Battlespace (The Stars Aflame Book 1) Page 7

  “Sensors,” Scott said to Sullivan, “I’ll want a full scan of the entire system, right away. Full active. We’re not going to be able to surprise anyone when we leave otherspace, so we might as well get all the information we can at the first opportunity. Make sure everything is sent to tactical. I want a full assessment of the situation as rapidly as possible.” The doors behind him opened, Bouchard walking onto the bridge, and he turned to the communications station, adding, “Lieutenant, I want a channel with Fleet Headquarters opened as fast as you can. They need to know everything we do.”

  “Yes, sir. That’ll be a bit of a power drain, but…”

  “We can always cut it if it appears enemy action is imminent. The last ship to go this way disappeared almost without trace. We’re not going to follow in their footsteps.” Glancing at Bouchard, he added, “If we get a chance, we’ll attempt to talk to the alien ship. Get the First Contact package loaded in, though I’m sure Vanguard transmitted the same message when they arrived.”

  “If they had time,” Wilson replied. “They must have been destroyed pretty quickly, sir.”

  “Let’s just hope we don’t share the same fate,” Scott said. “How are we doing, Clyde?”

  “Just waiting…that’s it. Auxiliary Control just reported in. All decks are now at Condition One, and we are cleared for action.”

  “All weapons charged, ready to fire at your command,” Garcia added. “Should I take any targets I see? We might be able to take them by surprise.”

  “If we are fired upon, then you may fire at will, Commander. Other than that, wait for the command.”

  “Sir, you don’t really think…”

  “I’m not that desperate to fight a battle today, Val. If there’s another way, a way of getting through this without bloodshed, you can be damned sure that I’m going to take it.” He turned to Bouchard, and said, “Though having said that…”

  “I’m just here to help if needed, Captain,” the ambassador replied. “My mandate is to observe. Nothing more than that. Holler if you want anything.”

  “Damn it all, why aren’t all the bureaucrats back home like you,” he said, shaking his head.

  “One minute to emergence, sir,” Chen replied, his hands dancing over the helm. “All systems are ready for transit.”

  “You have the call, Ensign,” Scott said, trying to relax in his chair, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Now more than ever, his crew needed to know that he was in command of the situation, no matter what the reality was. He looked at Chen and Sullivan, trying not to show his concern. They were so damned young, so inexperienced. Flying a starship was a young man’s game, but back in the old days, they’d have had at least three years of experience before going into action. The cutbacks had eliminated that possibility, forced them to take critical stations far sooner than they should.

  Both of them were good officers. His head accepted that, even if his heart had trouble with it, but it just seemed so unfair that they were riding a ship that could lead them to their doom. It was different for him, for Rochford, the other veterans. They’d known exactly what they were getting into, and they had the experience to know what they truly meant. With the cadets, it was a different story. Chen had flown his shuttle for less than three months, under safe, controlled conditions. Sullivan hadn’t even had that.

  He paused, looking up at the countdown clock again, the final seconds ticking away. He was nervous. Terrified. And he was in danger of transferring that fear away, instead of harnessing it where it could do the most good. It had been five years since he’d last sat on the bridge of a ship, flown in deep space, and longer than that since his brief experience of battle. Perhaps he was more concerned about his own performance than that of Sullivan and Chen.

  “Emergence, sir,” Chen said, hands smoothly working the controls as the stars returned to the screen. At the heart of the display was the same nightmare he’d been shown by Admiral Singh, the dead world Boreas, rent with recently-formed volcanic rifts. The once-pristine surface was now shrouded by heavy clouds, toxic chemicals filling the air, completing the work that the alien ship had begun.

  “Initiating full scan, sir,” Sullivan said.

  “Implementing evasive course,” Chen added.

  “Very good,” Scott replied. “Anything, Clyde?”

  “Nothing yet,” his old friend said, peering over the monitors. “Lots of debris, though. The asteroids are going to make this tougher. Lots of places to hide. Though that could end up working in our benefit, later on.” He paused, then said, “Got it.”

