And if I truly must die now, I do so knowing that I have lived fully, many times over.” His face twisted into a scowl. “Now leave this place and impart everything you have learned to your precious captain, before I decide to wipe your mind of every last memory, including the knowledge of how to control your own body, leaving you a living vegetable.”

Bridgette turned so that she was facing him fully, and planted her feet. They had no planet killers left. Nukes weren’t powerful enough to cause any damage. Humanity needed a way to win this. She remembered Jonathan’s words: she could be humanity’s last hope. 

“Tell me how to destroy the Elder,” she said, mustering all the psi force she could manage behind the words.

“As you wish,” Marin said.

And then the humanoid was gone, as was the land around her.

She floated disembodied in darkness once more. The dueling spheres lay before her, one red, one blue. The tiny blue struggled to emerge from the larger red, which had earlier engulfed it. The blue was only a quarter submerged at the moment; it seemed on the cusp of escape, but then tentacles of energy repeatedly lashed out from the red and the blue was once more sucked inside, crushing her will along with it.

She resided in a dungeon of some kind. Her naked body was smeared in dirt and grime. Cold stones lay at her feet and back. Her arms were shackled above her head, joined together at the wrists by an impervious iron clasp. A torch glowed in a bracket beside her, the flame providing a small pool of flickering light that barely penetrated the darkness around her.

How did I get here? Where am I?

Wasn’t she just on a starship? Or... what?

Something moved in the darkness ahead of her.

Eugene? Is this your doing?

From the murk emerged a giant centipede. The terrible thing grabbed her bound wrists in its mandibles, and reared its segmented body, tearing the iron clasp from the wall and lifting her bound body from the stone floor. A maw opened in the middle of that torso, and writhing insects swarmed out. Worms and beetles landed on her body, whipping their wings, skittering all over her naked flesh, crawling into her mouth and nostrils and other bodily orifices.

She struggled against her bindings and screamed, but the sound quickly became a muted gargle as more of those insects shoved themselves down the wider opening she had provided them. She felt everything keenly. Pain, everywhere. And repulsion. Violation.

The insects swept away and she collapsed to her knees. She was in a pure white room now. Actually, no, it wasn’t a room. Everything around her was completely white. She couldn’t see any demarcations to indicate walls, or even a floor or ceiling. She knew that there was in fact a floor, because when she touched the area beside her feet, her fingers flattened against an invisible surface. But otherwise, she saw only that infinite whiteness.

She sensed movement and looked up.

Eugene stood in front of her.

“I knew it was you,” she said. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She had experienced psychic attacks from her son before, but never had they been so intense. Especially not since she had begun to properly school him.

He walked up to her. Since she was still slumped down on her knees, he easily stood the same height as her head. He reached out, grabbed a small, squirming beetle from her face, and tossed it aside.

“Let me out, Eugene,” she said.

“Mommy, you have to kill the captain,” her son said.

Bridgette’s eyes widened, and she shook her head frantically. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” Eugene said. “Killing him will end this war, and save humanity.”

“No,” she said. “It will doom humanity. He’s the only one standing between us and the Elder.”

“The Elder want him dead,” Eugene said.

“They want us all dead,” Bridgette said. “And killing Jonathan will only help them.”

“They only want him,” Eugene said. “I promise you. Kill the captain and this will all end.”

And then she was in the captain’s mess. Having dinner with Robert, Stanley and Jonathan.

Robert was laughing at some joke Jonathan said, while Stanley was scowling as usual.

Bridgette wrapped her fingers tightly around her utensils.

Kill the captain.

Jonathan looked at her. “What do you think, Bridgette? Should we promote Robert to the head of the sanitation department?”

“Demote, you mean,” Robert said.

“Hardly,” Jonathan said. “A change of that sort is definitely a promotion. Think of how quickly your days will pass without having to do all that digital paperwork.”

Staring at the captain, Bridgette lifted her knife and fork. She stood up.

Jonathan eyed her uncertainly. “Bridgette? Is everything all right?” His gaze flicked to her utensils.

She spun around and stabbed her knife and fork into the bulkhead behind her. Blood oozed from the metal surface.

A humanoid slowly coalesced from the bulkhead. His chest bled where the utensils had dug into his flesh. 

The humanoid grabbed her wrists before fully forming, and pulled her arms roughly away from him.

The environment around them blinked, and she lay in her bunk with Robert. The light from the HLED lamp on the nightstand was dim.

Robert held her arms. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m afraid,” she found herself saying. “I’m not sure I have the strength to raise a child like Eugene.”

“We’ll both find the strength.” Robert caressed her side. “We’ll do this together.”

Bridgette smiled bravely. But as she looked into those compassionate eyes, she realized something was off about them.

This isn’t Robert. None of this is real.

“I know who you are,” she whispered.

A red sphere overlaid her vision. It seemed translucent, so that she could still see Robert behind it. She poured all her being into that sphere, reaching deep inside herself, siphoning everything she had. If she failed, there would be nothing left of her, she knew. So she might as well risk it all.

Nothing was happening. The humanoid she faced was over four thousand years old. Of course she had no chance against him. It was hopeless.

And yet she had occasionally beaten Eugene in similar psi duels. In those duels, Eugene’s sphere was about twice the size as this one. That had to mean Eugene was stronger than Marin. And if she could occasionally defeat Eugene, than she had a good chance of beating Marin now.

The realization spurred her to try even harder.

Finally a sliver of blue sprouted from that sphere. Then another. Tendrils from the first reached out toward similar threads from the second, until the two joined, thickening. Another blue sliver emerged nearby, and it too linked with the others. More and more blue kept bursting from the sphere, threads of energy linking with one another until the red sphere was completely engulfed.

“This is my world,” she said.

She stood in the white expanse once more. Her arm was extended in front of her. Her fingers were wrapped around Marin’s neck.

She released him, and chains formed from the air behind him, wrapping around his arms and legs. Stone walls, ceiling, and floor appeared around him, similar to the dungeon that had held her moments before.

She reached out, and shoved her hand through his skull. There was no gore—her fingers simply passed through as if his head wasn’t there.

Marin screamed. 

The scene vanished, and she was hurtling through the deep space. She had no body.

“You will tell me how to defeat the Elder,” she said. Her voice boomed through the void.

Though the scene around her was one of stars and space, she felt like she was hurtling through different neural pathways. Ahead of her, she sensed resistance. She shoved at that resistance.

A brighter star appeared among the points of light ahead. It quickly grew larger. It was the Elder ship.

Below her she caught sight of a cigar-like shape, tinted silver, hurtling toward the Möbius strip vessel with her.

Abruptly she decelerated, while the silver object continued forward and struck the ship. Where it impacted, the surface was eaten away. As she watched, a sixth of the entire ship dissolved before the effect abated and stopped.

“The disintegration bombs,” Bridgette said. “Those are the key, then. Tell me how to get them.”

Her vision shifted, and she accelerated in another direction. The Elder ship receded beside her.

In front of her one of the scavenger ships rapidly came into view. In moments she was entirely inside, roving the many passageways and compartments. She stopped in one particular compartment that was filled to the brim with silver disintegration bombs.

“And how do we use them?” she said.

The view accelerated once more, moving outside the ship, flying across the disjointed hull. It paused beside a cannon. The tube broke away from the hull, bringing with it a significant portion of the compartment it had been joined to. The fragment flew away from the scavenger, and the mixed human and alien fleet came into view ahead. The cannon halted beside a Raakarr dart ship.

“The Raakarr can use these weapons,” Bridgette said. “Thank you.”

She released her hold on the humanoid.

The void fell away.

She opened her eyes. Breathing hard, she found herself back in the tent. Marin lay on the table in front of her. He was just as winded, judging from his panting. As he gazed at her, a single tear trickled down his cheek.

Bridgette stood, and left the tent.

twenty-seven

Jonathan sat in his office, contemplating everything Bridgette had revealed to him during her debriefing with himself and Robert. The commander was still in attendance, seated across from him. Bridgette’s hologram had vanished only moments ago.

“Do you want to go to her?” Jonathan asked, despite her reassurances before disconnecting that she was all right and just wanted some quiet time.

“No,” Robert said. “I’ll see her tonight after my shift. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years as a married man, it’s that when my wife says she needs some time alone, she means it.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “She seemed exhausted. I respect her for taking the time to report what she learned so soon. Though a part of me worries the Neanderthal has somehow misled her.”

“You don’t think the disintegration bombs will harm the Elder ship?” Robert asked.

“I’m not certain they will, no,” Jonathan said. “I’d hate to expend all that effort securing one, only to find out we’ve been had. Though I suppose it’s the only hope we have at the moment. None of our other weapons can even dent its damn hull. The question is, how are we going to get one?”

“That’s the question of the year,” Robert said.

What Bridgette had revealed was almost unbelievable. How the Elder had collected dinosaurs. How the Neanderthals came to be in the service of the alien race. How the Elder considered themselves “protectors” of life, but had gone on to judge humanity unworthy of this galaxy.

The most important part was what she had revealed at the end: how to destroy the Elder ship.

Apparently she knew precisely where the disintegration bombs were stored aboard the scavenger vessels. She had drawn a quick blueprint of the ship for them, with a promise to flesh it out in more detail later. Though Jonathan had to wonder if that blueprint would be applicable to all scavenger vessels. Surely they had different classes of ships. Then again, all the ships actually looked identical when viewed from the outside. The nanobots were obviously running the same build program.

A cannon fired those disintegration bombs, and if they could remove it from the scavenger ship, Bridgette suggested the Raakarr, as descendants of the Elder, might be able to jury-rig the weapon and its firing mechanism to one of their own vessels. It was a small hope, but it was all they had.

“I’m going to tap in Wethersfield,” Jonathan said. “Let’s see if we can get Valor to confirm a few things.”

Jonathan contacted the liaison officer aboard the Raptor and explained the situation.

The Artificial replied several moments later: “Barrick says even if you can supply the cannon, and ensure that it’s free of infectious nanobots, Valor doesn’t know if they will actually be able to mount the thing. Even if they can, there is no guarantee the interface will work properly. They might be able to fire the disintegration bombs, but the weapons won’t activate. Or the weapons might activate before launching and disintegrate the involved ship. Because of that, Valor outright refuses to install the cannon on the Raptor. But one of the dart ships would make a suitable candidate.”

“That’s fine,” Jonathan transmitted. “Hmm. Actually, a dart ship you say? Shouldn’t we be putting it in something more powerful? Like a capital ship?”

“I’ll have Barrick ask Valor.” A moment later: “Barrick says Valor is adamant. He doesn’t want to risk destroying any of his more advanced warships. We can always order him to do it when the time comes, of course.”

“No, it probably doesn’t matter,” Jonathan said. “I can understand Valor’s reasoning. I wouldn’t want to install a weapon like that on my most powerful ships either. We’ll make do with a dart ship when the time comes. Thank you, Wethersfield, Captain out.”

He sat back and looked at his commander.

“So, have you considered how we’re actually going to get our hands on those bombs and the launcher yet?” Robert said.

Jonathan glanced at his tactical map. The Elder ship’s destination hadn’t been Jupiter after all: it had halted in the asteroid belt halfway between Mars and Jupiter next to Vesta, third largest asteroid in the solar system with a diameter of five hundred kilometers. The rock was rich in magnesium and iron pyroxenes. Several privately owned corporations had once run mining operations on the asteroid to harvest those minerals, but the quarries had been destroyed during the Elder invasion.

The five scavenger ships had landed on the surface of the asteroid and were likely gathering elements to facilitate repairs of the mothership. He supposed those scavengers would be working to restore the most critical areas of the Elder vessel first, such as the nanobot beam. That the Elder ship hadn’t created more scavengers from the asteroid told Jonathan that said beam was still offline for the time being, which was a very good thing.

The mixed human and Raakarr fleet was currently on an intercept course for Vesta. They were a day away.

Connie had assured him that the Cobra modifications to the Avengers fleet-wide would be completed by then, enabling the fighters to engage any super-suits that might participate in the battle. Jonathan wasn’t sure the fighters would be needed, at least in the initial attack run against the scavengers, but it was good to have that as a reserve option if the Elder decided to throw super-suits into the mix.

“We’ll have to lure one of those scavengers from the asteroid.” Jonathan lifted his aReal glasses a moment to scratch an itch on the bridge of his nose. “Then disable it, and cut the weapon free of the hull.”

“We’ll need to make sure we get the loading mechanism, and the bomb inventory,” Robert said. His eyes were defocused, as if examining something on his aReal. “According to the quick blueprint Bridgette has drawn, both should be available in the adjacent compartment. If we want to cut out the whole compartment, including the external hull beside the cannon, we’re talking dimensions of at least ten by ten meters, with a depth of twenty meters—assuming their hull is as thick as ours. Won’t be the easiest extraction in the galaxy.”

“No it won’t,” Jonathan said, examining the blueprint. “We’ll probably need two crews. One working on the outside, and a boarding party to cut away the necessary bulkheads from the inside.”

“MOTHs and combat robots?”

“I’m thinking so,” Jonathan said. “Though maybe only the latter will be necessary on the outside. Maxwell, I want you to work with Miko and the MOTH LC to come up with an appropriate overall strategy. I’ll send you any ideas as they come to me.”

“Affirmative,” the Callaway’s AI replied.

Jonathan’s eyes drifted to Earth on his tactical display. Red dots indicated the scavenger ships were leaving the planet in large groups and heading toward Vesta. The raw materials aboard them had probably been fully restocked, and they were ready to help repair the Elder. Apparently whatever NAVCENT had come up with to deal with the scavengers while they were on the surface hadn’t worked, because their numbers seemed exactly the same as before Jonathan had left the planet: roughly a hundred of them.

The human and Raakarr fleet would reach the Elder ship before those incoming scavengers, but only by a few hours.

That didn’t leave them much of a margin for error.

A flashing indicator on his display indicated a call from Lazur.

Jonathan connected the comm officer. “What is it, lieutenant?”

“Captain, Admiral Zang is tapping in,” Lazur said.

“Put him through,” Jonathan told the comm officer.

The hologram of the admiral appeared in the room. The clean-shaven Zang was standing, as if looking down on the captain. His features were hard, and Jonathan had the impression he was looking at a strict disciplinarian.

Jonathan quickly activated hologram sharing so that Robert could see him, too. As a courtesy, he reversed the share so that Zang was aware of the commander in return.

“If it pleases you, Captain, Commander,” Zang said, nodding slightly to each of them in turn. The translation icon flashed in the lower right of Jonathan’s vision. That meant the AI was translating and replacing the admiral’s words in realtime, using the timbre and pitch of Zang’s own vocal cords so that it appeared he spoke English natively. 

Jonathan noted the phrase “if it pleases you.” Zang had only started using the words after the captain had been placed in charge of the combined fleet. It was apparently a matter of social etiquette, indicating the admiral’s respect for and acceptance of Jonathan’s authority, as apparently all SKs used words to that effect when addressing superiors.

As long as he obeys me, I don’t give a damn how he addresses me.

