Constitution: Book 1 of the Legacy Fleet Trilogy (21 page)

“You heard me. Five g’s.” He thumbed open his comm. “This is the captain. Prepare for severe gravitational and inertial disturbances. We’re about to hit five g’s. Grab on to something and hold on tight, people.”

Proctor dashed for an empty seat at the science station. “Strap in, everybody!”

Within a moment, the ship began to shake, far worse than the throbbing caused by the forced singularity weapon. Seconds later, the ship seemed to lurch forward, throwing them all against their restraints, then backward again, then forward, as the ship’s gravitational stabilizers struggled to calibrate themselves against the huge g-forces straining the ship.

“Ops, see if you can’t stabilize that grav field,” yelled Granger.

Proctor craned her head over to the ops station. “Increase the damping term in the harmonic oscillator kernel of the main grav program. Tie it directly to the output of the gravitational sensor array.”

Within a few moments, the shaking and lurching lessened, but they all still had to hold on to their chairs and consoles.

“Passing out of weapons range now, sir,” called out the tactical chief. “The second alien ship sustained moderate, but superficial damage.”

It was maddening to know that with every second that ticked past,
Valhalla Station
and the fleet was being picked apart. Hundreds, thousands of lives were being lost.
 

And Granger could do nothing.

“Commander Proctor. What did our sensors pick up during our flyby?”

“I haven’t had the chance to talk to the science team, sir.” She turned to them. “Anything?”

One of the science officers cleared his throat. “We’re still analyzing the data, sir, and I can’t say anything definitive.”

Granger rolled his eyes.
Scientists.
“Then say something speculative.”

“Well, sir, best guess.... It’s obvious that there is quantum coupling between the singularity and each of the alien ships participating in its generation. That’s how the teleportation happens—they’re essentially using quantum teleportation to transfer mass past the event horizon—”

“Wait,” said Granger, interrupting, “it’s a black hole. Why the hell can we see it?”

“We’re not seeing the black hole itself, sir. It’s actually microscopic. And the event horizon is less than a hundredth of a millimeter across. We’re just seeing the synchrotron radiation of the mass falling in as it orbits around.”

“Ah. Go on, then.”

The rumbling of the ship had started to intensify, but there was nothing they could do about it. The science officer continued, “Well, the link appears to go both ways. Obviously, it’s quantum coupling—what happens to the singularity affects the power cores of the alien ships. At least, I assume they’re using their power cores to generate the energy to transmit the quantum signal.”

“And did we detect some change when the
Rainbow
hit the singularity?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, sir. There was certainly a fluctuation in the link between the singularity and the ships. But at the moment of impact, the data is all washed out due to the spike in the gravitational waves coming off of it—when the
Rainbow
hit, that’s a whole lot of mass to get absorbed all at once, and it resulted in, essentially, a very miniature supernova. In fact, that’s what’s going on when they launch or teleport the singularity at their target. The amount of mass falling in overwhelms the black hole, bounces off the singularity at the core, and explodes outward with extraordinary energy.”

So that was the fate of Lunar Base. They were essentially caught up in a miniature supernova explosion. Good god.

“Well, keep at it. We need some answers.”

“Aye, sir,” the science officer said, turning back to the data on his screen.

A distant rumble preceded a violent lurch that would have launched everyone out of their seats were their restraints not fastened. As the rumbling increased, a loud droning whine coursed through the ship. “Sir, our grav stabilizers can’t handle this. We’re about to lose gravity, and if we keep it up we may lose q-jump capability too—”

Granger thumped his armrest and swore to himself. “Of course,” he muttered. He glanced at his console and saw that they probably only had enough stored energy for one q-jump. A second would require another hour or so of charging. “Cut the thrust to three g’s,” he said to the nav crew, before adding, “and prepare for q-jump.”

“Sir?” Ensign Prince looked up, surprised. “To where?”

“Where the hell do you think?”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Near Earth

Bridge, ISS Constitution

“Brilliant,” Commander Proctor said, tapping at her own console, which surprised Granger. It wasn’t a particularly brilliant maneuver, just one that was not often done due to the stresses involved in q-jumping so close to the gravity well of Earth, and definitely not while engaged in a deceleration burn. The strain on the
Constitution
would be considerable, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Proctor continued, “And we’ll have enough energy stored up for a second jump if we cut power to the main engines and—”

“We’re not cutting power to the mains, Commander. We’re going to q-jump and continue decelerating until we’re right back in the thick of things. Draw their fire off the rest of the fleet, since our armor seems to be the only thing that can take a beating and come out the other end alive.”

Proctor glanced up at him. “But, sir, our gun crews report that we’ve run through our loaded ordnance. It’ll take another half hour to get fully loaded again.”

“
Every
mag-rail is depleted?”

She glanced at her screen to confirm. “Mostly, yes. Crews five, twenty, and forty-three through forty-five still have about half a magazine each, but the rest are already engaged in reload.”

Granger shrugged. “Fine. You go to battle with the army you have, Commander, and our people need us.”

A few minutes later, the calculations were complete, and Granger prepared to give the order to jump. “All hands, prepare for battle. You’ve performed admirably twice so far. Let’s show them what we’re made of this time. Anticipate heavy incoming fire. Damage crews be on alert and make main power and mag-rails your priority. All fighters, prepare to launch.”

Before signaling the q-jump, he tapped the comm. “Commander Pierce, this is Granger. Your boys ready?”