  “Throw it on the screen,” Scott said. “Let’s take a look at the face of the enemy.”

  Rochford tapped a button, and the image of the planet flickered out, replaced by a huge object, a strange, roughly spherical structure but with dozens of tendrils reaching forth, slowly waving back and forth, each tipped with a glowing light. The surface of the ship was festooned with equipment, breaking the smooth lines of the hull, none of it easily comprehensible. It was alien, truly strange, but obviously menacing. And according to the sensor plot, it was heading their way.

  “Time to target?” Scott asked.

  “Firing range in three minutes, thirty seconds, sir,” Garcia replied.

  “I can plot a course to get us away, Captain, at least for a while,” Chen added.

  Shaking his head, Scott said, “I’m sure you could, Ensign, but that’s not why we’re here. Sullivan, what are you getting?”

  “The largest reactor I’ve ever seen, sir. Larger than anything even conceived. The ship is networked with dozens of vast power conduits, each big enough to supply a not-so-small city. The estimated yield of those tendrils, assuming they’re laser cannons, could be into the high gigawatts. More than enough to disable this ship with a single shot.”

  “Ensign Chen, please make sure that none of those shots touches us.”

  “I’ll certainly do my best to assure that, sir,” the helmsman replied. “Should I attempt an intercept course? We might be able to reduce the range more quickly, spend less time in the firing line?”

  Taking a deep breath, Scott said, “Not yet. Lieutenant Wilson, please send the First Contact package, on all frequencies.”

  “Aye, sir. Message dispatched.”

  Scott paused, then tapped a control, adding his own contribution. “This is Captain Michael Scott, of the Commonwealth Starship Leonidas. We come in peace, but are prepared to…”

  “Signal, sir!” Wilson yelled. “We’re getting a response, on all channels at once! A message packet.”

  “Careful how you open it, Jimmy,” Rochford warned.

  “I’ve isolated it in a secure database, sir. It can’t affect the rest of the ship.”

  “Then feel free to satisfy our curiosity, Lieutenant,” Scott replied.

  Wilson worked the controls, then said, “A voice file. Short, just a few words.” He tapped a control, and a roar of static filled the overhead speakers, before a soft, sibilant voice pierced the distortion.

  “The infestation shall be purged.”

  “Christ,” Garcia said. “Did I hear that right?”

  “Infestation?” Chen asked. “Is that us?”

  Nodding with resignation, Bouchard replied, “I think we’d better work on that assumption, Ensign, much as I hate to admit it.” Looking at the alien ship, she said, “Kill that bastard, Captain. Kill it before it can kill anyone else.”

  “Very diplomatic. I approve.” Sitting back in his chair, Scott said, “You heard the lady, Val. Fire at will. Fire at will. Chen, intercept course, but maintain evasive flight path. The only way we’re going to avoid being wiped out of space is to stay out of the way of those beams. Clyde, see if you can find us a weak spot. Any ship that powerful must have a weakness.”

  “Working, skipper, but I probably need more than a minute to find it.”

  “Sullivan, keep all sensors focused during our pass. The more data we’ve got, the better.”

  “Aye, si
r. I’m throwing everything we’ve got at the alien ship. One minute to target.”

  Scott nodded, watching as the enemy vessel grew larger on the screen, scanning its lines as though his eyes might spot something the sensors had missed, some hidden weakness to exploit. That vessel had destroyed at least one planet, possibly two, and taken out one of the most advanced starships in the Commonwealth Navy in a matter of seconds. Captain Wallace had been far from the best, but nobody incompetent ever rose to starship command. He might have made a mistake, moved too slowly, but Scott couldn’t count on it.

  Leonidas darted from side to side, nimbly dancing through the stars under the careful direction of Chen, working to avoid any potential impacts long before they could occur. Red lines ran through the tendrils, power building up, ready to open fire, carelessly demonstrating the overwhelming power at the disposal of the aliens.