Jonathan inclined his head. “Good day, Admiral. What can I do for you?”

“If it pleases you, we would like to interview the humanoid prisoner aboard your vessel when you are done with him,” Zang said.

Jonathan muted the connection. “So he already knows we have a humanoid prisoner.” Though he spoke, because of the “mute” setting it would appear that he and the commander were merely sitting there. Zang would know he had been muted by the odd behavior, of course.

Robert shook his head. “The moles run deep in the United Systems. They’re like termites. I’d say it was probably someone embedded in NAVCENT.”

Jonathan sighed. “That, or one of Zang’s ships spotted our Avenger capturing the super-suit. A fine-toothed comb of the battle log would pick it up. Especially with the help of an AI.”

“Do we let him have the captive?” Robert asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said. “The Sino-Koreans aren’t known for their gentle treatment of prisoners of war. The last thing we need now is to further piss off the Elder by mistreating one of their ‘honored’ servants.”

“How do we know the Elder won’t consider Bridgette’s invasive psi procedure mistreatment?” Robert asked.

“We don’t,” Jonathan said. “And you’re right, they probably do. But I don’t want to make matters even worse.” He unmuted the connection and addressed the admiral. “I’m willing to share everything we’ve learned from the captive. That will have to be good enough.”

Zang merely stared at Jonathan, smiling widely. He was obviously having his own conversation with advisers at that very moment.

Finally the admiral spoke once more: “Very well, if it pleases you, transmit the data. We also wish to see any information you’ve gleaned from the super-suit as well.”

“There’s not a whole lot on that front, at the moment,” Jonathan said. “But I’ll send you what we have.”

“Perhaps we might be of assistance in reverse engineering the super-suit,” Zang said.

Jonathan forced a smile. “We have it under control.”

He transmitted the transcription Maxwell had made of Bridgette’s debriefing.

“I will have my best men review this,” Zang said. “In the meantime, if it pleases you, summarize for me: what did we learn?”

Jonathan summarized what Bridgette had told him, and explained the plan to steal a cannon and its complete loading system from a scavenger. 

“A bold plan,” Zang said. “However, I want my men involved in the operation. We will send a platoon to support your boarding party. If it pleases you.” He added that latter phrase seemingly as an afterthought.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Jonathan said. “Our combat specialists like to run self-contained operations, and don’t integrate well with third party units.”

“If the United Systems does not comply with this,” Zang said. “We must part ways. You will deal with the alien threat on your own.”

Jonathan frowned. “The future of humanity is at stake, and you’re threatening to part ways over something so small as having a presence on a combat mission?”

“Not so small,” Zang said. “To us it is a big deal. Decades of mistrust between us cannot be so easily set aside. We must have equal representation in the boarding party. And to clarify: the future of the United Systems is at stake, not the future of humanity. You know that the seat of the Sino-Korean government is not on Earth.”

“You’ll lose billions of Sino-Korean lives on Earth,” Jonathan said. “You’re bluffing. And you know of course that the Elder will probably come after your colony world next, right?”

Zang didn’t say anything, but merely sat there smiling.

Jonathan muted the connection.

“I think we should let him send his little team,” Robert said.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Jonathan told the commander. “I just don’t like his methods to force his will on us. He’s not too happy I’m in command, obviously.”

“The MOTHs won’t be all that thrilled about babysitting a bunch of SKs aboard an alien ship,” Robert said.

Jonathan shrugged. “The SKs will probably be able to take care of themselves. They’ll only send their best, I’m sure. They’ll want to make a good impression on us, after all.”

Jonathan unmuted the connection. “Your team can come, Admiral. But to be clear, my MOTHs will be in command. Your troops are to operate in a support capacity only. Is that understood?”

The admiral’s existing smile deepened slightly, as if he had expected that outcome. “Thank you, Captain.”

Jonathan raised a finger. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you understand that my team will be in charge of the mission?”

The admiral inclined his head. “I do. And I look forward to many fruitful joint operations between us in the future.”

“As do I,” Jonathan said. And he meant it, for the most part.

Assuming of course our species actually survives this.

twenty-eight

Jonathan continued to bring the fleet closer to Vesta, the threat of the incoming hundred scavengers behind them weighing heavily on his mind.

We mess this up, we die.

He had Miko plot a course around the rock, giving a wide berth to the Elder ship and the five scavengers there. The individual ships in the fleet made micro corrections to avoid the few asteroids that came close to their paths, but otherwise the journey proceeded without incident: for the moment, the Elder paid the allied fleet little heed.

Let sleeping giants lie.

Only once so far had the five scavengers shuttled from the asteroid back to the Elder vessel, ostensibly to transfer whatever raw minerals they had gathered to the mothership before returning to the surface of the rock.

The fleet had assumed a triple-decker half-crescent formation. The Sino-Koreans formed the top layer, the Raakarr the bottom, and United Systems the middle. Each layer was separated by three kilometers, and the ships were spaced between one and three kilometers apart along the length of the half-crescent, with the more numerous Sino-Koreans stationed closer together than the less numerous United Systems and Raakarr vessels. The Callaway was positioned in the lower starboard side of the United Systems layer, while the flagships of the Sino-Koreans and Raakarr, the Baxian Shan and Raptor respectively, resided on the opposite corner of their own layers.

“Ops, do we have an update on the Elder repair situation?” Jonathan asked.

Ensign Lewis looked up. “We do. The repairs to the nanobot beam weapon in the forward section seem about eighty percent complete. When I zoom in on the external camera, I can see the surface ebbing and flowing as if it’s alive. The nanobots are working hard to restore that section. Given the rate of repairs we’re seeing, I’d say they’ll have it working in six to ten hours.”

“Six to ten hours,” Jonathan said. That was a little after the hundred pursuing scavengers were scheduled to arrive. “We’re cutting it damn close here.”

Bridgette tapped in a few minutes later. The aReal identified her position as outside cargo bay seven.

“How did it go?” Jonathan asked her. He had sent in Bridgette to interrogate the humanoid again, this time with the goal of extracting information pertaining to any weak spots in the hulls of those scavengers.

“Not good,” she replied. “I couldn’t penetrate Marin’s psi defenses at all. He opened his mind to me that first time, and I guess I surprised him with my psychic strength. I suppose he’s not going to make the same mistake a second time. His mind was completely closed off to me. Maybe I just need more rest to recover from my initial session. I can try again in a few hours if you want.”

“I hate to ask this of you,” Jonathan said. “But please try again when you feel up to it. Anything else we can learn about disabling these scavengers will be of benefit. Captain out.”

The fleet passed Vesta at a distance of one hundred thousand kilometers, then looped inward, coming in from the side opposite the Elder. Jonathan had Miko pick out a scavenger that had landed on a southernmost crater as their target.

At the thirty thousand kilometer mark, Jonathan gave the order for all save nine members of the fleet to decelerate and come to a halt. It took five minutes to fully decelerate, bringing the crescent formation another three thousand kilometers toward the asteroid.

The Salvador, Reign of Terror, and Dagger pulled away from the fleet during that time, along with three Raakarr dart ships and three SK destroyers. Deciding upon the number to send had been tricky. Jonathan needed enough to ensure the success of the mission, but not so many as to overly alarm the targeted scavenger.

Jonathan had shuttled the MOTHs he had chosen for the mission from the Callaway to the Salvador. Chief Galaal and LPO Johnson had more than proven themselves in previous engagements, and Jonathan wasn’t about to stop relying upon them now just because they had unknowingly participated in a clandestine operation against his wishes. Jonathan placed the blame squarely upon the deceased Artificial Vance for that. 

The breakaway fleet continued toward the asteroid. The targeted scavenger hovered a hundred meters above the wide crater in the asteroid’s southern pole, its gravimetric beam sucking up minerals. The remaining scavengers were dispersed far and wide across the surface, with only two others visible on the current hemisphere, which told Jonathan the scavengers were seeking out minerals specific to different parts of Vesta. Earlier he had checked the geological survey results recorded by the mining companies, and saw that the pyroxenes in the sections mined by the scavengers all had varying concentrations of magnesium, iron and calcium, among other minerals. Jonathan guessed that those minerals probably required the least amount of energy for the nanobots to break down and reform.

The target vessel was roughly a hundred kilometers away from the next closest scavenger, and five hundred kilometers from the Elder ship itself, which was still located on the other side.

During the approach, the nine members of the breakaway fleet used a circuitous course meant to confuse the enemy as to which scavenger was their actual target. However, when the allied ships closed to fifty thousand kilometers of the surface, the three scavengers visible on that hemisphere lifted from Vesta and turned around to engage.

At the forty thousand kilometer range, the breakaway fleet split into three equal groups. G1, composed of the Reign of Terror, an SK, and a Raakarr, steered toward an imaginary point off the southernmost pole as if intending to skirt the asteroid—and the scavengers—entirely. Meanwhile, G2—the Dagger, and another SK and Raakarr—changed course to intercept the two northernmost scavengers. G2 fired mortars and nukes at the two, and then pulled away slightly. Their intent was to draw off those two by goading them into pursuit.

As Jonathan watched the computed trajectories update in realtime, he saw that it seemed to be working: the two northern scavengers moved to intercept G2.

The remaining three ships in G3 continued toward the initial scavenger, which had fired fragmentation and disintegration bombs at them.

“The scavenger is starting to eject minerals,” Ensign Lewis said. “And is gathering them in front of its nose to act as a shield.”

Jonathan nodded. His eyes were on the incoming fragmentation and disintegration bombs. “Miko, instruct G3 to begin decelerating. Launch nukes. Eliminate those bombs.”

On the display, Jonathan saw the dots representing G3 slow down. Yellow dots indicating nukes emerged from them.

“The target just fired its gravimetric wave at G1,” Lewis said. “The SK ship in the group is breaking up.”

“Damn it,” Jonathan said.

G1 had continued on its circuitous course around the asteroid, which had brought it into a flanking position of the target.

A moment later Lewis announced: “G1 has a clear shot at the engines and gravimetric weapon.”

“Take it,” Jonathan said. “And have them pull away before they’re in view of the Elder on the other side.”

While Bridgette hadn’t been able to ferret out any further weak spots regarding the vessels from the captured Neanderthal, Miko and Maxwell had identified potential target points on their own: they’d spent hours poring over video and EM recordings captured during the previous engagements, and based on the resulting damage inflicted by striking various portions of the enemy hulls, they had compiled an external blueprint of the weapon mounts and engines. The latter resided inside two distinct protrusions near the craft’s aft section.

G1’s the Reign of Terror fired two separate banks of Vipers, concentrating on each engine; meanwhile G1’s Raakarr ship focused its particle beam into a precision burst targeting the gravimetric beam turret. Both ships then changed course to move away from the asteroid.

“Tell me we got those engines and that beam.”

“It appears so,” Lewis said. “The target is not exhibiting signs of any further motive force, and the beam turret appears to have completely melted away, along with a large portion of the hull in that area.”

“Could the MOTHs use that as an entry point?” Jonathan asked.

“I believe so,” the ensign said.

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display. G2 continued leading the other two scavengers from Vesta. That was good.

He saw a flash on the external camera: several nukes had detonated, taking out the incoming bombs meant for G3. A few of the fragmentation variety had gotten through, but the Raakarr with G3 engaged its particle beam, eliminating them.

Two nukes hadn’t detonated, and continued toward the scavenger as planned.

“Does G3 have a clear shot at the fragmentation cannon?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Lewis said. “The minerals are blocking it.”

“The nukes should take out both cannons,” Miko said.

Jonathan nodded.

The two remaining nukes moved into position, edging past either flank of the mineral shield the scavenger had placed in front of itself. The proximity fuses of the nukes were set to detonate early: the trick was to set off the warheads at just the right distance, causing enough damage to fuse shut the cannons and hence disable the weapons. The Raakarr could repair simple fusing damage to the disintegration cannon, but the hope was that the nukes wouldn’t do so much damage as to render the weapon completely unusable. If that did happen, the removal party would have to allow the enemy nanobots—thought to reside upon the hull—enough time to repair the cannon before cutting away the compartment.

Two more flashes came.

“Well, did we get them?” Jonathan asked.

“I think so,” Lewis said. “They’re not launching any more bombs. Wait... G2 has a line-of-sight view behind the mineral shield. The Dagger confirms that both cannons are fused.”

“Good,” Jonathan said. “Tell the Salvador to assume a tow position, and as soon as the target is grappled, get the Dragonflies out there.”

The members of G3 decelerated rapidly, and soon the Salvador had grappled the scavenger and was towing it back toward the main fleet. The tips of the grappling hooks were equipped with portable charged field devices designed to keep any enemy nanobots from cutting the cord. Meanwhile, three Dragonflies had launched from the destroyer; they were also equipped with the charged field tech. Two of the shuttles mounted shortly to the hull of the scavenger, near the target cannon, while a third fired its own anti-nanobot grappling hooks directly onto the area that was to be removed.

“The Salvador is reporting signs of extremely fast repairs to the scavenger, as expected,” Lewis said. “Apparently, the hull breaches near the engines have sealed up, and the gravimetric beam is half rebuilt.”

“Have G3 utilize the necessary countermeasures,” Jonathan said.

Those countermeasures included repeatedly firing their Vipers at close range, along with the occasional kinetic kill, to keep the enemy vessel stripped of the beam and its engines. The Raakarr ship meanwhile would also fire its particle beam at reduced power levels.

Jonathan glanced at Robert. “The gravimetric beam is half rebuilt. Those damn nanobots work fast.”

“But not so fast as when they first transform a ship,” Robert said.

“True enough,” Jonathan replied. “I wonder how that works...”

“I’m guessing the original nanobots fired by the Elder beam are imparted with a higher amount of energy,” Miko said. “Allowing them to achieve a quicker transformation. But all of that energy is expended by the time the transformation is complete.”

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Makes some partial sense.”

He glanced at the tactical display. By then the pair of farther scavengers had given up their pursuit of G2 and turned back toward the asteroid. Their course lined up with the Salvador.

“Looks like the remaining two intend to intercept the Salvador,” Miko said.

“Tell the MOTHs to hurry up,” Jonathan said. “In the meantime, Miko, send G1 and G2 to intercept those scavengers. Also, dispatch the designated support group from the main fleet. Let’s just hope we don’t attract the attention of their friends on the other side of that asteroid.”

Jonathan thrummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest.

Now it’s up to the MOTHs.

twenty-nine

Rade waited inside the cabin of the Socrates for the hull breaching group to give the all clear.

Two shuttles, the United Systems Socrates and the Sino-Korean Fang, had mounted to the scavenger vessel near a fresh gash a Raakarr dart ship had cut into the hull with its particle beams. The location of the gash was near the target compartment the platoon needed to cut away, and was far from the sites of the enemy engines and gravimetric beam weapon, which were subject to continual bombardment from the escorting starships. The mounted Dragonflies kept their specialized charged fields active at all times to prevent any hull-side nanobots from attacking the shuttles.

