The Complete Union Earth Privateers, page 43
Somehow the sympathy was just as bad as the admonishment, and the heat of anger tugged at Victoria’s edges.
“Director Sampson is in mortal danger, and if the xenos don’t kill him, I just might. Oh, and apparently the Kossovoldt can suck all the oceans and air off an entire planet, so that’s neat. Did I mention they know where Earth is?”
Red frowned. “Vick, I know what you think you saw, but there’s no way the Kossovoldt spoke to you. You were in a coma—”
“Don’t you fucking dare start with that ‘I dreamed it all’ bullshit. I don’t find it beyond reason that a race capable of traversing space in ships of living crystal might have a few tricks beyond our understanding.”
The marine major still looked skeptical. His world was grounded, for lack of a better term, in tactics, gunpowder, and what he could see and touch and hear.
Victoria was quickly running out of righteous indignation. She waited for no further reply from the chief of her marine attachment.
She pushed past him, seeking refuge in her stateroom. The largest stateroom on the Condor boasted almost as much room as a prison cell, if you ignored the piping and electrical conduits overhead. With an adjoining head and shower, it was practically the height of luxury this far from Earth.
She considered her locker. She should sleep. But there was a bottle of ten-year in there--she’d intended on saving it until after she’d saved the day…
She deserved it. She opened the cabinet.
It was gone.
“Fucking Red,” she snarled, digging through the folded coveralls again.
It wasn’t even like she could write him up. What would that look like? My subordinate poured my unreported contraband whiskey down a drain, so I couldn’t get drunk prior to a combat action. Recommend formal disciplinary proceedings. That bastard.
“I should have stayed on the beach.”
***
Victoria woke to the crackle of static, a precursor to the transmissions routed through her stateroom growler. "Captain to the Conn." She opened her eyes, activating her retinal implants, and she scanned the progress of the Condor, then shrugged back into her coveralls.
Almost four hours had passed since she had left the captain's couch, but for Vick, it had been the blink of an eye. She was still exhausted, but the short rest and a decent caffeine bar would keep her functioning for another day. A full six to eight down was a luxury that happened for crew members. It never happened for officers, and especially not the captain of a Privateer vessel. Victoria had learned to live without. Even on shore leave, she hadn't slept more than five or six hours at a time in almost a decade.
Clumsy, it took two tries to unlatch the door and stumble out past two crewmen accessing the portside railgun accelerator terminal for maintenance. Her head hurt as if she had gotten too much drink, instead of not enough. The junior Privateers gave her a wide berth. Two minutes later, she was settling into her command couch, awake and alert.
"Captain Marin has the deck and the Conn,” said Victoria. The ship’s log chirped its acknowledgement of the watch change. “Report," she said over the open microphone.
"Conn, Sensors,” came Avery’s voice. “We picked up a laser comm buoy with the IFF code of the Huxley. You'll want to read it for yourself."
Avery sent the message to her command repeater, and she scanned the decrypted ASCII message.
Huxley inbound Archimedes station
Attempting RF interrogation—
Unsuccessful
Attempting tightbeam interrogation—
Successful. Logs show unauthorized access attempts to crypto data. System in standby. Requires hard reset to access database
Moving to investigate. Possible xeno incursion—
Isolation protocols active. Transponder disabled.
“So,” said Victoria. “Jax made it into the system and went full emissions blackout. The old pirate must have expected a trap.” The unauthorized access attempts and the fact he hadn't reactivated his radio suggested he very possibly found one. Xeno incursion into human-occupied space had happened before.
Huian glanced back from the pilot’s station. “Do you think he pushed on to reinforce the colony defenses?”
Vick shook her head. ”Incursion protocols. The top priority isn’t reinforcement; it’s isolation. Cutting off a xeno’s ability to follow the breadcrumbs back to Earth takes priority over any single colony.”
