Twilight Serenade, page 14
part #6 of Earth Song Series
“Time is of the essence; get to the point please.”
“Yes, Leader. After the deleted segment you found is triggered by the arrival of at least six ships, it alerts the maneuvering system to prepare to move the station. That routine initiates a sensor scan of the stars. The data is sent to the control program which runs a probability subroutine, and that result is sent to the shield controls.”
“What happens then?” Sally asked, desperate. Almost all eyes in the CIC were on her.
“We’re still searching.”
“Stay on the line, tell me the instant you know!”
“Well?” Singh-Apal asked. Sally quickly, in simple terminology, explained the conundrum to the leader. He seemed more technologically savvy than the average male and followed her explanation well.
“To what effect?” he asked her. “All of these computer decisions appear to deceive.”
“And to waste our time,” Agan agreed.
“Time,” Sally mumbled, “more time.” She looked up and saw that the station had moved even closer to the K-class star which was sending huge solar prominences arcing across the skies. A particularly huge one was forming and climbing quickly, pulled by the gravity of the other stars.
She could tell by the High Leader’s mannerisms that his patience was at an end, but then it hit her like a lightning bolt. “The shields!” she cried.
“What about them?” Agan demanded.
“The last subroutine call sent probabilities to the shield control program.”
“What difference does that make?” he pushed her.
“Look,” she said, forgetting all form. She stood fully erect and pointed with a tentacle at the station display. “The station’s been maneuvering closer to that star, which is now forming a huge solar prominence. Whoever altered the program knew that would happen and set it to start once there were six ships inside the shields!”
“I still don’t—” Agan started, but as Sally finished her impassioned description, Singh-Apal spun around to look. The memory of his first fight against the elusive Kaatan came flooding back like a tidal wave.
“Order the second transport group to come about!” he bellowed and raced toward the command pylon. Agan stayed where he was, looking aghast. “Cease loading the EPCs. Disengage from the station and form up to retreat!”
“High Leader, the second squadron just reached the safety of the station’s shields. The area of solar activity was extreme, and their capacitors are full. The captains say they cannot be ready to leave and protect the transport for at least an hour.”
Agan thought for half a second before giving the next order. “Abandon both transports. Get those cruisers out of there.”
The tactical officer suddenly straightened. “The station is using powerful gravitic tractors. All the ships are being held!”
“Fire on the station!” Agan screamed, venom flying from his fangs. “Disable the tractors!”
As the cruisers tried to bring weapons to bear, the station’s shields dropped.
Lilith was a computer programming artist. The implants in her brain let her work in code the way some people worked in oils and clays. What she’d done was a masterful work of deceit and subterfuge. There were few beings in the Concordia as talented as Sally. Most would never have noticed.
When the shields fell, the solar prominence was just beginning to wash over them. The station was designed to deal with them; in fact, it fed on them. The energy was taken, processed, and stored for use in the starship-class capacitors. The deadly displays were of no threat to the station’s antennae, which extended outside the shields. They were designed to survive in that hellish plasma storm. The actual station was another matter.
Enough energy to power a dozen planets for a year washed over the station and the nearby ships. The station was instantly converted to plasma, consumed by the very power that had once fed it. In comparison to the 10,000-kilometer-wide prominence, the death of the ancient station was uneventful. The energy wave moved on and wiped out the T’Chillen transport and four cruisers.
The other four cruisers abandoned the transport they were escorting and fled. Their shields were already glowing red when the transport died. The rapidly growing prominence engulfed three of the cruisers. The fourth cleared the danger zone. Its shield glowed white, and one of its blown capacitor banks billowed smoke. It had been moments from death.
On his command pedestal, Singh-Apal sighed and shook his great, hooded head. Seven cruisers and two transports were gone in moments. The crews were irreplaceable. He noted in the official log that Sally had figured it out, and Agan delayed her report.
Agan looked from Sally to Singh-Apal and back. The guards were loyal to Singh-Apal, but Agan likely had some loyalists in the crew. Singh-Apal reached down to a hidden compartment in his pedestal that held a small beamcaster.
Agan turned and slithered out the door without saying anything. Singh-Apal caught Sally’s eye. She was looking at the dissipating solar prominence with resignation. She bowed slightly, and he bowed back. Then he began writing the after-action report.
Agan-Soufa shot himself in the head an hour later. Singh-Apal Katoosh had the corpse ejected into space where it slowly fell toward Dervish to join the thousands of other vaporized corpses.
* * * * *
Interlude
The command battlecruiser floated in the void, a light hour outside Dervish. The High Tactical Leader ordered his personal squadron to hold station while scientists studied the data from the encounter with the human ships.
“Humans,” Singh-Apal Katoosh hissed. “Filthy hominids.” He looked at his command screens as he made notes on orders. He was still without an assistant.
His repulsion was much more than a natural disgust of a species of hairless monkeys. His ego was bruised from repeated defeat at their hands. And the fact that the Rasa appeared to have survived extermination made him livid. The Grent had been silent for weeks; they were helping the cursed Tanam or Mok-Tok, no doubt.