Outside the Socrates, three Centurions formed the hull breaching group; they wore jumpsuits equipped with similar charged field emitters, and utilized laser cutters to enlarge the hole the Raakarr had made. The robots had placed portable charged field devices around the damaged area to keep the enemy nanobots from repairing it while they worked.

Another United Systems shuttle, the Aristotle, floated above the landing party—it had applied grappling hooks to the area demarcated for removal. Once again, the tips of those hooks were equipped with portable charged fields.

Rade stared at the down ramp, waiting for the go-ahead from the cutter robots. Outside, flashes in the void above told him that the fleet warfare was ongoing. Though the borders of his helmet physically restricted his vision to a narrow tunnel, his Implant compensated for the obstruction via the external cameras, so that as far as his eyes were concerned he wasn’t wearing a helmet at all.

The tenseness and trepidation he had experienced before the mission were mostly gone. Sure, he still felt a slight tinge of fear, and would continue to do so until actually inside the enemy ship, but the feeling had been far worse aboard the Callaway while he was waiting for the operation to actually begin. The worst of it was over, though. At the moment, mostly he felt reflective.

Will I die on this mission?

In the past, fate and luck had always favored him. But what if his luck had run out?

If I die, what happens to Sil?

He already knew the answer to that. She didn’t need him watching over her. She could take quite good care of herself. She always would.

He was reminded of one particular time—of many—when she had demonstrated her remarkable capacity to handle whatever the universe threw her way. It happened back in his mercenary days, when he had temporarily retired from the navy to run his own security consulting firm. He and his MOTHs had gotten themselves into a bit of a jam, stranded on the surface of a planet in the middle of a regime change situation. Surus and Shaw had been running the show from a secure location on the surface, and were trapped on the planet, too, leaving Sil alone with the robot crew aboard their ship in orbit.

When a group of hostiles surrounded the vessel and began boarding operations, Sil, then a child of only eight years old, rallied the onboard robots and organized an effective defense. She had help from the Praetor unit, of course, but she was the one who had come up with the strategy that saw the hostiles driven from the ship with their tails between their legs.

He smiled widely at the recollection, feeling the tears of pride forming in his eyes. He had known from that moment forward that he wouldn’t ever have to worry about her.

And yet still he had insisted on rejoining the navy so he could “watch over” her. 

Gritting his teeth, he quickly dismissed the memory.

I’m in the middle of a mission. Focus damn it.

Rade really was getting too old for this.

“Entry point is open,” Unit C transmitted from the breach group.

Rade turned toward the remaining robots waiting in the cabin with him. “Go go go! Secure the passageway!”

Four suited Centurions hurried down the ramp. Like the rest of the team, they carried no jetpacks, instead hauling energy sources on their backs to power the portable charged field devices they harbored. But they didn’t need jetpacks: supermagnets embedded in their boots varied in intensity with each step the robots took, holding them to the surface despite the zero-G.

Rade watched on his overhead map as the four made their way inside the rent.

“Secure!” the Centurion on point transmitted.

For now, Rade thought.

“Get the HS4s in there,” Rade said.

Beside him, Helium launched the eight void-capable HS4 scouts. A moment later, Helium said: “We’ve got artificial gravity. One point four Gs.”

“Why would an autonomous ship need gravity?” Rade asked.

“Beats me,” Helium replied.

Rade shook his head. Aliens.

On the map, he watched the helmet-sized drones enter the enemy vessel and fan out into the breached passageway. Two of the HS4s moved eastward into the passageway, while another two maneuvered westward. The passageway terminated in T-shaped intersections on either side, with corridors branching away to the north and south. The HS4s assumed observation positions facing either direction at both intersections. Their purpose was to function as early warning sentries if any anti-boarding units engaged.

The passageway had a recess near the center, where a sealed hatch led to the compartment housing the inner portion of the cannon, its firing mechanism, and bomb inventory. Of the remaining four HS4s, two waited within the recess, the other two just outside it.

“Join the HS4s at those T-intersections,” Rade said. “I want those four approaches covered.”

“Roger that,” one of the Centurions returned.

Rade watched the four robots spread out on his overhead map. Two each moved to the far sides of the passageway, joining the HS4s. They covered the north and south approaches at each intersection.

“Breach group,” Rade said. “How is the rent looking?”

“The portable charged fields are keeping the nanobots at bay,” Unit C answered. “I don’t think any of us are needed to maintain the opening.”

Rade considered that. “I want A and B to remain at the opening anyway, just in case. C, D, move inside and breach the hatch to the target compartment.”

“Affirmative,” Unit C said.

On the map, the dots representing the two robots from the cutter group hurried inside and assumed positions in front of the sealed hatch.

Rade switched to Unit C’s point of view and watched the robots apply their laser cutters to the hatch. No atmosphere of any kind misted out from the perforations.

Tense seconds ticked past.

Finally the hatch broke free and tumbled inside the compartment.

Unit C announced: “We’re through!”

“Get back,” Rade said. “And send in the scouts!”

The robots withdrew from the recess containing the breached hatch, and two of the HS4s flew forward to map the compartment.

Rade switched to one of the drone camera feeds and observed the firing mechanism, the bomb inventory, and the inner portion of the cannon.

“Looks clear in there,” Helium said.

“It does.” Rade dismissed the feed and glanced at the six combat robots crouched in the cabin with him and the LPO. “E, F, G with me. The rest of you, with Helium. Let’s go.” Over the shared comm: “Chief Pung, we’re moving in. I want your team to hold the hull opening behind us.”

“Affirmative,” the man in charge of the SKs replied.

Rade double-checked that his own charged field was active, then he stamped down the ramp. The supermagnets in his boots worked to keep him secured to the surface, though they made it feel like he was trudging through a quagmire.

Helium and three combat robots assumed a defensive position at the bottom of the ramp, and waited for Rade and the other three to cross to the opening. The LPO scanned the surface of the enemy ship for signs of any incoming enemies.

Rade surveyed the outer landscape, too, as he crossed to the opening. The hull was uneven and dented in several places, he noted, perhaps to increase the surface area exposed to any potential micrometeors, and thus helping to distribute impact damage. Then again, maybe the odd shape was a side effect of having the original hull transformed by nanobots.

He saw the third squad of United Systems Centurions working nearby, affixing M117B-1 bricks to the hull around the area slated for removal. The robots planted portable charged field devices beside the explosives. Several more of the anti-nanobot devices had been placed around the fused cannon itself, to prevent it from reforming. In the distance, he spotted similar devices situated upon the second fused cannon—the one that fired the fragmentation bombs. Everything was going as planned. So far.

From the nearby Sino-Korean shuttle he spotted the main group of SK troops emerging; they hurried past the defensive perimeter their Centurion equivalents had formed around their shuttle.

Rade took in all of that in a matter of seconds, and then he was entering the rent in the alien hull.

When he stepped into the inner passageway, he found himself under the expected influence of the 1.4 Gs of artificial gravity. He repealed the supermagnets in his boots, dialed up the enhanced strength setting of his jumpsuit, and trudged grimly toward the recess.

The inner passageway was far smoother that the surface hull, and was more akin in that sense to a United Systems craft. There was no lighting at all, however; the only illumination came from the headlamps of their jumpsuits.

He waited at the edge of the recess. Helium joined him a moment later, along with the remaining robots.

Meanwhile, Chief Pung’s platoon of soldiers and robots deployed near the entrance. On Rade’s tactical display, he saw their dots form a wide circle of troops outside the rent, with a smaller half circle of three nested inside. Pung resided at the center.

If he could help it, Rade intended to keep the SKs deployed at the entrance the whole time, and out of the way of his own team.

“Set up,” Rade said. He assumed a guard position just inside the recess, on the righthand portion, while Helium took the opposite side.

Meanwhile four of the remaining six Centurions bolstered the ranks of those guarding the two T-intersections at the ends of the passageway. The final robot pair joined units C and D and began to work: they placed M117B-1 bricks protected by portable charged fields at key points along the bulkhead surrounding the target compartment, while C and D used their laser cutters to carve guidelines in the metal and weaken certain areas for the coming detonation.

“Hull charges are ready,” one of the topside Centurions transmitted.

“Excellent work,” Rade responded. To the local Praetor, he sent: “How long until the inner charges are ready?”

“About sixty seconds, sir,” the Praetor unit in charge of the Centurions replied. “The charges are placed, we’re only waiting on the cutters.”

Rade had gotten used to Praetors calling him “sir.” He didn’t like it, and if he wasn’t in the middle of a mission he would have chewed out the robot. Somehow the sir thing had slipped in during one of the patches sent out to the entire line of active Praetor units. He couldn’t remember the precise time it had started happening, but it was somewhere between two and three years ago, and he wasn’t certain if it was purposeful or accidental. Conspiracy theorists on the InterGalNet military forums came up with elaborate explanations backing both possibilities. 

Either way, Rade made a mental note to send yet another scathing reminder message to the robot manufacturer that the default setting when addressing a chief should be Chief, not sir. And he wasn’t the only one sending messages like that, judging from the past temperament on the forums—it wasn’t for no reason that the most popular insult the instructors hurled at students during MOTH training was to call them sir.

“Incoming...” Unit B announced.

Rade glanced at the overhead map. A red dot had appeared on the north-facing side of the eastern T-intersection. The Centurions there had pulled back; their rifles were likely pointed beyond the edge.

Rade switched to the POV of the scope of one of those rifles; sure enough, it was aimed past the bulkhead, allowing him to spot the incoming tango.

The thing filled up the northern passageway entirely. The best description was of a giant wrecking ball formed of jagged metal.

“Open fire,” Rade sent.

The dented ball rolled forward inexorably, seemingly immune to the incoming laser fire spouted from the puny rifles of the Centurions.

“Get back!” Rade transmitted.

The robots on that side retreated as the threat rolled into the T-intersection and halted in full view of the passageway. A moment later the four Centurions were crowding into the recess beside Rade and Helium.

“Careful that you’re not in the line of fire,” Rade told Helium.

The LPO, on the opposite side of the recess, backed away from the opening a pace.

Rade glanced at his overhead map and saw that the remaining robots lurking near the opposite T-intersection had taken cover in the north and south passages there. Not really what he wanted, but it was too late to change that now.

Rade peered past the recess and into the main passageway, and watched as several small turrets emerged from the surface of the sphere.

“Take out those turrets!” Rade said, ducking back inside the recess.

The two Centurions in the recess that were closest to the corridor directed their rifles past the brink.

In seconds the pair withdrew their rifles and showed them to Rade: the tips had melted.

“Contact!” Unit A announced.

The blue dots representing the Centurions that had taken cover in the north and south passages of the opposite T-intersection vanished, along with the HS4 scouts there. A frozen red dot had appeared in the north passage of the T-intersection.

Damn it.

Rade labeled the closer target One and the frozen target Two.

“Pung!” Rade sent. “We’re pinned. See if you can get a bead on Tango One from the opening in the hull.”

“You got it,” Pung replied.

Rade glanced over his shoulder: “Finish up goddamnit!”

The wrecking ball rolled in front of the recess.

The Centurions immediately leaped to cover Rade and Helium. The robots melted.

Rade opened fire, shooting at the different turrets as fast as he could target them. Each of them melted when struck.

The fused robots fell away, leaving him and Helium completely exposed. The remaining turrets focused on Rade and the LPO...

Something forcibly slammed into the wrecking ball from the side, and it slid out of view. Several fierce-looking robots were shoving it with ballistic shields.

The Sino-Koreans.

“We got a bead,” Pung said.

Rade glanced down the passageway, and saw that more of Pung’s robots had crouched near the opposite T-intersection, and were attempting to fire at the second tango beyond. He looked back toward the closer wrecking ball on the other side, and saw that two of the fierce SK robots were already down: the ball was rolling over them, crunching their metallic corpses. The third one had its left arm melted away, and though it leaned fully against the ball with its shield, it couldn’t halt the rolling motion.

Rade ducked for cover.

“Pung, you’re going to lose all your robots,” Rade said.

“That’s what they’re for,” the SK replied.

“Helium, with me!” Rade retreated past the Centurions that were finalizing the cuts for the blast, and moved deeper into the compartment that held the firing mechanism. He glanced at the map, and saw that the blue dots of the farther SK robots in the passageway were beginning to wink out.

“I’m going to blow the charges,” Rade said over the shared comm that included Pung.

“We’re not done yet!” Unit C said.

“I’m not waiting!” Rade said.

The cutter robots retreated into the inner compartment and shielded Rade and Helium with their bodies.

Rade accessed the remote interface to the M117B-1s and detonated them.

His vision filled with a bright white flash and the deck shook violently. All save one of the Centurions went offline, their bodies riddled with shrapnel. Meanwhile Rade and Helium were unharmed. Rade regretted the sacrifice of the robots—they were fully sentient, and part of the MOTH brotherhood. But he couldn’t mourn them, not now.

He glanced at the damage to the compartment. While he could see large gashes along the join between the deck, bulkheads and overhead, some of them revealing the stars beyond, the compartment hadn’t been completely severed from the main ship. There were still two main deck sections intact.

“Aristotle, can you pull us away?” Rade asked.

The separated portion of the bulkhead lifted as the grappling shuttle applied thrust. The still-connected regions lifted slightly, stretching the components, but the metal didn’t give.

“Negative,” the Aristotle’s AI returned.

“Hold current height, Aristotle,” Rade sent. He glanced at Helium. “We’re going to have to sever the rest manually. Grab a cutter!”

He saw more Sino-Korean combat robots rushing past the far end of the partially severed compartment; they obviously intended to stave off the wrecking ball.

Rade scooped up a laser cutter from one of the fallen Centurions and hurried to the closest remaining connection. He saw that some portions around it were already rejoining, courtesy of the tiny nanobots, since the charged field devices placed there had been blown away when the charges detonated.

“Shit,” Rade said. “Helium, we have to work fast.”

Behind him, Helium had scooped up another cutter and was applying it to the second bulkhead.

Rade cut away half his portion. “Aristotle, punch it!”

The metal stretched, but didn’t come away. Rade continued to cut. From the corner of his eye, he saw the wrecking ball roll into view at the far end of the passage.

“Aristotle, pull damn it!” Rade transmitted.

Miraculously, the wrecking ball once more was shoved from view. Rade saw that Pung himself had smashed into the thing with a ballistic shield, along with his human LPO.

“Pung!” Rade said. “Get in here!”

“We cannot,” Pung replied. “The burden is on you now. Do not let our sacrifice be for nothing!”

Rade felt the deck shake slightly underneath him; the final two SK dots vanished from his display. He guessed Pung and his XO had blown themselves up.

Rade angrily brought the laser cutter down and tore almost entirely through the last remaining connected piece. The deck finally ripped away.

Rade lost his balance and started to fall, but then the zero-G kicked in as the compartment lifted from the main ship. He released his laser cutter and caught Helium, who had started to drift outside. Then Rade grabbed the deck with his free hand and hauled himself deeper inside. He activated his supermagnets to secure himself.

“Helium, your magnets,” Rade said.

“Oh yeah,” Helium returned. He activated his own a moment later.