Vick ran a hand through her hair as she considered. Were it not for the value of Director Sampson, there would be no extraction effort, no one to investigate at all. As it was, Victoria wasn’t sure she could turn her back on the colony if she started thinking of its people, despite her mission. Picking up stragglers could jeopardize the rest of humanity. Should a xeno fleet truly have motivation to find Earth or the UE's other satellite colonies, they would be hard-pressed to connect the dots, but it was still possible. Any of Earth’s rivals could wipe humanity from the stars. Union Earth gave the Maeyar plenty of reason to do so.
Vick thumbed the general circuit. "All hands, prepare to man general quarters at 0330 hours, once we approach within two million kilometers of the relay. Get some rest if you can," said Victoria. She thumbed the switch back to the command open mic and summoned the firewatch to bring her coffee and energy bars.
"Huian, cut compression, and bring the main engines online. But keep them running cool for now. We got a good look at the Maeyar sensors, so at least we’ve got a good idea of their detection threshold. Let’s assume they’re out there. And that they’re watching for us. I sure as hell want to spot them first."
Huian dropped the power to the Alcubierre, and the xenon ion engine took over. The low EM emissions and practically nonexistent thermal signature of the ion engine was the obvious choice.
"Engines at thirty-five, Skipper."
"Hold course and acceleration. Avery, any sign of the Maeyar?"
"Negative, Vick. All known Maeyar EM and engine emission signatures are absent on passive sensors."
"Stay sharp. Engineering, GSD status?"
"Conn, Engineering, GSD and attenuator are both running smooth. Reintegration seems to have taken, but it's pulling more heat with the modifications. Nothing the sinks can't handle though."
The Gravitic Stealth Device calculated the weight of the Condor down to within a kilogram and projected an antigravity field to neutralize the distortion. Most Maeyar ships weren't outfitted with the technology yet, but Victoria had heard the Maeyar Admiral, Arda, complain of its uselessness planetside during the battle in the storms of the planet Juna. The squadron carriers and likely anything above a cruiser would challenge their stealth with gravimetric sensors.
Jax was somewhere in-system and not reporting in. Victoria could take no chances.
The Condor’s braking shutters opened, redirecting the thrust of the xenon ion engine. By the time Victoria gave the order to man general quarters, a tense silence had settled on the ship. Maintenance had stopped; intercom reports took on a hushed tone. Everyone was expecting… something. The relay waited ahead, shrouded from the system's sun by the shadow of the second planetoid around which it orbited.
"Conn, Sensors. I'm picking up a high concentration of ionized xenon streaming, and multispectral is showing plasmic scores along the relay. Nothing on visual."
"Acknowledged. Huian, take us into middle orbit, and make our range to the relay eight thousand kilometers," said Victoria—he max range of the commo laser in vacuum before it became too scattered for accurate connections. Victoria didn’t want to get closer without more information. The Huxley used an identical propulsion system to the Condor, and anyone who knew what to look for could see the bursts of ionized xenon that suggested speedy departure from the listening post.
The relay was still invisible to her optical sensors, even against the black backdrop of the looming planetoid. The damage to the relay could have been any number of weapons, possibly even incidental to the attack on Jax. Or it could be damage from a solar event, which may also have overloaded the IFF circuits on the relay and caused the shutdown.
“Eight thousand kilometers from the relay, ma’am,” said Huian. She adjusted the orbit to minimize the angle of daytime on the planetoid. No sense giving themselves away with bounced light from the glassy surface. Victoria fingered her communication panel and initiated the laser connection protocol.
“Looks like the station is still receiving,” said Victoria, skimming the access logs. “Archimedes lab broke Emcon eight days ago trying to get help via FTL comms. By then the relay had already halted all outbound communication, so we never got their message. But at least they might still be alive.”
“What’s it say, ma’am?” asked Huian.
Victoria frowned. “Xeno incursion in-system. Position secure. Expedite immediate extraction.” Vick shook her head. “Fucking Sampson. As if anyone would be out here breaking protocol for any other reason.”