“High Leader,” an underling said.
Singh-Apal turned a baleful gaze in the male’s direction. For the underling to bow any lower, he’d have to unlatch a deck plate and crawl under the floor. The situation amused Singh-Apal enough to lessen his foul mood a bit.
“Speak.”
“The expected transport arrives.”
Singh-Apal acknowledged, then launched himself off the command pedestal and slithered quickly across the bridge. The underling screeched and barely hopped out of the way of Singh-Apal’s flashing, razor-sharp tailspike.
A squad of personal bodyguards fell in behind him. After the repeated demonstrations of monkey treachery, he’d resigned himself to never being without a few extra tails.
By the time the High Leader reached the transfer dock, the transport had already arrived, and the doors were open. Replacement and transfer crews were already coming over. As the leader slithered out, all work ceased as the T’Chillen dropped to the deck in respect.
Singh-Apal dipped his hooded head and gestured with an arm tentacle. Instantly work resumed as if he weren’t there. Had they been under combat alert, they would not have observed his rank.
When Sing-Apal assumed control of the space forces, every ship’s officer from the captain down to the supply officer had required lower ranks and underlings to drop to the deck at their approach, regardless of the situation. He’d ended that practice. Of course, the minor nobles holding officer rank and any male with a small hood or puny tail spike had complained.
“What good is respecting a rank if the ship is being blown to pieces while underlings bow and scrape?” he’d raged to High Command. Ultimately, his orders stuck, largely through example.
Once the T’Chillen crew moved through, another pair of beings appeared. Singh-Apal’s eyestalks quivered in disgust and alertness. If any species could elicit more contempt than humans, it was this one. But, he was forced to admit he admired them and maybe respected them just a bit. They were formidable in combat.
“You summoned us?” the leader asked. It didn’t show the least sign of respect due a higher order species.
Such arrogance, Singh-Apal thought. He had the feeling he was making a mistake, but he proceeded anyway.
“You have had dealings with humans?”
“On several occasions,” the leader said. It stared directly into Singh-Apal’s eyestalks, without fear. “We enjoy fighting them.”
“They have formidable space assets now,” Singh-Apal told it. “However, their assets are not enough to stand against us in a major battle. But we cannot locate them.”
“We have no ships,” the alien said, “What good would we be?”
“You are renowned for finding your prey.” It was a small compliment, and it elicited a small nod from the leader of the aliens. The second alien, the one who had not spoken, watched Singh-Apal with its unnatural, unblinking eyes.
“We can track them. But, if they possess starships, it is going to be nearly impossible to find them.”
“What if you have ships?”
The second one narrowed its eyes the tiniest fraction of a millimeter, but it was more than enough for Singh-Apal to notice. The leader continued to speak for them.
“You would give us starships, just to find these humans?”
“I will require more than a simple tracking mission in exchange for starships.”
The second alien finally spoke. “If it is so simple, why don’t you do it, snake?”
Singh-Apal’s mouth fell open in shocked surprise. Not since he’d been a hatchling in the Madhu clan crèche had he been spoken to in such a manner. And then not for long. He was soon far too strong for anyone to order around.
It took all his will to not kill these two and all those on the transfer ship. He wouldn’t admit it to the inferior creatures, but he needed them.
“Come with me,” he ordered and turned to leave. After a second, he looked back and saw they hadn’t moved. Again, he fought with himself before bowing his head a centimeter. “If it pleases you, come with me.”
The two aliens nodded and followed. Behind them dozens more of their species milled around inside the transfer lock.
Singh-Apal and his personal guards led their guests to a large bay on a lower deck. The rear of the bay was closed off, leaving a large open space. Once they were all inside, Singh-Apal rounded on the aliens.
“Now that I’ve observed all your accursed niceties, are you interested in the deal? Or should I blow you all into space and look for other partners?”
The leader of the aliens replied, its voice calm. “We are interested. What are your terms.”
“We will give you four ships and the training and support to operate them. In exchange, you will provide any services we require for the next ten years. After that, you can do what you wish with the ships as long as you find your own support to keep them operating.”
The aliens looked at each other, communicating wordlessly. After a moment, the spokesman replied. “Six ships, for one year of service. And supplies for the life of the ships.”
Singh-Apal’s eyestalks partly retracted as he regarded the aliens for a long moment. They stared right back.
“Four ships and support for five years, after you have served us for five years.”
It took more haggling than Singh-Apal expected, but in the end, he had the deal he wanted. They brought the craft alongside.
The aliens swarmed aboard their new ships, obviously excited, as they examined a treasure trove almost unheard of in the galaxy. They knew that, in one shrewd deal, their species had gained almost immeasurable power. The two leaders watched silently.
There was just a hint of excitement from them as they regarded the ships, but Singh-Apal guessed it wasn’t for the ships as much as for the hunt to come.