Via the jagged open space at the far end of the compartment, Rade watched the scavenger drift away.

“Centurions, board Socrates and Fang!” Rade transmitted.

On the overhead map, those few Centurions and HS4s that remained topside entered the Socrates. There were no SKs left to board the Fang, however. The Sino-Korean shuttle was completely empty, its local AI the only survivor.

“Shuttles, away!” Rade sent.

The craft departed the enemy ship, joining the Aristotle.

Rade returned his attention to Helium. “You all right, bro?”

“That was some messed up shit down there,” Helium said. His voice sounded strained.

Rade glanced at Helium’s vitals and realized his friend was injured.

“Helium—” Rade started.

“I know,” Helium said. “Got a piece of shrapnel from the M117B-1s in my chest. I’ll live. Maybe. The shrapnel sealed the suit puncture, at least.”

Helium’s vitals were stable for the time being, so Rade decided he wouldn’t attempt to remove the fragment.

“Hang in there,” Rade said.

He glanced at the lone combat robot that had survived in the severed compartment with them: the Praetor. “Unit, sweep the hull for nanobots. Inside, and outside.”

“Roger that,” the Praetor returned.

It produced an elongated charged field device and began to move along the deck with its supermagnets, sweeping the long device across the different surfaces like a leaf blower—in theory, the fields produced by that particular unit would fling any nanobots off into space, preparing the compartment for eventual docking with the designated Raakarr vessel.

While the robot worked, Rade closed his eyes and took a moment to rest.

He must have fallen asleep, because he was wakened by the Praetor’s voice.

“I have successfully cleared the inside and outside of nanobots, sir,” the Praetor said. “We’re docking in twenty seconds.”

“Good work,” Rade said. “And please, don’t call me sir.”

thirty

Jonathan watched the shuttles move away from the disabled target while the rest of the breakaway fleet took fire. The remaining two scavengers from the far side of the asteroid had joined in the harrying, as had several super-suits from the mothership. Jonathan had dispatched modified Avengers to intercept them.

In the ensuing skirmish, another two allied ships had fallen, along with several Avengers. But with the help of the support craft, the breakaway fleet had managed to destroy another scavenger and many super-suits in the process. The Elder vessel itself had remained conspicuously absent during the fighting—likely their nanobot beam was still offline, as well as that graviton beam they had used to disrupt Earth’s magnetosphere.

Jonathan ordered the Dragonfly tug to carry the excised cannon components directly inside the Raakarr dart ship that was with G3, so that the Raakarr could begin the repair and integration procedures for the weapon immediately. That dart ship just so happened to be the Talon, interestingly enough. Jonathan supposed Valor had arranged things so that the Talon would be the ship fitted with the disintegration bomb, because its Zarafe crew still held the utmost loyalty to him.

Shortly after the Dragonflies docked, the Salvador released the scavenger it towed and G3 launched a final nuke and mortar barrage to destroy the disabled ship; the breakaway fleet then retreated from Vesta.

As the ships moved away, the remaining scavengers and super-suits lost interest in the pursuit; the former returned to the asteroid, the latter the mothership. The triple-decker crescent of allied ships waiting for them likely contributed to their lack of enthusiasm.

Ensign Lewis shared a quick breakdown of the boarding mission with Jonathan. The MOTH platoon had encountered resistance inside the enemy vessel. LPO Helium was injured, and currently undergoing treatment aboard the shuttle Aristotle, but was expected to make a full recovery when he returned to the Callaway. The team had lost most of the combat robots that had accompanied them. And apparently the Sino-Koreans had performed above and beyond the call of duty, sacrificing themselves to a man so the MOTHs could escape.

Upon hearing this news, the captain regarded his Sino-Korean allies in an entirely new light.

Perhaps it was a very good thing Zang insisted on his team accompanying the boarding party. We’ll have to engage in joint operations more often, going forward.

Jonathan ordered the main group away from the asteroid at a quarter speed. When the breakaway units rejoined them, he increased speed and began to steer the fleet around the asteroid. The Elder vessel came into view on the far side of Vesta. Jonathan ordered a halt one hundred thousand kilometers from the vessel.

He had Lazur tap in Wethersfield. “I’d like an ETA on the integration and repairs of the disintegration weapon.”

Wethersfield replied a few moments later. “Valor just finished talking with the Talon’s captain. He tells me the unit should be integrated with their systems, and the cannon fully repaired, hopefully in three hours. At that point we’ll be able to open the Talon’s bay doors and fire at will.”

“Three hours?” Jonathan said. “The hundred scavengers from Earth will be here in two.”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Wethersfield said. “Valor tells me they can’t do it any sooner. They’ve had to look far back into their archives to determine the interface methodology. Apparently they haven’t seen computer programs and circuits like these in thousands of years... definitely ancient. It’s ironic in a way: the weapon itself is ten times more advanced than anything they have, but the interface is obsolete.”

Jonathan sighed. “All right. I get it, integrating the technology of one’s ancestors takes time.”

“Yes,” Wethersfield said. “Also, despite the meticulous jobs performed by the MOTHs and Centurions, apparently not all of the nanobots were evacuated from the compartment, which didn’t help matters. The Talon’s crew had to deal with part of the hangar bay transforming on them. They were able to contain the spread in time, using the charged field devices we loaned them, but the damage set them back a bit.”

“I’ll bet,” Jonathan said. “I’m surprised they were able to recover at all.”

“Yes,” Wethersfield said. “Luckily, the transformation proved far slower than what would have occurred if the ship was struck by the Elder nanobot beam directly.”

“How many disintegration bombs have we recovered, by the way?” Jonathan asked.

“There are eight bombs stocked aboard the unit,” Wethersfield said. “That should be more than enough for our purposes, based on the predicted yield.”

“Did the Zarafe take a look at the psi-stun devices we shuttled over?” Jonathan asked. He was hoping to equip the bombs with the same focused EM-emitter tech that was used to capture the Neanderthal. These latest emitters could track and disable an incoming super-suit from a range of up to one kilometer.

“The Zarafe did look, yes,” Wethersfield replied. “Their scientists told Barrick they should have no problem affixing the devices to the outer surfaces of the bombs. And they believe they’ll be able to use the bombs as a power source for the devices.”

“And they’re certain the stunners won’t destabilize the bombs?”

“If they had any objections, they did not state them,” Wethersfield said.

Jonathan frowned. “All right. Tell them they need to have a way to remove those devices if the first couple of bombs we launch have issues.” 

“I’ll let them know.”

Assuming we have a chance to fire more than one or two of the damn things.

“Thank you,” Jonathan said. “Keep me apprised of the situation, and let me know if the integration estimate changes in any way, for good or for bad. Captain out.” He glanced at Robert and extended his noise canceler around the commander. “Valor says it will take three hours to finish the integration. The trailing scavengers arrive in two.”

“Maybe the newcomers will ignore us,” Robert said. “And head straight for the Elder ship to conclude repairs.”

“I’m not sure which outcome is preferable,” Jonathan said. “If the scavengers proceed directly to the Elder, and repair it enough for the nanobot beam to come online, they’ll be unstoppable. But if they skirt the Elder and attack us directly, they could destroy our fleet before we have the disintegration bomb ready.”

“A no-win scenario,” Robert said.

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.” Jonathan folded his fingers. Then he made up his mind.

He disabled his noise canceler. “Miko, we’re going to divide the fleet and delay the incoming scavengers. Join Robert and me in my office to come up with the necessary fleet deployments. We’ll present it during the meeting of the captains in half an hour. Maxwell, schedule the conference for thirteen hundred hours. Lazur, I’ve prepared an update for NAVCENT. I’m sending it to you now. Please send it to Earth immediately.”

In his office, Jonathan, Miko and Robert came up with a workable plan, and Jonathan presented it during the meeting of the captains shortly after. There were no objections or recommendations—it was fairly straightforward. He allocated the necessary roles to the Raakarr, Sino-Koreans, and United Systems vessels.

“We battle for humanity today,” Jonathan said at the end of the meeting. “Remember that, and fight well.”

He was never all that good at rousing battle speeches. Well, it didn’t matter. He supposed his message was succinct enough that it wouldn’t be lost on any of them.

With the meeting concluded, Jonathan split the fleet into two battle units, B1 and B2. The Callaway and other flagships remained behind with the smaller B2 while B1 proceeded toward the incoming scavengers from Earth. The Talon stayed with B2 as well, of course, ready to fire on the Elder ship when the time came. Thirty Avengers and thirty Raakarr fighters escorted the Talon, while the remaining three-hundred-plus human and alien fighters remained docked aboard B1’s vessels.

B1 advanced fifty thousand kilometers in front of Vesta, placing themselves between the incoming scavengers and the Elder ship, forming a defensive blockade. The vessels formed three vast cylindrical formations laid end to end, each a thousand kilometers in length, parallel to the path of the enemy.

The ships composing the front of each formation were all Raakarr. Their particle beams would eliminate any incoming disintegration or fragmentation bombs that penetrated the planned nuke screen. The human vessels had already launched hundreds of mortars, clustering them at the fore of each formation so the Raakarr had some protection from the gravimetric beams the scavengers would employ.

The Sino-Koreans and United Systems vessels composed the latter portions of each cylinder. The plan was to use nukes and kinetic kills to herd the scavengers down the middle of those cylindrical tunnels, and thus exposing the enemy to a continuous stream of assaults. Mortars and slugs were not to be used for herding, for fear that the scavengers would capture the rocks and use them to create shields as in the first engagement—the enemy couldn’t use nukes and missiles for that purpose, not when those weapons disintegrated upon detonation.

Shortly after the vessels of B1 deployed, the CDC alerted Jonathan that the hundred incoming scavengers had ejected some of the raw materials they had gathered to form a defensive bulwark in front of their ships anyway. Jonathan smiled grimly.

Nicely done, scavengers.

Still, the mineral shields wouldn’t help much when the enemy vessels flew down the middle of the offensive tunnels, exposing their flanks to the ships composing the walls of those formations.

Bridgette was still unable to get past the humanoid’s psi defenses, so they were unsure of any further weak spots other than those Miko and Maxwell had determined from the previous combat footage.

Lieutenant Harv Boroker had made no progress on his investigation of the artifact stolen from the Elder ship. The chief weapons engineer commented that it certainly made a good paper weight, but otherwise he hadn’t found a purpose for the device yet.

“It does look fairly bad-ass though, I have to admit,” the lieutenant said. “What with all those glowing blue lines pulsing up and down the sides. When this is all over, I’d like to make it the centerpiece of my stolen artifact collection, if you wouldn’t mind. I already have a pedestal picked out.”

“I didn’t know you had a stolen artifact collection,” Jonathan said.

“I don’t,” Harv said with a wry smile. “This will be the first entry.”

“I see.” Jonathan returned the smile, though his was forced. “Keep trying.”

An hour and half passed, and the scavengers approached the hundred thousand kilometer mark. Jonathan found himself wishing the fleet hadn’t lost all of the Raakarr laser ships—their long range would have proved useful right about then.

When the scavengers reached the sixty thousand kilometer mark, Jonathan gave the order for B1 to launch its herding ring of kinetic kills and nukes. On the tactical display, he saw several waves of the weapons go out. 

“Miko, instruct B1 to deploy fighters,” Jonathan said.

Raakarr and human fighters joined the cylindrical formations, adding their numbers to the walls, and waiting to tighten the noose when the enemy arrived.

The ring of nukes and kinetic kills served its purpose: so far, the incoming enemy were on course to pass directly down the middle of the cylinder made by B1. They would do so in groups of fours, it seemed: the hundred ships formed a long, strung out line.

“Miko, have B1 deploy defensive nukes,” Jonathan said.

The human-manned ships of B1 fired another round of nukes, these ones assuming positions at the front of each cylindrical formation. They would act as smart mines.

Hundreds of fresh red dots appeared on the tactical display.

“The enemy ships are launching their fragmentation and disintegration bombs,” Lewis said.

Jonathan nodded slowly. He tapped in Wethersfield. “Tell me we’re going to have the disintegration cannon ready soon.”

“Valor says it’s coming,” the Artificial replied. “A few more minutes.”

Jonathan watched as the nukes that acted as mines at the front of the first formation began to detonate, eliminating half of the incoming bombs. The Raakarr fired their particle beams at those that got through. 

The lead scavengers utilized their gravimetric beams in turn, and Raakarr ships in the front ranks began to disintegrate.

Some of the enemy bombs penetrated into the cylindrical formation, both fragmentation and disintegration types, and more ships were lost, United Systems, Sino-Korean, and Raakarr alike.

“Order the members of B1 to fire at will when each of them in turn has a clear shot at the flanks of those scavengers,” Jonathan said. “I want them to use nukes, Vipers, particle beams, kinetic kills. Everything. And instruct the Avengers to close for strafing runs.”

The display filled up with more dots as B1 complied. The cylinder seemed to tighten as the Avengers closed in with the scavengers. The long line of enemy ships continued forward, forcing their way past, firing more bombs, and unleashing their gravimetric beams relentlessly.

The scavenger vessels passed through each of the three cylinders in turn, causing terrible damage. Fighters harried them the whole way. None of the enemy decelerated—it soon became obvious they intended to pass straight through and proceed to the Elder ship.

The surviving scavengers began to emerge from the final cylinder.

“Has the mothership launched any super-suits yet?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Lewis said. “Maybe they’re waiting for the scavengers to arrive?”

Jonathan studied the display for a moment, then made up his mind.

“We’re going to have to intercept them,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want those scavengers contributing to the repairs of the Elder nanobot beam. Or at least, I want to lessen their contribution by as much as possible. Miko, send B2 forward. The flagships and fighters in the unit are to remain behind with the Talon.”

B2 moved forward to intercept the scavengers. On the tactical display, the ships and fighters that remained behind were labelled B3. As the minutes ticked past, seventy scavengers emerged in total from the final cylindrical formation of B1 and continued on toward the Elder ship.

“Ops, how many did we lose in B1?” Jonathan asked.

“Over a hundred fighters,” Lewis said. “And seventy ships. Only a few lifepods were detected.”

Jonathan shook his head. A terrible cost. “Instruct the nearest ships to collect the survivors, and as many as the Avengers as they can. Meanwhile, the remainder of B1 is to rejoin B2.” He tapped in Wethersfield. “Now would be a good time for that cannon...”

“Valor says they’ve almost got it,” the Artificial replied.

“B2 is in weapons range with the incoming scavengers,” Lewis informed the captain a moment later.

“Fire everything,” Jonathan said.

thirty-one

B2 intercepted the incoming enemy and the outcome was similar. Only fifteen more scavengers were destroyed, at a cost of thirty-three ships from B2.

Well, Jonathan thought. At least we lessened their repair contribution to the Elder. Though not by much.

On his tactical display, Jonathan watched the surviving scavengers proceed toward the Elder vessel. None of the vessels decelerated as they neared the mothership. Instead, it looked like they were flying directly into it. Most of them were striking near the location of the damaged nanobot beam weapon.