Humanity’s worst fears were very close to being realized. Archimedes was considered within Earth’s backyard, far from any major fronts with the Big Three. But humans had plenty of neighbors. It wasn’t a stretch that a human spacecraft might be traced back to its point of origin—if it was spotted coming out of horizon space. Or entering it.
“The unauthorized access attempt was twelve days ago. Shit, the xenos tried to get into our comms gear. So much for hoping Jax forgot his crypto account password.”
Victoria’s open mic comm circuit chirped, and Avery’s voice came over the speaker, edged with concern. “Conn, Sensors. I’m getting some weird optometrics bounce off the surface of the relay. Something doesn’t match the light-absorbing material of the superstructure. There’s a one-meter section near the comm receiver reflecting more light than it should be.”
At eight thousand meters, the communications laser spread was enough to reach beyond the scope of the inch-wide receiver. That excess energy was causing a heat anomaly on the relay’s surface. But it was too perfect, almost like…
“It’s a signal!” shouted Victoria, cutting him off. She swung her tactical screen into position and began barking orders. “Cut the communication. Tactical, ready the rails, arm missiles and countermeasures. Huian, pull us out of orbit.”
The view of the planetoid drifted downward as the Condor rotated. The matte black skin of the relay should have been invisible on the magnified viewscreen, but a tiny red star of glowing light bloomed. A distressingly visible glow, clear to any telephoto lens or infrared detector within a quarter-million kilometers.
“Sensors, we just sprung the trap, and someone was watching. Talk to me.”
Two, then three signatures popped up on Victoria’s tactical repeater as her sensor team marked the trio of possible contacts emerging from the horizon of the planet on the far side of the relay, also in high orbit and with a decreasing bearing rate. The initial range estimates populated her screen as the fire control team tried to keep up and develop weapon solutions.
“Maeyar fighters?” Victoria demanded into the open channel. “Huian, bring us about, full acceleration. Use the surface’s gravity to give us a head start. Low altitude slingshot towards the star.”
“Aye, ma’am,” said Huian, making the course adjustments to skim the planet’s surface.
“Conn, Sensors,” Avery said. “The contacts are too big and too cold to be Maeyar fighters. Residual heat indicates they’re accelerating. No IFF.”
“Shit! Aft launchers prepare to fire, minimum solution.”
Victoria gripped her command couch’s arms as she scanned the target data. It came in piecemeal: a bit of bounced light, a thermal silhouette, as each craft made course corrections. But nothing concrete.
Carillo’s deep voice came over the speaker. “Conn, Tactical. Minimum required solution achieved based on zero bearing rate, range estimate one-hundred-fifty KK. Ready to fire aft launchers.”
Fucking Carrillo had no idea of the range; he only knew that if they were within one hundred and fifty thousand kilometers, the Condor would be receiving active emissions of some kind, be it laser range-finding or standoff missile-targeting. But they weren’t receiving anything, not even targeting radar. Sensors were practically blind, and the contacts were still intermittent. Whatever sensors they were using to track the Condor, they were entirely passive suites, not an easy task to accomplish, and it was making them extremely difficult to pin down.
There was no sense pretending the Condor could still remain stealthy.
“Fire aft missiles,” said Victoria.
Vick’s armrests vibrated underneath her hands as the familiar shudder of missiles launching translated through the hull of the Condor. The sensation was almost a comfort, were it not for the mortal danger it tended to herald.
Keeping the main viewscreen panned aft of the ship, she could see the three missiles vanish from view on plumes of exhaust, gone from sight even before replacement missiles slammed home in the tubes with another shudder running through the bulkheads. Within seconds, the missiles had streaked to either side of the Archimedes Relay. A minute passed, then three, and then her advancing foe abandoned stealth.