  The infestation shall be purged. What did that even mean? All intelligent life, all sentient beings, or just humanity? Or all life, perhaps. They weren’t going to get a better answer, but that was more than enough to tell him everything he had to know. They had to fight, and they had to win, or all humanity would pay the price of their failure.

  “Try for the tendrils, Val,” Rochford said. “A little back from the tip. That’s the best I can do.” Shaking his head, he added, “That’s the most complicated internal system I’ve ever seen. I could easily spend weeks trying to work it out and get nowhere.”

  “Ten seconds to firing range,” Garcia replied. “I have a firing solution, sir.”

  “Hang on, everyone,” Scott said, gripping the armrests of his chair. “Good luck.”

  Leonidas got the first shot, the mighty maser cannons pounding into the enemy, focused balls of light hurtling into the tendrils, ripping into the fabric of the enemy ship. For a brief instant, for a heartbeat, Scott thought that they had scored a critical hit as the power levels of the alien fluctuated, wildly racing up the scale, but they settled down all too quickly, and a dozen beams of crimson light raced through the sky, narrowly missing Leonidas, only the nimble fingers of Chen saving them from total destruction.

  “No damage, sir,” Garcia reported. “Firing again.”

  Once more, the two ships danced. Garcia’s aim was perfect, her maser bolts landing just where she wanted them, precisely aimed to burn through the tendrils, but it was to no avail. No known material should have been able to stand up to the pounding they were throwing at the enemy ship, but the aliens had evidently found something new, something tougher. In response, another series of beams lanced through space, one of them running parallel to Leonidas, only a few meters from the deck, a last-second thruster pulse from Chen saving all of their lives.

  “Let’s not ride our luck any further,” Scott said. “Evasive course, Chen. Take us into the asteroids, best possible speed. Garcia, fire distraction shots. If we can’t do any damage, at least we might be able to confuse them a little.”

  “Coming around, sir,” Chen replied, throwing the controls full open, the low rumble of the engines echoing throughout the ship. Scott watched the tactical display as the trajectory plot curved around, slowly opening the range to send them hurtling away, clear of the alien vessel. The helmsmen sent the ship swinging from side to side, firing the thrusters for all they were worth, but the tendrils continued to unleash their attacks, beams of light cutting through the sky, trying to block their escape.

  Then Garcia fired again, from the rear cannons this time, three more quick pulses of energy designed to confuse the enemy gunner, hitting random sections of the ship. For a brief second, there was hesitation, but Chen shook his head, the alien matching him move for move, easily keeping pace with Leonidas’ acceleration.

  Reaching for a control, Scott said, “Gabi, I’m going to need more power to the engines. Red-line the systems if you have to. We’ve got to get more acceleration.”

  “Working on it,” the engineer said. “Cutting communications power, cutting weapons power.”

  “That’s doing it!” Chen added, the final surge of thrust at last sending them clear of the enemy ship. “They’re turning away, moving off.” Taking a deep breath, he turned to Scott, and asked, “Orders, sir?”

  “Where are they going?” Scott asked.

  “Far side of the planet, Captain,” Sullivan replied, her fear only showing from her whitening knuckles, hands gripping her controls too tightly. “Maybe they’re heading for a sensor dead spot.”

  “Why would they do that?” Bouchard asked. “If they wanted us dead, we would be. They don’t have to hide their strength.”

  Scott looked at Bouchard, nodded, then said, “Helm, can we get there first?”

  “If we hold the engines at their current power level, sir, but that’s going to risk an overload of the power distribution network. We’re running way over the red-line right now.”

  “Best guess, Ensign. Can this ship do it?”

  Turning back to the controls, the young helmsman replied, “We can get there two minutes before the enemy ship, sir. We’ve got a slight advantage in velocity, but we’ll be moving at one hell of a relative speed when we do. Just enough for one fast pass.”

  “We won’t be able to resume our data dump to Fleet Headquarters at this power level, sir,” Wilson warned.

  “Admiral Singh will just have to make do with what she’s got,” Scott said. “Execute course change, helm. I don’t know what the enemy ship is looking for, but I’m pretty damned sure that whatever it is, we want it.”