“The scavengers are crashing into the Elder hull,” Lewis said. “After impact, their constituent molecules are spreading across the surface. This is consistent with my theory that the Elder hull swarms with defensive nanobots of some kind, ready to disperse incoming energy.”

“Those nanobots would have to be fairly high energy themselves to do that,” Miko said.

“Maybe they are,” Lewis replied.

“None of the scavengers are approaching Vesta itself?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Lewis replied. “But the original three scavengers on the asteroid are still mining: two on this hemisphere, one the far side.”

“All right.” Jonathan tapped his lips. “Have B1 and B2 fire nukes anyway. Probably a waste of time, but let’s see if we can disrupt the repair process. Target the nanobot beam area of the Elder ship.”

He watched the nukes release.

“And Miko, have the rest of us move in as well,” Jonathan said. “We’re all going to contribute to this.”

The flagships, fighters, and the Talon proceeded forward, heading toward a rendezvous point with B1 and B2.

“Super-suits are swarming,” Lewis said.

On the display, Jonathan saw the mass of red emerge from the Elder ship.

I was wondering when the enemy would bring them into play.

“Send half our modified fighters in to escort the nukes,” Jonathan said. “Pull them back before impact.”

The minutes ticked past. Soon, he watched the yellow and blue dots representing the nukes and fighters contact the red dots of the super-suits. Several dots winked out on both sides, but many of the nukes got through.

The weapons impacted the mothership a few moments later. “Anything?” Jonathan asked.

“No good,” Lewis said. “The damage has been redirected once again. We’ve caused barely a dent. The remaining super-suits are continuing toward the fleet. Fighters are pursuing.”

“B1 and B2 are in effective Viper range of the mothership,” Miko said.

“Fire a concentrated burst,” Jonathan said. “Target the same spot area on the Elder hull.”

The survivors of B1 and B2 opened fire.

“No good,” Lewis said.

“Can we tell how close they are to repairing that nanobot beam?” Jonathan asked.

The ensign shook her head. “Given the rapid progression of repairs to the regions, the CDC thinks we have only a few minutes. Maybe seconds.”

“Damn it,” Jonathan said.

He sat back helplessly.

This isn’t quite going as planned.

He was about to tap in Wethersfield for another update when Lazur spoke.

“Wethersfield says the disintegration cannon is fully armed and ready to fire,” the comm officer said.

Jonathan sat up straight. “Fire two bombs at the Elder mothership.”

Two new dots appeared on the display, sourced from the Talon and headed directly for the Elder vessel. The tracking of the weapons seemed unaffected by the psi-stun devices attached to them, at least so far. Whether or not the devices affected the payload was another story.

 “The two scavengers on this hemisphere of the asteroid are breaking away to intercept the weapons,” Lewis said. “As are most of the super-suits.”

“Send twenty Avengers and Raakarr fighters to escort the bombs,” Jonathan said.

He watched the swarm of red dots representing the super-suits break away from their current targets and move to intercept the bombs and their fighter escort. As the super-suits closed, many of those red dots winked out. Several passed by, seemingly on erratic courses.

“The psi-stun devices on the bombs are wreaking havoc in the super-suit ranks,” Lewis said. “And the Avengers and Raakarr fighters are picking off the rest.”

Jonathan nodded.

Finally things are going our way.

On the display, the bombs and their escorts continued to close with the Elder ship as more of the red dots gave way. He stiffened as the two scavengers made to intercept the weapons.

“The scavengers are launching their gravimetric beams at the bombs,” Lewis said. “It appears to be having no effect. They’re also firing their own disintegration and fragmentation warheads. So far, our disintegration bombs have outmaneuvered them all. We’re losing several fighters to exploding fragments, however.”

She was right: many of the blue dots representing the escorting Avengers and Raakarr fighters vanished. Those fighters also still had to contend with the super-suits, which continued to come in from all sides.

“It looks like the lead vessel is on a direct collision course with the bombs,” Lewis said.

In moments that vessel touched the pair of dots representing the bombs, but nothing seemed to transpire: all the indicators remained active, simply passing right through one another.

“What happened?” Jonathan said.

“The two bombs swerved around the scavenger at the last moment,” Lewis said.

Jonathan exhaled in relief.

“The second scavenger is approaching... it’s not bothering to fire on the bombs, but instead is concentrating its weaponry on the fighter escort.”

Jonathan watched as several more blue dots vanished.

When the scavenger reached the bombs, the two dots representing the weapons winked out.

“Looks like the scavenger anticipated the directional change this time,” Lewis said. “And dove right into the bombs. We lost both of them. The scavenger ship is disintegrating.”

So the psi-stun devices attached to the hulls of the bombs didn’t affect the payloads after all then. Well that was good to know, at least.

“Meanwhile,” Lewis continued. “The remaining scavenger is decelerating. The super-suits are swarming around it. I think they intend to act as a shield when we attack again.”

“We have to take that scavenger out,” Jonathan said. “Miko, instruct B1 to intercept and destroy it. And have the Talon fire three more bombs at the Elder ship. Target the nanobot beam region. We don’t have time to wait, not when that beam could be repaired at anytime. Get the rest of our fighters to escort the bombs in.”

“The three bombs are away,” Lewis said. “Meanwhile, B1 is closing with the scavenger. They’ve launched nukes.”

On the tactical overlay, yellow dots appeared from the vessels in B1. Fresh red dots emerged from the scavenger at nearly the same time.

“The scavenger just fired disintegration and fragmentation bombs,” Lewis said. “Some of the nukes from B1 are changing course to intercept.”

Jonathan saw two disintegration bombs vanish thanks to the nukes. The Raakarr ships with B1 used their particle beams to sweep away the next two bombs, and some of the fragmentation varieties.

“B1 just fired Vipers at the scavenger,” Lewis said. “It’s launching its gravimetric beam in return.”

There was a flash on the external camera feed Jonathan had piped in to the upper right of his display.

“The nukes struck the scavenger,” Lewis said. “It’s gone. But we lost two ships in B1: the Warthog and the Swordsman. The former fell to the gravimetric beam, the latter to a fragmentation bomb.”

Jonathan nodded absently. He had kept his gaze on the three bombs the whole time, and watched them make their way toward the Elder ship. With B1 occupying the scavenger, the super-suits were left to face the bombs alone. The profusion of psi-stun devices coating the surfaces of those weapons sowed turmoil among the enemy ranks, and the fighters seemed to be having a field day out there, clearing large swathes of the units.

“The bombs are making good progress,” Lewis said. “Super-suits are falling to the stun devices, and both the Raakarr fighters and Avengers are picking them off. We should have impact in ten seconds. Wait... Captain, the Elder ship has started moving away from the asteroid!”

Jonathan watched via an external forward camera as the mothership accelerated across the surface of Vesta. “Will the bombs reach it in time?”

“I’m not sure...” Lewis said. “The bombs are changing course to match the new trajectory and... I think they’re accelerating.”

Jonathan observed the three dots on the tactical overlay swerve toward the Elder ship, close in, and...

“All three bombs scored a direct hit on the beam area,” Lewis said rather breathlessly. “Human and Raakarr fighters are retreating.”

Jonathan enlarged his external feed and watched with a mixture of awe and relief as a large rent slowly formed in the Möbius strip, expanding outward as if the hull were being eaten away. In moments the entire section that once contained the nanobot beam was completely gone, and the mothership had dissolved all the way through so that it looked more like a giant, bent out of shape earring than anything else. 

The corrosive action continued for another forty seconds and then slowed until it ceased outright. Roughly thirty percent of the Elder vessel was gone, by volume.

“Their engines appear to be disabled,” Lewis said. “They’re drifting in place... and the surviving super-suits are returning to the mothership.”

“They’ve realized how ineffective they really are without those scavengers to back them up,” Robert said.

“Their masters are hurt,” Jonathan said. “Could be they’re returning to aid them.”

“You think the Elder recalled them?” Robert asked. “To help with repairs?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “Either way, I’m guessing now they’ll be more amenable to communications. Lazur, tell the Raptor to initiate contact. Have them ask the Elder if they’re ready to discuss the terms of their surrender.”

Jonathan watched the super-suits slowly vanish inside the mothership. Thirty seconds passed. He tapped his foot impatiently.

“Lewis,” Jonathan said. “Have you detected a gamma ray transmission from the Raptor yet?”

“Negative,” Lewis replied.

Jonathan glanced anxiously at Robert. “Valor is sure taking his damn time, isn’t he?”

The last of the super-suits vanished inside the mothership. Jonathan was about to tap in the Raptor when a yellow dot emerged from the Talon.

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t tell me the Talon just launched what I think it did?”

“The Talon fired another disintegration bomb at the Elder vessel,” Lewis said.

Jonathan angrily tapped in Wethersfield. “What the hell is going on? I never authorized that latest strike.”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” the liaison officer returned. “Valor gave the order to fire without consulting you.”

“Tell him to stand down,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want any more bombs out there. I told you, I want the Raptor to request their surrender. And recall that bomb!”

Wethersfield didn’t reply for long moments. “According to Valor, the bomb can’t be deactivated or changed from its course once it has been launched.”

“Helm, bring us closer to that mothership,” Jonathan said. “Miko, prepare to fire a concentrated broadside of Vipers at the approaching bomb on my mark.”

Jonathan watched as the flagship pulled away from the rest of the fleet, and the range ticked down between the Elder vessel and the Callaway. About twelve seconds before the bomb was scheduled to impact, Jonathan said: “Fire Vipers.”

He waited. The bomb didn’t vanish from the tactical display. “What did we do?”

“We bored a hole through it,” Lewis said. “But that didn’t stop the thing.”

“Miko, tell the closest unmanned Avengers to intercept it,” Jonathan said.

“Done,” Miko replied.

“I hate to say it,” Robert told the captain. “But it probably won’t work. Those fighters are too small. It’s too easy for the bombs to swerve around them.”

“I hope you’re wrong.” Jonathan watched three blue dots representing fighters intersect with the yellow dot of the bomb. The dots passed right through each other.

“The bomb swerved around the fighters,” Lewis said.

The captain watched helplessly as the bomb struck the Elder ship a moment later.

Jonathan shook his head as more of the hull was eaten away. By the time the decay stopped, another quarter of the mothership was missing, so that only half of the Elder vessel remained.

“Ops, did you detect any gamma ray communications from the Raptor yet?” Jonathan asked the ensign.

“No,” Lewis replied. “There has been nothing.”

Jonathan tapped in the Raptor. “Wethersfield...”

“Valor refuses to stand down,” Wethersfield said. “He wants to fire the remaining two bombs and destroy the Elder entirely.”

Jonathan clenched his fist. “Tell him if he fires, we will destroy the Raptor.”

“The Talon just fired the last two bombs,” Lewis said.

Jonathan slumped. “The fool.” To Miko: “Instruct the nearest fighters to attempt another intercept.”

“Done,” Miko said. “Should I also give the order to fire upon the Raptor?”

Jonathan shook his head. “If we do that, we’re going to find ourselves embroiled with a fight involving all the Raakarr shortly thereafter. And Valor knows we won’t risk losing our communications link to the rest of the Raakarr, and the Elder ship, by attacking the flagship housing our liaison officer and his translator.”

He glanced at the tactical display. The dots of five fighters closed with those of the bombs, and then passed by, leaving the weapons unharmed.

“The bombs easily steered past the fighters,” Lewis said.

Jonathan came to his decision. The bombs were clustered close together. That meant there was one last chance to stop them.

He gave his final order. His last ever as commander of the fleet. “Helm, place us on an intercept course with those bombs. We’re going to sacrifice our ship. Maxwell, alert the crew to proceed to the lifepods.”

“Affirmative,” Maxwell said. The AI’s voice issued the evacuation order over the main circuit.

“I tried to sacrifice the Callaway in a similar situation once before,” Robert said. “When I was attempting to protect our Builder. But the bomb altered course at the last moment, and flew past the ship.”

“We’ll just have to get Maxwell to compensate the best he can for any predicted last-minute course changes,” Jonathan said. “Just like the scavenger out there did. If it could sacrifice itself, so can we.”

Miko glanced at the captain. “We could always let the bombs hit them. Remove the threat of the Elder completely and forever.”

“No,” Jonathan said. “I’d rather negotiate a peace if we can. We don’t know if this is the last Elder ship in existence. If we destroy this one, we might face a hundred more. Look at it. It’s incredibly damaged. Basically at our mercy. They can’t even move. They’re not a threat. I won’t have us destroying an obviously defeated enemy.”

Jonathan remembered what Chief Galaal had told him during his debriefing, when the MOTH was describing the inside of the Elder ship. He said there were buildings, and inhabited caves, and that he guessed the ship was some kind of movable colony world to them.

Jonathan had brought ruin to enough alien races already; he couldn’t bring himself to completely disintegrate that ship, especially not if it was a colony of some kind. Destroying half of it was more than enough.

He noticed that Stanley was trying to tap in. Jonathan reluctantly accepted.

“What the fucking hell are you doing to my ship, Captain?” the chief engineer asked.

“Sorry Stanley, we’re going down,” Jonathan said. “Make your way to the nearest lifepod if you want to survive.”

He disconnected and blocked Stanley from making further contact requests.

Robert extended his noise canceler about the captain. “You’re willing to sacrifice your entire ship because of your principles? The flagship of the fleet, at that?”

“I am, yes,” Jonathan told the commander. “And they’re not just my principles. They are humanity’s. The Navy’s. These principles make us who we are. Without them, the United Systems would be no better than the Zarafe. We always give a defeated enemy a chance to surrender. We never destroy them outright. Not like the Zarafe made us do with their deception.” He shook his head. “Destroying the Elk homeworld was the most heinous act I have ever witnessed during my time in the navy. We’re going to show the Elder it wasn’t us. We’re going to show them we’re better than that.”

“I’m not saying I disagree,” Robert said. “But surely we can find another ship to sacrifice?”

“We’re the closest,” Jonathan said. “It has to be us. Look at the tactical map, Robert.”

Robert’s eyes defocused as if he were doing that very thing. Then the commander sat back. When he spoke, his voice sounded shocked. Distant. “That’s why you ordered the Callaway closer to the Elder. After the last launch, you decided you would sacrifice the Callaway if the Talon fired again.”

“Very good, Commander,” Jonathan said. “This is something I couldn’t order any other captain to do. The burden had to be mine.”

He repealed the commander’s noise canceler.

“Make your way to the lifepods,” Jonathan instructed his bridge crew. “I’ll stay behind to retrieve Maxwell’s computing core after impact with the bombs.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” Maxwell said. “And I am touched. But I doubt you’ll make it off the ship alive with me.”

“I have to try,” Jonathan said. “Now everyone else, go!”

The bridge crew made for the exit hatch. Robert got up, but paused. He grasped Jonathan in a tight handshake. “We’ll leave you the lifepod closest to the bridge.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said.

“You better make it,” Robert said.

“I’ll make it,” Jonathan insisted.

Robert nodded stiffly, then released him. He hurried off the bridge.

The hatch closed.

Jonathan noticed the MA guarding the inner hatch hadn’t moved.