Some seventy-five KK away, the space over the lifeless planetoid erupted into a brilliant display of blue-white plasmic lightning, and the missiles detonated underneath the torrent.
Graylings.
In human space.
On the main viewscreen, optical sensors captured stills of three ships at the moment of detonation. This could be no chance encounter. Graylings had found or tracked a human vessel to this location. If Jax hadn’t seen them coming, he was dead. The Huxley wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes against a trio of cutters. He had either escaped or been destroyed long before any help arrived.
The attack had illuminated two light cutters, each slightly smaller than the Condor, and a heavy cutter adjusting course and slowing to approach the relay.
Victoria snarled under her breath. “Tactical, target the relay; fire aft tubes.”
Carillo’s hesitant voice sounded over the mic. “Vick, you sure about this?” He knew the repercussions of taking out one of Earth’s few, precious FTL relays. All the personnel and stations it serviced would be completely cut off from communication until courier vessels could be routed. But the Graylings had traced Jax to the station, then chased him off and planted the light-activated beacon.
And that beacon had seen all communication protocols required to access the relay’s database via the Condor’s laser. Repeating that sequence could give a xeno access to messaging coordinates for a dozen star systems. Systems that were only a few jumps away from Earth.
Of all humanity’s enemies, Graylings were the ones Victoria most feared seeing above Earth’s skies. They were perfect hunters, with one consciousness spread across a multitude of hungry bodies. And they had marked humans as their perfect prey. Only the Privateer ships posed them any real threat. If they used the relay to access other human worlds, the body count would stack higher than the stars.
“Fire aft tubes,” said Victoria. Any more delay and the Graylings might be able to provide point defense for the relay. Then there would be no stopping them.
The Condor shuddered again as two more missiles sporting small nuclear payloads shunted out and disappeared from optics on twin plumes of frozen propellant. Not for the first time, Victoria wished she had an aft-facing railgun. She watched the overlay mark the trajectory of the missiles and the closing Grayling cutters. They were spreading methodically, improving their ranging solution on the fleeing Condor and staying just above the horizon.
The two missiles reached the relay and detonated. A sphere of nuclear fire bloomed, several thousand meters across in an instant, and was gone again just as quick. The flash lit up the night-side of the planetoid’s surface. It also revealed both the position of the cutters and of the Condor, itself. For a brief moment, the battle held no more mystery to anyone involved.
The Grayling formation pressed on despite the display. They clearly had her dialed in. Tracking human ships was no easy feat, even when knowing what to look for. Whoever the mind behind the many bodies crewing those ships, it had hunted humans before.
“Conn, Engineering. No damage to aft systems, radiation approaching nominal levels.”
”Engineering, Conn. Aye,” said Victoria, pulling up her astral calculator on the navigation repeater. “Huian, take us closer to the planet. Increase acceleration, and set exit trajectory at these coordinates, over the valley.” She sent a set of nav calculations to her pilot.
Huian glanced at her own display and made the initial course corrections, bringing their altitude dangerously low over the surface of the planetoid. Mountains and ravines whipped past, giving way to a massive cratered desert. Victoria watched the Condor’s pilot guide the ship into the stark, sunlit side of the nameless planetoid.
The surface on this hemisphere constantly faced the star, baking at a temperature of thousands of degrees. Whatever heat signature the Condor had shown the xenos before, it was now a cold speck against the hellish landscape. Infrared sensors spiked on the belly of the ship.
Huian skimmed the ship across the surface. No atmosphere meant no loss of acceleration. The low approach should cause a few moments of blindness for the Graylings—a chance for Victoria to maneuver. The landscape below shot past in a blur.
The Grayling ships disappeared below the horizon of the planetoid, reacting to the change in tactics too late to maintain line of sight with their target. Once out of view, Huian turned the nose of the Condor toward the system’s star.
“Input a new heading,” said Victoria as the computer finished crunching her navigational requirements. She forwarded the data to Huian, and the navigator executed her orders.