* * * * *
Part II
Chapter 17
March 2nd, 535 AE
Deep Space, Approaching Ghost Fleet #2, The Frontier
Minu noted the destruction of the Dervish system power base and entered it into her personal log. The data feed came as a burst transmission from the station an instant before it was turned into energy particles. Lilith said there was little chance anyone had intercepted it, thanks to the Squeen. The details they’d given her on how to program and control who could read a signal from a quantum transmitter were incredibly useful.
At least 10 ships had been inside the station’s shields when Lilith’s program had dropped them. Of course, the station’s destruction cut off any details beyond that, but Lilith was fairly certain all of them had met their end.
“Cruisers,” Lilith told Minu. “They were all cruisers and two transports.”
“They waited almost two weeks, then only sent a few ships,” Minu said, chewing her lip. “That was almost… cautious, for the snakes.”
“I agree, Mom,” Lilith said. “Their tactics are evolving. That was a trap they set for me back there.”
“Have you analyzed the data on the strange ship that came to our rescue?”
“As much as possible, yes. I believe it may have been a drone.”
Minu looked away from the panorama of stars gliding by. Traveling at thousands of times the speed of light was almost normal. A light year slid by every half hour, almost 41 light years a day. Even at that fantastic speed, it would take lifetimes to cross the galaxy.
“Unmanned? Something that big?”
“Yes,” Lilith insisted. A holographic display separated from the wall and displayed recorded images of the strange battle rider as it deployed its parasite craft. The scene froze and became engineers’ wire drawings of the craft with arrows pointing to various parts. “Added to the data from the previous encounter, we now have a pretty good idea of how they work.
“The oversized craft that resembled Kaatan are not. They are only the same shape. Notice they only carry energy weapons, more like the Fiisk. They appear to be able to recharge weapons and dump loaded shield capacitors into their carrier. Also, their tactics suggest Combat Intelligence guidance. The Fiisk CI agrees. They are an interesting design and are unique in the database.”
Minu nodded. “But whose?”
“That is an interesting question. While there are some tacit similarities to design concepts the People studied prior to the end of the war, this was not a finished concept. Also, based on the scans I was able to make, that ship is nearly new.”
“We have a new player on the board,” Minu said under her breath. They appeared to be an ally. They certainly weren’t friendly with humanity’s enemies. She tried to remember who’d said, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” and failed.
“That’s twice they’ve shown up in the nick of time to help us,” Minu pointed out.
“Yes,” Lilith agreed. “Which suggests we are under surveillance.”
Minu nodded. “Be on the outlook, okay? I don’t care if they appear friendly, the thought of these…” she struggled for a name for them, “beings watching our every move is disconcerting.” Lilith agreed.
“Mindy is up,” Aaron’s voice whispered in her ear, “and she’s hungry.”
Minu shook her head. “When isn’t she hungry? I’ll be there in a minute. She has just enough time for a snack before we enter the ghost fleet’s sensor range.”
She glanced at the situation display that showed the Fiisk a light minute behind them. Eseel gunboats cruised on either side, extending the squadron’s sensor range many light years. An Ibeen would arrive in a few weeks’ time. The other ships were not nearly as fast as the Kaatan, so they traveled at the slowest speed for safety. Space grew more hazardous by the day, it seemed.
The squadron had taken a circuitous route to their destination to give the Beezer time to drop off cargo, pick up newly recruited crew, and rendezvous. If she was right, they were going to need the personnel.
“I have some additional information,” Lilith said. “I have made contact with the Chosen communications personnel you suggested through the modified quantum communicator.”
“Excellent! Did you tell them to keep it confidential?”
“As you instructed, Mom, though I am uncertain why you insisted on subterfuge.”
“I’ll explain later.” Minu gestured at her console. “Can you interface the Chosen communications network with us?”
Lilith nodded. The display on Minu’s consoles changed as Lilith added a standard Bellatrix communications pad.
“Thanks.” Minu consulted her personal tablet to check the time back home, then dialed a number from memory.
“Ted here,” a familiar voice answered.
“Hey, Ted, it’s your boss.”
“Minu! You almost home? I didn’t hear any sort of announcement.”
“You won’t,” Minu said. “I’m a couple thousand light years away.”
There was a protracted silence. “I assume you’re not calling through a portal?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Then this call is against the rules.”
“Rules? Ted, rules change.” Minu told him about the codes they’d gotten from the Squeen, and what the codes allowed them to do. She also told him about the new cooperation pact with the furred aliens.
“That’s quite a development,” Ted said after she’d finished.
“There’s more. We successfully salvaged the ghost fleet, including a Fiisk battlecruiser hybrid and all five Ibeen. The Fiisk is now operating with a surviving Kaatan Combat Intelligence.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Agreed. Lilith got the CI working, and we installed the remains of its Kaatan into the Fiisk. It’s kind of a kludge, but it works. The CI proved a bit of a treasure trove.” Minu told him about the vast combat fleet the CI had been a part of, including the three accessible dropoff points for damaged ships.