“Go,” Jonathan told the man. “We’re going to impact in less than fifty seconds.”

The master-at-arms smiled calmly and stepped forward. “Maxwell, proceed with the evacuation of the ship. But cancel the order to intercept the bomb. I repeat, do not intercept that bomb. Lock out the bridge and engineering crew from any further access to the ship. Override code 5452940 tango bravo delta.”

“Override accepted,” Maxwell said. “Bridge crew locked out.”

Jonathan stared at the man, stunned. “Who the hell are you?”

The MA smirked. The armed man slowly slid his laser rifle down from his shoulder.

“I said—”

Before Jonathan could complete the sentence, the bridge vanished.

thirty-two

Jonathan cut himself a portion of chicken pot pie.

“Your chef has outdone himself, as always,” Hartford Knox said. “This is ten times better than the usual fare Charlie makes for me.”

Jonathan glanced at the admiral, who was seated across from him in the captain’s mess. “I actually borrowed the program from Charlie and uploaded it to my chef.”

As he spoke the words, Jonathan had the strangest feeling, like he had forgotten something important. Had he scheduled some important meeting to coincide with the dinner?

He pulled up his calendar on his aReal. The evening was clear. Strange...

“Well, your robot has a more delicate touch than mine, then,” Hartford said. “Charlie always throws far too many spices on everything he makes.”

Jonathan dismissed the calendar and grinned. “I told my chef to copy the program exactly. Portion for portion. Spice for spice.”

Hartford frowned, then chuckled. “Well, chalk it up to my skipping lunch. Hunger: the chef’s best friend.”

“Nothing like a healthy appetite to improve the flavor of a meal,” Bridgette commented.

Jonathan glanced at his wife. “What, are you trying to imply I starve you?”

“Only in the intimacy department, my dear,” she winked.

Hartford erupted in a chortle. “I see you two lovebirds are up to your usual mischief. Neither of you have changed a bit.”

Bridgette wrapped her hands around Jonathan’s upper arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. “And why would we change?”

“For another couple, I would think she was playacting,” Hartford told Jonathan. “But not you two. I know what you have is real.”

Jonathan glanced at Bridgette, feeling like the happiest man in the world. She returned his smile mischievously. There was a hint of hunger in her eyes. Desire.

Jonathan raised his glass. He had broken out the Scotch for his special guest. “To perfect recipes. Perfect wives. And perfect friends.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Hartford said.

Bridgette released him, and all three of them clinked glasses.

“So what’s next for you?” Hartford asked. “Your tour of duty is coming to a close. I have a place for you on Etalon Station, if you’re interested in a shore billet.”

“I’m fairly happy where I am,” Jonathan said.

“You can’t stay aboard a ship forever,” the admiral said. “Sure, you might have another ten years ship-side after you get promoted to admiral, but after that, the personnel department is going to replace you with newer blood. Happens to us all. Wouldn’t you rather be in control of your destiny, and decide where you want to be now? Request a transfer to wherever you want. I’ll see to it that it goes through.”

“Honestly, I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be than aboard the Callaway,” Jonathan said. “She’s my ship. My life. If I lose her, I’ll be set adrift.”

Bridgette wore a surly expression. “I must be the only wife who has to compete against a ship for the attentions of her husband. Sometimes I wonder who he loves more.”

Jonathan glanced at her, unable to hold back a wide grin. “I do love the way the deck vibrates when we’re passing through the upper atmosphere of a gas giant, I have to admit.”

“Asshole.” Bridgette shoved him playfully.

“I’m having a party next week at the station,” Hartford said. “I want you to come along, Jonathan. Think of it as a networking opportunity. There will be many admirals present, and—”

Jonathan found his mind drifting off. There was that feeling again.

I could swear I should be doing something else right now. But what?

He sensed Bridgette looking at him.

He met her eyes. Except it wasn’t Bridgette anymore.

Famina sat in her place. Porcelain white skin. Haunting blue eyes.

“It’s not real, Jonathan,” Famina said.

What are you talking about? Of course it’s real. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. My friend, alive. The woman I love, my wife.

He glanced at Hartford, but the admiral continued blabbering on about the party as if she hadn’t spoken.

“It’s not real,” the woman repeated. “You have made different choices than this. Harder choices. Your path did not lead here. It couldn’t.”

Jonathan stood up.

Hartford glanced up at him, seeming confused. “What is it, Jonathan?”

“I have to use the head.” Jonathan hurried to the exit hatch. When he opened it, he found himself standing on a windy mountaintop. He glanced over his shoulder but the captain’s mess was gone.

The cold whipped into his exposed flesh, and Jonathan hugged himself for warmth. He could barely see through the heavy swirling snow of the blizzard, but it was enough to discern the vast gulf that awaited before him: he stood on the edge of a cliff. Instinctively he tried to access the mapping feature of his aReal to see where he was, but the overlay didn’t activate. He touched his brow: he was no longer wearing his aReal glasses.

The wind seemed to abate somewhat, enough for him to hear a voice with perfect clarity:

“Top of the morning to you, Captain Dallas. You caught me off guard. I didn’t think you’d be powerful enough to disbelieve that. It won’t happen again.”

The master-at-arms from the bridge stood beside him. The man was nondescript, and very ordinary-looking. Though the MAs features were different, Jonathan was oddly reminded of SCS operative Vance, in that this man, like Vance, wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. In fact, Jonathan couldn’t recall ever seeing the MA before.

He suddenly understood why he had been having recurring nightmares of late.

“You’re a telepath,” Jonathan said.

“You could say that,” the MA replied, flashing a cocky grin.

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the MA said. “I want to trap you in this mind world. Meanwhile, in the real world, I take control of your ship and allow the Raakarr to destroy the Twisted Ones.”

The Twisted Ones? Jonathan realized he must mean the Elder.

“Why?” Jonathan said.

The MA inhaled deeply, then gazed out into the storm. “My name is Zhidao. I have lived among you for almost a century. When my species invaded seventy years ago, I was a forerunner, sent to gauge your people, and I determined that you were easily conquerable.”

“You’re a Phant,” Jonathan said.

“Very good,” Zhidao said. “When the Green Phants destroyed the Slipstream leading to this portion of space, my mission never ended. I’m still preparing the way for the arrival of my species. Without the Slipstream, it would take over six hundred years for my race to arrive. But with the help of the Twisted Ones, I have found a way to accelerate their arrival.”

Jonathan considered the MAs words for a moment. Then he understood. “The artifact we took from their ship...”

“You really are good at putting two and two together,” Zhidao said. “That pyramid is actually a backup copy of a database containing all the knowledge of the Twisted Ones. The data is stored in the upper dimensions, of course—beyond the capabilities of your simple technology. But I have the means to access it, and I will extract the knowledge necessary to create Slipstreams, among other things. With the ability to create our own wormholes, my race will travel the galaxy at will, conquering everything. We start, of course, with humanity.

“More of the Twisted Ones will arrive once I allow that ship to be destroyed. They will erase your world, so that when my race arrives shortly thereafter, we need simply feed upon the lingering energy residues left behind by the slain lifeforms. Then when we are glutted, we will proceed to the former Elk homeworld and do the same.”

“How did you obtain the security clearance to override my commands with Maxwell?”

“I’ve had over seventy years to infiltrate the upper levels of human government,” the MA said. “This includes the hierarchy of the intelligence services. Power is relative easy to come by with your species. Amazing, the leverage that a small amount of money provides. That, and certain well-placed threats to family members. I arranged privileges with key individuals in the human hierarchical system, privileges that allowed me to pass unnoticed among the crews of your fleet, the AIs complicit in my actions. I was a ghost. A spider weaving its web in the darkness. And now I am ready to reel in my newly acquired meal.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me, back in the real world?” Jonathan said. “Why bother with all of this?” He gestured at the mind landscape with one hand.

Zhidao smiled, then sighed. “If only it were so simple. You see, I might have need of you yet, Jonathan Dallas.”

With that the MA vanished.

“Wait!” Jonathan said. “Wait!”

He spun around but Zhidao was gone.

Now that the MA had vanished, the wind picked up once again, and its frigid fingers scraped across Jonathan’s exposed flesh. He couldn’t hear a thing above the loud gusting.

Jonathan struggled for a while, attempting to make his way down the mountain, but his energy quickly sapped. He couldn’t get enough air, and was literally gasping for breath. He sat down in the snow to rest for a moment, promising himself he would get up again in a few seconds.

But he didn’t get up.

Instead he sat there, panting. His extremities felt so numb. He had stopped shivering some time ago. His body simply didn’t have the energy.

He began to doubt that Zhidao had actually appeared. And he doubted everything else, too.

I hallucinated this whole thing. I’m still on the mountain with Famina. I never left it.

He closed his eyes. That wasn’t true and he knew it. He started to pull himself to his feet, but then collapsed once more.

I just want to lie down for a second.

He started to do that very thing, but then stopped himself. He remembered the cardinal rule of mountain climbing.

Go to sleep when you’re hypothermic and exposed to the elements, you die.

He had to dig himself a bivouac of some sort in the snow. But he felt so weak.

Wait a second. None of this is real.

There had to be a simpler way out.

He thought of the psi defense training he had practiced from time to time, and tried to imagine the red pyramid, blue sphere, and green box floating in the air in front of him. He concentrated on those shapes in his mind’s eye, until he no longer felt the frigid fingers of the wind tearing into his flesh, and the sound of his gasping breath receded.

He closed his eyes and imagined a bulwark around him, protecting him from the wind and snow. He placed soldiers and combat robots on the upper walkways of that bulwark, alongside pulse cannon emplacements. He kept building and adding to that wall until it towered into the sky. Satisfied, he opened his eyes.

The dreary white landscape remained. The wind and cold bit into his face with renewed vigor.

He closed his eyes and tried again, several times. Each time he opened his eyes to the same scene. By the seventh attempt he was growing desperate.

I should have taken my psi defense training more seriously.

And then the gusting wind receded slightly.

Famina sat beside him.

“Reach out,” she said. “Link with the boy.”

“What boy?”

But she was gone.

Then Jonathan remembered Bridgette’s words.

It wasn’t me alone who resisted Barrick. I linked with Eugene.

Jonathan had never covered linking in his training, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

He closed his eyes, visualized the child’s face as he had seen it in the dream environment, and tried to reach out with his mind. He sensed the psychic mass that was Zhidao, overpowering everything else. He tried to distance himself from that mass, but couldn’t. Resigned to its weight, he began casting about with his psi energy, searching for signs of anyone else out there.

But there was no one. And even if there was, he’d never be able to find them, not with the overwhelming presence of Zhidao so close to him.

He realized it wouldn’t work anyway: he’d never find Eugene while the child was inside the psi-shielded tent in Robert’s quarters.

But that might not be true anymore. Jonathan had ordered an evacuation of the ship, after all.

An evacuation.

His shoulders slumped with the realization that the boy had probably already left the ship.

Then he held his chin up against the biting wind. I have to try, no matter what.

Jonathan reached out with his psi energy one more time.

Eugene. I need you.

EUGENE HAD HIS arms wrapped around mommy. His face was wet with tears. Something really bad was happening.

Mommy was carrying him through a crowd. Grown-ups were shoving each other, shouting. Some were crying, like him.

A strange siren kept repeating in the background. Rrrrrrrreeeeeeee. Rrrrrrrreeeeeeee. Rrrrrrrreeeeeeee. It scared him.

The grown-ups around him Glowed sickly sweet, a feeling he felt deep inside himself that made him want to throw up. Mommy had the same Glow, which only added to his own fright.

Why are they so scared?

He couldn’t make sense of all the frantic thoughts that Beamed into his head from the grown-ups around him. It was all he could do to keep them out.

He just wanted to close his eyes and make all of this go away. But he remembered mommy’s words.

“I’m going to need you to promise me something,” she had said. “We can’t go into the Safe Place. We have to stay here, in the Real World.”

He sucked his thumb. Mommy had told him repeatedly he was too old to be doing that. But he didn’t care.

I want to go to the Safe Place.

He could go so easily. And bring all of these people with him. He could make them Glow bright.

But mommy told him if he did that, they would all die. Including him.

Die. Eugene was afraid of that word. He didn’t really know what it meant, but he knew it was bad, because those who died could never Glow again.

As mommy took her place at the end of a line of grown-ups, he thought he sensed something, but then it was gone. Had he imagined it? Then it came again. A weak Glow that cut through the scary scene around him. Though it was blurry, there was something familiar about it. He thought it was the grown-up who had come to visit him in the Safe Place. Mommy’s friend.

The grown-up was in his own Safe Place, and was reaching out to him.

Eugene. I need you.

The grown-up was in trouble.

Closing his eyes, being very careful not to go into the Safe Place himself, Eugene Glowed, giving a part of himself to mommy’s friend.

thirty-three

Jonathan forced himself to try again, but Zhidao’s psychic mass was too powerful and blocked all his attempts to reach Eugene. He was about to give up when, just like that, Jonathan felt a new presence out there. A glow in the darkness that outshone even Zhidao.

Jonathan reached for it, and it flowed around and inside Jonathan’s psychic energy, imbuing him with strength, adding its brightness to his own. 

It was Eugene, he knew. He sensed fear from the child, mixed with hope. He detected Bridgette’s faint presence as well, but he couldn’t reach her.

The link was weak at first. Insubstantial. But as more and more of the psychic energy flowed into him, he felt the connection solidify.

Jonathan opened his eyes. He was still seated in the snow upon the mountaintop, but he knew that he was the one in control now.

He stood. He physically reached out with his hand and grasped at the empty air. At the same time his mind roved the nearby area. There: a pulsing psychic mass.

The Phant.

Jonathan wrapped psi tendrils around that mass and squeezed his fist. He pulled.

Zhidao emerged from the empty air, ripped back into the mind world the Phant had created.

“What—?” Zhidao said.

Jonathan curled his bicep and then flung his arm outward, hurling Zhidao backward. A tree of ice thrust from the mountain behind the man, and Zhidao slammed against it. Shackles of ice formed around the man’s arms and legs, pinning him to the tree.

“You wanted to trap me in this mind world?” Jonathan cocked his head. “It is you who is going to be trapped here, I’m afraid.”

He felt Zhidao’s essence shoving against the energy Jonathan had folded around the psychic mass. For a moment he thought Zhidao was going to break free, but more energy pulsed into Jonathan from Eugene, and his grip held.

He visualized the bulwark once more. It was different, this time. Thicker, more substantial. Covered in sharp spikes. The bulwark expanded and contracted as if breathing, like a living entity. It grew into the sky, and reached farther, thrusting into space. It cut out the cold and wind completely.

Jonathan contracted its dimensions, shrinking the ceiling and walls until he and Zhidao were in the equivalent of a dungeon cell. Jonathan created a torch in a bracket on one wall. The flames didn’t touch the icy tree to which Zhidao was bound.

Jonathan gazed at Zhidao disdainfully for a moment, meeting that angry glower.

“You should have shot me when you had the chance,” Jonathan said.

He willed himself to leave.