  “Our best shot didn’t even scratch the surface,” Ivanov said.

  “Then I guess we’ll just have to find a way to make a better one, Lieutenant. Or die trying.”

  Chapter 8

  “Amazing,” Belinsky said, shaking his head as he ran his sensor over the latest panel, periodically glancing down at his datapad, the information streaming in. “There’s even more to this than I thought. Even with the information I’ve got, it’s obvious that we’re looking at a numeric code. Each of these plates contains a series of numbers. I think it’s a Godel code.” Glancing at Novak, he added, “That means an immense quantity of information could be stored in each one. We’ve got the omnilingual to translate the resultant text, but it’s going to need some serious processing power to crunch the numbers.”

  “How many more panels, Professor?” she asked, glancing nervously up the shaft.

  “Five to go. I can’t rush this.”

  She nodded, her own scanner waving through the air, gathering additional information about the room, a backup that could be used in the event Belinsky’s detailed scans failed. She glanced at her watch, then reached for her communicator, aiming the output towards the surface, grimacing as she saw the signal strength fluctuate as the device attempted to lock onto the shuttle.

  “Novak to Patel. Novak to Patel. Come in.”

  “Thank God, Lieutenant, I’ve been trying to contact you. Looks like our friend’s on the move, and he’s heading our way.”

  “Christ,” Belinsky said. “I guess…”

  “We’ve also got one of our ships in-system, Lieutenant. I think it’s an old Hercules-Class. Fleet Command must have got one of the old battlewagons out of mothballs. They’re on an intercept course as well, and they ought to get here around the same time as the alien ship. We’ve got somewhere to go.”

  Nodding, she replied, “Then what are you waiting for, Chief? I thought my orders were clear.” She paused, then added, “Stand by for a data dump, though. I want to send you everything we’ve found up till now, just in case…”

  “They’re moving faster than we are, Lieutenant. I’ve got everything ready here, and Ensign Cunningham is sitting in the cockpit right now, running pre-flight. Our estimated takeoff time is eighteen minutes from now. That means we’re in the sky for the minimum possible time, and gives you a chance to get back here. If you hustle, you might just make it.”

  “Professor,” she said, turning back to Belinsky, “We’re leaving.”
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  “No, not yet,” he replied, still focused on his work. “I haven’t finished.”

  “This asteroid will be destroyed in twenty-one minutes, Professor, and if we’re still here, so will we. You can’t do any good if you’re dead, and you’ll lose everything you’ve already gathered.”

  “Five minutes,” he protested. “Five minutes. We can make it.”

  She looked at her watch, and said, “Not one second more, Professor.”

  He nodded, sweeping his sensor across the panel with greater speed. Novak discarded hers, dropping all the equipment she could in a bid to lighten the load, unclipping her equipment belt and watching as it lazily fell to the floor, a last-minute addition to the mausoleum. She called up her helmet display, running through their route back to the surface, trying to work out how to shave the seconds they would need to make it back in time. No matter how she calculated it, they’d be cutting it fine.

  She looked around the room again, trying to soak it in for one last time. The unknown alien race had trusted their civilization to this chamber, hoping and praying that it would last through the centuries, last long enough for someone else to find it, decode it. To make them live again, even if only as a memory. How many other repositories like this might be scattered around human space, waiting to be discovered. They’d sped across the stars as fast as the wormhole network had expanded, leaping from system to system, often leaving countless asteroids and moons unexplored. And now they were paying the price for that carelessness.

  “Two panels left,” Belinsky said, frantically running his sensor over the panel, desperate to gather every scrap of text, every image. Novak glanced at her watch, a frown spreading across her face. They were running out of time, already behind, and even now, she was uncertain that they’d be able to make it back to the surface before the shuttle had to depart. The alien ship was providing a deadline they could do nothing to delay, and it didn’t take much imagination to realize what would happen when it arrived. The surface of Boreas was testament enough to that.