He stood on the bridge once more. He realized his link with Eugene was quickly fading, and he wasn’t sure if Zhidao would remain in the mind world or not.

He hurried to the unconscious MA and wrenched the laser rifle from his grip, then he fired point blank at the man’s head. No, not a man. The brain case melted away, revealing the circuits of an Artificial. Purple liquid began to drip from the neck. The Phant’s physical representation in this universe?

Jonathan tried firing at the liquid itself, but the invisible laser seemed to have no effect. Worried about potential ricochets that he wasn’t seeing, he only made that one attempt.

The link with Eugene had faded completely by then. That he didn’t return to the mind world told him that the Phant was either incapable of a direct psi attack, or it was too stunned to do so. Probably a combination of both. Jonathan suspected the Phant had installed some sort of extensions into the Artificial to enable it to interact psychically with human beings.

He glanced at the clock in the lower right of his vision: only a few seconds had passed since he had first entered the mind world. He had read about this: the psi time compression effect.

That meant there was still a chance for the Callaway to intercept those bombs.

“Maxwell, restore bridge access and resume all of my previous orders,” Jonathan said. “Authorization code captain delta five niner twenty-two.”

Jonathan held his breath, hoping the authorization would go through.

“Authorization code accepted,” Maxwell said. “Resuming all previous orders. It’s good to have you back, Captain.”

Jonathan exhaled in relief. “How long until we intercept the disintegration bombs?”

“Roughly thirty seconds,” the Callaway’s AI replied.

“You need to account for the fact that both bombs are going to swerve at the last moment,” Jonathan said. “You have to be prepared to dive or ascend to compensate.”

“I have included several last-minute course vector changes in my impact calculations,” Maxwell said. “I will be ready. I have even accounted for scenarios involving the bombs taking two divergent paths when they reach the Callaway, though admittedly there is only a seventy percent likelihood I will be able to reach both bombs in such a scenario.”

“Good job,” Jonathan said. “You’re the best toaster I’ve ever had, Maxwell. And probably the last.”

“I’m surprised you’re not angry with me for disobeying you earlier,” Maxwell said.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan said. “The Phant and I had a little discussion while I was out. He explained a few things. Now please, begin ejecting your core from the shielded area. Don’t complete the process until we impact those bombs.”

Keeping the rifle pointed at the Phant, which was still oozing slowly from the lifeless Artificial but otherwise had made no move against the captain so far, Jonathan retreated across the bridge to the far bulkhead.

The panel that led to the AI core opened as he approached, and the cylindrical tube containing the AI’s computational essence emerged. It was roughly the size and length of an adult human arm.

“You really shouldn’t risk your life in some vainglorious attempt to save me,” Maxwell said. “You don’t owe me anything. We AIs are used to sacrificing ourselves for humans. We do it all the time. It’s part of the job description.”

“Can’t let you do it,” Jonathan said. “You go, I go.”

“I suppose some thanks are in order, then,” Maxwell said. “We’ll make a captain out of you yet.”

“Ha. Now just don’t miss those goddamn bombs.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Maxwell said.

Jonathan stared at the cylindrical device that contained the sentient AI that was Maxwell, and watched a series of blue lights revolve around the upper rim. It was almost hard to believe a cylinder of that size contained a computer that could run a starship. He reminded himself that other AIs were just as miniature, some of them even more-so, for example those embedded in Centurions and Artificials.

He couldn’t remove the core until Maxwell shut down. And the AI wouldn’t do that until it had completed its task.

Jonathan watched the seconds tick down toward the time of impact.

“Are all the crew off the ship yet?” Jonathan asked at the eight second mark.

“You are currently the only crew member aboard. Discounting the Phant.”

He exhaled in relief. At least he wouldn’t have more deaths on his conscience. He already had enough for a lifetime.

“I think I might retire from the Navy after this,” Jonathan said.

“Probably a good idea,” Maxwell replied. “If you still need a toaster, I’m available.”

Jonathan laughed softly. His chin quivered slightly, and his eyes felt suddenly moist.

Can’t believe I’m choking up over an AI at a time like this.

Jonathan straightened, hardening himself for what was to come.

“We’ve been struck,” the AI reported. “Hull integrity is severely compromised. Decks one through seventy are breached.”

In the first few moments, those bombs were equivalent to kinetic kills, in that the impacts alone would rip deep into the Callaway, causing horrific damage. Jonathan was lucky none of the breaches penetrated to the bridge or its immediate passageway.

“Did we get both bombs?” Jonathan asked.

“Unknown,” Maxwell replied. “But disintegration is proceeding rapidly. I estimate you have approximately fifteen seconds to evacuate. I’m shutting down. Good luck, Captain. And thank you once again. I’m literally in your hands now.”

The rotating blue lights around the cylinder deactivated.

Nearly instantaneously all the overhead lights turned off. Emergency HLEDs turned on in the ceiling instead.

Jonathan grabbed the core and twisted it, lifting it from the panel. The cylinder felt surprisingly heavy. With both arms he hefted it over one shoulder and hurried to the exit.

Maxwell had had the presence of mind to open the bridge hatch before shutting down. That was a relief, because it would have taken Jonathan a good minute to open the door manually.

Before he left the bridge, he glanced back one last time to regard the Phant. It remained underneath the ruined Artificial, where it formed a small purple pool.

Jonathan raced into the passageway outside, which was completely empty. By then even the robot MAs would have spaced themselves. The emergency lights gave the corridor an eerie subterranean feel.

He reached the nearest evac station. Seven of the eight lifepods were gone, but as promised, Robert and the others had left him the unit closest to the bridge.

The door to the lifepod was already wide open.

Thank you, Maxwell.

Jonathan flung himself inside the cramped pod. He took the only seat, which faced the entrance, and strapped himself in as the door sealed behind him. He secured Maxwell’s core inside the storage bin beside him.

Through the portal in the door, he watched as loose items were sucked past: he had only just made it inside before his deck lost integrity and explosively decompressed.

He leaned forward slightly and gazed through the portal in the direction the debris flowed. He caught sight of the far end of the passageway: it was fast disintegrating.

Jonathan slammed his hand on the lifepod release.

The Callaway hurtled from view as the escape craft flung from the ship. He felt the Gs as the weak inertial compensators struggled to kick in—they were far less powerful than those aboard the ship, but just strong enough to prevent the forces from ripping apart his body.

There was no longer any artificial gravity either, and his stomach began to revolt. Jonathan swallowed several times, trying to keep his lunch down.

It didn’t work.

He hadn’t had time to suit up, so when he vomited, a blob of noxious green liquid floated into the air in front of him. The sight and smell made him vomit again.

He closed his eyes and took a few moments to catch his breath.

When he opened his eyes once more, the vomit had drifted to the far side of the lifepod, where it rolled along the bulkhead in globules. He quickly looked away, not wanting to throw up again.

He gazed out the portal in front of him in time to catch the last remnant of the Callaway as it dissolved.

She was quite the ship.

Good bye, my old friend.

thirty-four

Via his aReal, Jonathan accessed the adhoc mesh network formed by the Implants and aReals of the Callaway’s crew out there, a network whose range was boosted slightly by the tiny comm nodes provided by the lifepods. He pulled up the list of evacuees and, after confirming that all the bridge crew and department heads had escaped, as well as Bridgette and her son, he dismissed the text messages inquiring after his safety and responded with a broadcast text: I made it. Have Maxwell.

Jonathan tapped in the Salvador as he awaited pick-up.

“Captain Dallas,” Rail answered. Her voice distorted slightly, due to the poor quality of the comm node connection between Jonathan and her ship.

“Rail,” Jonathan said. “Is the Elder ship safe?”

“It is,” Rail replied. “The Callaway plowed into the last two bombs, destroying them completely. I hope you made the right choice in sparing the Elder.”

“I hope so, too, believe me,” Jonathan said. “What’s the status on the final scavenger out there?”

“The final scavenger has emerged from the far side of Vesta,” Rail said. “It has assumed an escort position beside the Elder ship, and so far hasn’t made any aggressive maneuvers.”

“Standing guard in case we launch something else their way...” Jonathan said. “Is there any indication that the Elder ship is engaged in repairs?” The enemy vessel was basically a wreckage by that point, what with half of it destroyed.

“We’ve had our cameras zoom in on the damaged regions,” Rail said. “The nanobots are definitely working to seal the breaches. Whether or not they’ll be able to restore their lost sections, however, is anyone’s guess.”

“I’m sure, given enough time and resources, they will,” Jonathan said. “Can you tap me in to Wethersfield?”

“I can.”

As he waited for the liaison officer to connect, he thought of the strange sensation he had felt when linked with Eugene. When their minds had joined, he had the oddest feeling that the child was related to him somehow. Perhaps even was his own.

On several occasions he had donated sperm to Blackford Fertility Inc, largest purveyor of fertility treatments in the galaxy. It was possible Bridgette had contracted them for her pregnancy and obtained his spermatozoa. Though all donors were anonymous, they were classified by job titles and specific genetic traits. There weren’t too many starship captains of his nationality who were six foot five with dark eyes, hair, and a naturally athletic physique. It wouldn’t have been too difficult for Bridgette to request his sperm in an indirect fashion, by checking off his job title and the desired traits she wanted for the father during her application.

Then again he was probably imagining it. When you linked with another mind, you were bound to develop a strong affinity for it, a sense of connection that evoked feelings of relation by blood. It wasn’t surprising he experienced fatherly emotions toward Eugene.

And the boy was a telepath, after all: with his psi abilities, he might have planted the idea within Jonathan himself. Eugene had linked with Jonathan during a time of extreme danger, when his real father wasn’t present, and it was possible the boy had attempted to convert Jonathan to that role as part of some unconscious safety mechanism.

Yes, Jonathan was not the father. Besides, Robert and Bridgette had conceived naturally.

Hadn’t they?

Whatever the case, he decided he would never ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. In the meantime he would remain blissfully ignorant, just as he was unaware of all the other biological children he might have had, thanks to the clinic.

“Captain,” Barrick’s voice came on the line.

“Barrick,” Jonathan said. He had asked for Wethersfield, but the telepath served just as well. “Valor has some explaining to do.”

“Valor is no longer in command,” Barrick replied. “He has been relieved by his second, Otter.”

Jonathan considered the revelation for a moment. “They want to appease us, do they? So that we don’t destroy them for their treachery? Disobeying a direct order is a cause for court-martial. Tell Otter he is to hold Valor in the brig, where he will await charges for sedition.”

“They have arrested him,” Barrick said. “And plan to try him in their own court. Otter assures me that justice will be swift.”

Jonathan frowned. He stared at the entry hatch to the cramped lifepod, and wondered if the “arrest” was just another deception by Valor. Even Barrick had no idea who Valor was among the aliens: they all looked alike. Valor could have ordered the arrest of some random alien officer from the Raptor’s bridge, and neither Barrick nor Wethersfield would have known the difference.

But Jonathan wasn’t about to cause a diplomatic incident over it. Not when he still very badly needed the Raakarr.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll forgive the Zarafe for the time being, and won’t hold them accountable for the actions of one rogue captain. But tell Otter he must tread very carefully in the coming days.”

“I’ll let him know,” Barrick said.

“In the meantime, I want the Raptor to continually attempt communications with the Elder,” Jonathan said. “It’s possible the Elder comm systems are down, and potentially under repair. So keep trying. And let me know the moment you receive a response.”

“Affirmative,” Barrick said.

Jonathan disconnected and sat in silence for several moments.

Numerous notifications in the lower right of his display told him that members of the crew had been attempting to call him: mostly bridge officers and department heads. None of the calls were marked as urgent, as far as he could tell. He would speak with them in due time. Meanwhile, he was still trying to comprehend the loss of the Callaway.

He stared into the empty space in front of the portal.

I can’t believe she’s really gone.

Jonathan thought of something that had completely slipped his mind during the evacuation.

Via his aReal, he pulled up the crew list, focused on the entry for Lieutenant Connie Myers, and called her.

“Jonathan,” she said.

“Glad to see you escaped safely,” Jonathan said. “But I don’t suppose you managed to bring our patient along?”

“The humanoid survived,” Connie said. “When the call to abandon ship came, I instructed one of the robots to stuff him into a psi-shielded spacesuit. Unfortunately, the humanoid escaped before the robot could finish.”

“Escaped?” Jonathan said in disbelief. “I hope no one was hurt in the process?”

“No one at all,” Connie said. “He wasn’t free for long: the Centurion security detail waiting outside captured him and finished suiting him up. Then they bound the humanoid, carried him to a lifepod and saw him off. I’m tracking his pod as we speak.”

“All right, good,” Jonathan said.

That was one more Elder-related life saved. Then again, after all the damage the fleet had caused the Elder vessel, it was likely many more Neanderthals had died aboard, not to mention members of the Elder themselves. They probably weren’t going to care overmuch that the humans had spared one of their servants. But it was a nice gesture.

“Also, I ejected his super-suit into space with a tracking device,” Connie said.

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said. “You’re worth your weight in gold.”

He tried Harv next.

“Captain,” the chief weapons officer said. “Well that was fun.”

“Indeed,” Jonathan transmitted. “The destruction of a ship is not something I ever want to go through again.”

“Don’t blame you,” Harv said. “It’s going to take a long time to get over this. A long time to recover.”

“It is,” Jonathan agreed.

“So to what do I owe this cordial call?” Harv said. “Unless you merely wanted to commiserate over our shared misfortune?”

“Were you able to save the Elder artifact?” Jonathan asked.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t in the lab at the time,” Harv said. “I contacted my engineers after we had all safely evacuated, and learned that no one had thought to recover it. I’m sorry, but we were all too busy saving our own skins, Captain.”

Jonathan sighed softly. “It’s probably for the best.”

A FEW HOURS later Jonathan found himself aboard the Salvador, which he had made the flagship. He left Captain Rail in charge of the ship itself, but continued in his role of flag officer. He felt more like an admiral or vice admiral now, given that he was no longer in direct command of any one ship but still had an entire fleet under him. Rail had graciously given up her personal office abutting the bridge to serve as his flag office, which was where he was now.

The latest report from the Elder ship was that all breaches had currently been sealed, and a new turret was taking shape near the far side of the craft as the nanobots reformed the hull there. It seemed that recreating their nanobot beam weapon had taken a priority. Hopefully, communications would also be given precedence. Because if that beam came online and the Elder began converting the members of the fleet into scavengers once more, Jonathan wouldn’t be very happy.

He had already hatched a plan to capture the remaining scavenger and the disintegration bombs it contained.

We may have to destroy them yet.

Jonathan was discussing the current state of affairs with Robert, whom he had brought aboard to act as his adviser, when he received a call from Rail.

“We’re detecting gamma rays from the wreckage of the Elder ship,” Rail said. “Directed toward the Raptor.”

Jonathan stood. “I’ll be right there.” He disconnected and glanced at Robert. “With me, Commander.”

The two of them joined Rail on the bridge and took the seats set aside for them at the Round Table. That he was surrounded by mostly unfamiliar faces served only as a reminder that Jonathan had lost his own ship.

“Comm, get me Wethersfield,” Jonathan instructed the comm officer.

Once more Barrick was the one who tapped in. “Good day, Captain.”

Jonathan frowned. “I asked for Wethersfield. Never mind. Have the Raakarr translated the message yet?” He looped in Robert and Rail so that they could hear the answer as well.

“They’re working on it,” Barrick replied. “As usual, it’s difficult, owing to the strange mental symbology involved. If only languages never changed as the years passed, and families never fragmented into subfamilies. Even better, I wish everyone spoke the same universal language, alien and human alike.”

“It never hurts to dream,” Jonathan said.

“The gamma ray transmissions from the Elder vessel just ceased,” the ops officer announced. “Whatever they had to say, they’ve said it.”

Jonathan waited a few more moments. “Well Barrick?” he said. “Do we have their surrender?”

“Actually, no,” Barrick replied. “According to Otter, the Elder are asking for our surrender.”

“Our surrender...” Jonathan said. “Do they truly believe we’re the ones operating from a position of submission?”

“Apparently so,” Barrick said.

Jonathan glanced at Robert.

“It could be merely a test,” the commander said.

“To see if we’ll swallow our pride?” Jonathan asked.

“Exactly so.”

“Barrick, tell them we will agree to surrender if they will agree to leave our galaxy and never return,” Jonathan said.

“I like how you twisted it around to make it seem like they’re the ones surrendering after all,” Rail commented.

“Thank you,” Jonathan told her.

Several minutes later Barrick tapped in.

“I have a response,” the telepath said.

“Well?” Jonathan said impatiently.

“The Elder have agreed,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan exhaled, feeling the tension of the last few weeks ebb from him. He glanced at Robert, who was shaking his head, clearly just as relieved.

“But be warned,” Barrick continued. “The Elder will require a full month to repair their ship, at least once they finish building their new nanobot beam.”

“They intend to create more scavengers from Vesta?” Jonathan asked.

“That would be my guess,” Barrick replied. “To aid with the repairs.”

“Then tell them we’ll have to leave an extensive security team to watch over them,” Jonathan said. “In fact, scratch that. Tell him our whole fleet is going to wait here until they’re gone.”

“I will,” Barrick said.

“We’ll have to assume a strategic formation,” Rail said from beside him.

Jonathan nodded absently. To Barrick he transmitted: “What about the scavengers that yet remain in the adjacent systems?”

“The Elder are recalling them,” Barrick said. “So that the Elder will have no presence in our galaxy whatsoever when they depart.”

“Good,” Jonathan said.

“And there’s more,” Barrick continued. “Otter has translated the rest of what the Elder sent earlier. Apparently, after learning our fleet had acquired the disintegration bombs, the Elder decided to test us.”

“Test us?”

“Yes,” Barrick said. “To see if we would destroy them entirely, just like we did with the Elk homeworld. Basically, it was their way of determining whether we truly intended to eliminate the Elk or not. It sounds like they’ve figured out it was their descendants, the Zarafe, who tricked us into doing the deed. I’m not sure what punishment they have in store for the Zarafe because of that. But now you can understand why Valor was so eager to destroy them.”

“I suppose so,” Jonathan said.

“It isn’t entirely clear if all of this was a test from the start,” Barrick continued. “Ever since the fleet destroyed the Elk homeworld. I actually believe that it was, given how they herded us all the way to Earth and drew out the destruction of our magnetosphere to coincide with our arrival. But anyway, apparently if you hadn’t sacrificed the Callaway, and had instead allowed the final two weapons to impact, then humanity would have been doomed. More Elder vessels would have come. A hundred more. But this mercy on our part, in addition to what Bridgette shared in her subsequent sessions with the captured humanoid, have convinced the Elder to leave us in peace.”

Bridgette? He made a mental note to ask her at some point precisely what she had shared with the humanoid, Marin.

He had to wonder, though, how Marin had communicated with the Elder in the first place, considering he was shielded the whole time he was aboard. Then Jonathan remembered what Connie had told him about the humanoid attempting to escape: while he was free, Marin must have linked with his super-suit to amplify his psi connection somehow, enabling him to send a quick message to the Elder. Even though they had cut the humanoid out of the suit and damaged the outfit in the process, obviously enough of the internal electronics remained intact to initiate contact.

That was Jonathan’s best guess, at least.

“Barrick, this doom we have avoided,” Jonathan said. “Is this the same doom you had predicted so long ago?”

“It is,” Barrick replied. “And the Phant almost saw to it that our doom came to pass. But you prevailed. I commend you, Captain.”

Jonathan pursed his lips. He hadn’t yet told Barrick that Zhidao had interfered. He supposed he didn’t have to.

“All right, thank you Barrick,” Jonathan said. “Captain out.” He stood. Glancing at Robert, he said: “I’ll be in my office.”

When the hatch closed behind him he sat in his chair and pondered everything that had transpired.

That simple act of mercy had ensured the Elder would forever leave humanity in peace. He had passed their “test,” though it had involved traveling to the very brink of doom to do so, on both sides.

The Elder are a mighty strange alien race.

Jonathan called Bridgette, who had also been collected by the Salvador so that she could quarter with her husband. “How is Eugene holding up?”

“He’s well,” Bridgette said. “He managed to avoid any incidents during the whole re-boarding process. I’ve got him in a psi-shielded tent right now, but he’s getting so much better at controlling his abilities that I can foresee a time very soon when he won’t need to stay in a tent at all.”

“That’s very good news,” Jonathan said. “Tell me something. Barrick claims you spoke to the humanoid, and shared vignettes with him regarding humanity? I thought you weren’t able to get through the mind defenses?”

“Oh you’re absolutely right,” Bridgette said. “I wasn’t able to get through Marin’s psi defenses after that first time. But I still talked to him, even if he couldn’t answer me. I tried to convince him we were ordinarily a peaceful species. A worthy species, and that he should help save us. But I already told you all of this during my debriefings.”

Jonathan paused. “You know, now that I think about it, you’re right. You did tell me. I had forgotten, what with everything going on. I guess it didn’t seem very important at the time. I was looking for a way to destroy the Elder, and telling stories to one of their servants didn’t seem like a good way to do that. But your stories may have helped convince the Elder to spare us. You did a very great thing, Bridgette. I thank you.”

“I only did what any of us would do in such a situation,” Bridgette said. “There’s an old quote from Hegastus that applies, I think.”

“Let’s hear it,” Jonathan told her.

“When diplomacy fails, guilt-trip your enemy.”

thirty-five

The Elder finished the repairs to their nanobot beam and created more scavengers by firing upon Vesta. Those scavengers mined the asteroid and contributed the necessary raw materials for the rebuilding of the mothership. Other scavengers arrived from adjacent systems, adding to their ranks.

A month passed, and by then the Elder had fully restored their ship, reabsorbing all of the scavengers into the hull in the process. It was with much trepidation that the fleet watched the Elder ship depart from the asteroid, and they all heaved a collective sigh of relief when it did so without attacking any of them.

The humanoid Marin was returned to the Elder, along with his super-suit. Then the great Möbius strip that was the Elder ship proceeded to the closest Slipstream, ostensibly altered the endpoint, and unceremoniously departed the galaxy. Presumably, they changed the endpoint back once emerging on the other side. The Builder that had already started reconstruction of Sol Gate 1 confirmed that the destination was Sirius some time later.

The fleet plotted a course for Earth. There would be much rebuilding in the months ahead, not just in Sol System, but throughout the colonies. The Sino-Koreans and Franco-Italians pledged financial aid. The Zarafe offered to lend a helping hand as well.

Speaking of the Zarafe, Barrick yet remained aboard the Raptor.

“I can probably arrange some sort of pardon for you,” Jonathan told him during one of their last remote conversations.

“No,” Barrick said. “I’ll never really be welcomed by human society. Because of how powerful I’ve become, I’ll always be an outcast. Shunned by normal people, feared by those in power, and studied by scientists.”

Hearing those words made Jonathan fear for Eugene’s fate. The child would have to hide his abilities, probably for the rest of his life.

“I leave you in good hands with Wethersfield,” Barrick continued. “The Artificial is nearly done detailing the Zarafe family of the Raakarr language, and is on track to having the final translation solution ready in three months time. I plan to join a Zarafe diplomatic party shortly thereafter.”

“A diplomatic party?” Jonathan asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Barrick replied. “Destined for an Elk colony. My new mission in life is to document the Raakarr. Specifically, the Elk. Their language, their culture. Mostly, I want to make amends for the part I had to play in the destruction of their homeworld.”

“We’ve all felt the need to make amends of some sort, I suppose,” Jonathan said. “In our own way. All right, well, good luck.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Barrick said. “You know, for the first time I’m living a future I have not lived before. All the key waypoints I once spoke of have come and gone. The road forward is open and undetermined. Humanity might still destroy itself, but that is out of my hands now.”

A week after the departure of the Elder vessel, Jonathan held a formal dinner in the captain’s mess aboard the Salvador. Rail had graciously allowed him access to the compartment. He was a VIP, after all, as CO of the flagship.

All his bridge crew and department heads were present around the wide table, as were some enlisted men. Stanley, Harv, Robert and his wife, Miko, Lewis, Lazur, McNamara, Albright. Wolf and Akido. Galaal and Johnson.

The captain eyed his former crew. “I want to thank you all for your many years of service aboard the Callaway. Without you, I would never have been able to crest the rocky waves that the galaxy threw my way.” He pressed his lips together. “So it is with heavy heart that I hold this final farewell dinner with you all. From this point forward, we must all go our separate ways.

“Some of you will go on to captain your own ships. Some of you will merely be reassigned, though you will receive your due promotions. Whatever the case, it is highly unlikely any of us will ever serve aboard the same ship together. But our paths will cross again, I assure you. It’s a big navy, and yet it’s also a small one.”

Jonathan stood by the door when the meal had ended, and he shook the hand of every officer and enlisted man that passed his way. There were many tears, but Jonathan somehow managed to hold back his own.

When Robert and Bridgette stood before him, Jonathan told his former commander: “Eugene is the future. Raise him well.”

He searched Bridgette’s eyes for some sign that would betray who the real father was, but she gave him none.

He shook the hands of the remaining members of the dinner party and then returned to his stateroom. He opened the closet where he had stowed Maxwell’s AI core and delicately retrieved the cylinder.

“I suppose there is someone who I will be serving with again after all,” Jonathan said. “Huh, Maxwell?”

The deactivated core could not answer, of course. Jonathan gingerly set the cylinder aside.

It felt bittersweet. He had saved Earth and yet lost his ship. But at least all of his crew had survived. If only the same could be said for all the other brave men and women who had gone down with the lost warships under his command. Though he grieved for them, he knew their sacrifice was not for nothing.

It was a small consolation, at least, that NAVCENT would eventually give him a new ship. Or at least, he hoped so.

However even if he did get a new vessel, like he had told his former crew, in all likelihood he would never serve together with any of them again. But they were used to that. Navy ships were ever-changing entities. Officers transferred in and out with each duty tour. Captains were reassigned, or promoted.

He thought of Bridgette. It was going to be hard, not seeing her ever again. But maybe that was for the best.

I could have selected a different path. Bridgette could be my wife...

No. This is the course I have chosen for myself.

My ship is my wife.

The Navy, my life.

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postscript

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about the author

USA Today bestselling author Isaac Hooke holds a degree in engineering physics, though his more unusual inventions remain fictive at this time. He is an avid hiker, cyclist, and photographer who sometimes resides in Edmonton, Alberta.

acknowledgments

THANK YOU to my knowledgeable beta readers and advanced reviewers who helped smooth out the rough edges of the prerelease manuscript: Nicole P., Sandy G., Amy B., Lance W., Myles C., Lisa A. G., Gregg C., Jeff K., Mark C., Jeremy G., Doug B., Jenny O., Bryan O., Lezza M., Gene A., Larry J., Allen M., Gary F., Norman H., Eric, Robine, Noel, Anton, Spencer, Trudi, Corey, Erol, David, Charles, Walter, Lisa, Ramon, Chris, Scott, Michael, Chris, Bob, Jim, Maureen, Zane, Chuck, Shayne, Anna, Dave, Roger, Nick, Gerry, Charles, Annie, Patrick, Mike, Jeff, Lisa, Jason, Bryant, Janna, Tom, Jerry, Chris, Jim, Brandon, Kathy, Norm, Jonathan, Derek, Shawn, Judi, Eric, Rick, Bryan, Barry, Sherman, Jim, Bob, Ralph, Darren, Michael, Chris, Michael, Julie, Glenn, Rickie, Rhonda, Neil, Claude, Ski, Joe, Paul, Larry, John, Norma, Jeff, David, Brennan, Phyllis, Robert, Darren, Daniel, Montzalee, Robert, Dave, Diane, Peter, Skip, Louise, Dave, Brent, Erin, Paul, Jeremy, Dan, Garland, Sharon, Dave, Pat, Nathan, Max, Martin, Greg, David, Nancy, Ed, David, Karen, Becky, Jacob, Ben, Don, Carl, Gene, Bob, Luke, Teri, Gerald, Lee, Rich, Ken, Daniel, Chris, Al, Andy, Tim, Robert, Fred, David, Mitch, Don, Tony, Dian, Tony, John, James, David, Pat, Jean, Bryan, William, Roy, Dave, Vincent, Tim, Richard, Kevin, George, Andrew, John, Richard, Robin, Sue, Mark, Jerry, Rodger, Rob, Byron, Ty, Mike, Gerry, Steve, Benjamin, Anna, Keith, Jeff, Josh, Herb, Bev, Simon, John, David, Greg, Larry, Timothy, Tony, Ian, Niraj, Maureen, Jim, Len, Bryan, Todd, Maria, Angela, Gerhard, Renee, Pete, Hemantkumar, Tim, Joseph, Will, David, Suzanne, Steve, Derek, Valerie, Laurence, James, Andy, Mark, Tarzy, Christina, Rick, Mike, Paula, Tim, Jim, Gal, Anthony, Ron, Dietrich, Mindy, Ben, Steve, Paddy & Penny, Troy, Marti, Herb, Jim, David, Alan, Leslie, Chuck, Dan, Perry, Chris, Rich, Rod, Trevor, Rick, Michael, Tim, Mark, Alex, John, William, Doug, Tony, David, Sam, Derek, John, Jay, Tom, Bryant, Larry, Anjanette, Gary, Travis, Jennifer, Henry, Drew, Michelle, Bob, Gregg, Billy, Jack, Sandra, Libby, Jonathan, Karl, Bruce, Clay, Gary, Sarge, Andrew, Deborah, Steve, and Curtis.

Without you all, this novel would have typos, continuity errors, and excessive lapses in realism. Thank you for helping me make Worlds at War the best military science fiction novel it could possibly be, and thank you for leaving the early reviews that help new readers find my books.

And of course I’d be remiss if I didn't thank my mother, father, and brothers, whose untiring wisdom and thought-provoking insights have always guided me through the untamed warrens of life.

— Isaac Hooke

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