“Ready for action, sir. We’ll give them an ass-whooping they won’t soon forget,” came the young CAG’s reply. Granger knew the young man was probably still reeling from the knowledge of his father’s certain death, but he was handling it admirably. Professional and unflappable—just how they were trained to be.

“Good. Are the
Qantas’
s fighters integrated into the squadrons?”

“As best we could, sir. There’s still some lingering communications and computer system integration, but we’ll just have to do the best we can.”

“Good man. Focus your attention on the Swarm fighters. Let us take care of the capital ships, but stand by for updates. Granger out.”

With that, he signaled to Ensign Prince to initiate the q-jump, and within a few seconds the familiar queasy, vaguely off-balanced feeling typical of q-jumps washed over him before he steadied himself on his chair.

“Time to weapons range?” he asked, as he watched the view of the continuing battle raging near the wreckage of
Valhalla Station
subtly change, indicating their change in position.

“Thirty seconds.”

“Hold fire until we’re right in the middle of it. Then let loose on that second ship we were targeting earlier. Fighters, prepare to launch in”—he glanced at his readout, looking for their arrival time—“two minutes.”

On the screen, the battle still raged, but things were looking far more grim than they were just ten minutes ago when they flew past the first time. Several more IDF capital ships had broken up into dozens of smaller pieces, and as they watched, another small cruiser took a direct blast from the deadly green directed-energy weapon and erupted into a blinding explosion as its power core went critical. The blast caught dozens of fighters in its wake, sending them careening into other vessels or off into deep space. Wreckage hurtled through the field of the battle, and it looked as if the remaining IDF ships were rallying for a sustained assault on the alien ship the
Constitution
had damaged on its previous flyby.

“What’s the comm chatter like?” he asked the communications officer.

“Admiral Jones on the
Trident
has taken command of the fleet, sir—all comm traffic from
Valhalla Station
is silent. He’s ordering all craft to close in on the alien ship we damaged and concentrate fire on it.”

“Great minds think alike,” Granger said wryly. “When we arrive, position the
Constitution
between the alien ship and as many IDF vessels as you can.” He turned to the tactical station. “And stay on the lookout for that singularity. I want to know the second they start generating it.”

“Aye, sir. Ten seconds until we engage.”

“Speed?”

“Down to one thousand kph and falling.”

Proctor frowned. “We’re still coming in too fast.”

Ensign Prince nodded. “We’ll overshoot by about fifty kilometers. It’ll take a few more minutes to swing back around.”

“Open fire,” said Granger. “Launch fighters. Commander Pierce, engage the alien fighters. Draw their fire away from the cruisers. See if you can’t lure them towards the other two alien ships to act as a defensive screen they’ll have to target and fire through.”

“Aye, sir,” came several voices at once.

And with that, they entered into close engagement combat for the second time in a day. The battle near Lunar Base already seemed like ages ago, as if they were all battle-hardened veterans. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity. Yesterday he was about to retire the oldest ship in the fleet and take a desk job in an IDF that hadn’t seen so much as a border dispute in over seventy years, and now they were all veterans who knew more dead comrades than living.

The ship rumbled. Green lit up the viewscreen as an alien beam slammed into the forward section.

“Evasive maneuvers. Starboard thrusters, engage at point five,” yelled Proctor. “Emergency crews to port mag-rails. Get guns twenty through forty reloaded now!”

Granger nodded. His new XO was getting a handle on combat. Hell, for that matter, they all were.

The ship shuddered again with another sustained blast. “Heavy damage in the forward section, port side! They’ve cut through the hull!”

Damn. Ten meters of solid tungsten, cut through like a filleted fish. He wondered how the remaining IDF ships had lasted so long.

As if in answer, the nearest heavy cruiser flared in a blinding flash. Debris and bodies came streaming out of the fissures in the ship as it broke in two.

“That was the
Trident,
sir,” said the comm officer.

Admiral Jones was dead. He glanced at his command readout at the roster of available IDF ships and realized there were no admirals left. Not even a commodore. And of all the remaining captains, he had the longest tenure, which in the absence of any standing order transferring command, meant that he was it.

“Open a channel to the fleet,” he said with a nod to the comm station.

“Open, sir.”

“This is Captain Granger. I’m taking operational command of the fleet. Any cruisers with offensive nuclear capabilities, contact me immediately. All capital ships, focus your fire on the lead. All corvettes and frigates, swarm around the other two. Aim for their weapons installations. Keep at least five hundred meters between each ship to avoid collateral damage in case of catastrophic loss. All fighter squadrons, engage the alien fighters and draw them away from our cruisers....”

On the screen, another light cruiser erupted into a spherical white blast, punctuated by the nightmarish green alien energy beam. He grimly added, “And if your vessel is in imminent danger of loss, you’re hereby ordered to execute Omega Protocols.”

Proctor glanced over at him, her face grim. “Has it come to that?”

He simply nodded, without responding. Omega Protocols—he’d just ordered the fleet captains to be suicide runners.

“Sir, the four new alien ships are nearly here. Two minutes until they’re in weapons range.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Near Earth

Bridge, ISS Constitution

Two minutes. They seemed to be finally holding their own against the original three alien ships—at least, a third of the IDF fleet was still firing and hadn’t been lost yet. But four more alien ships meant their very certain and quick deaths.

“We just lost the
Furious
and the
Minnesota
, sir. Those were our only two heavy cruisers with nuclear missiles still in service.” The tactical officer sounded grim and distant. Granger looked around at the bridge crew—they looked like dead men and women, like they had given up and knew their deaths were certain and imminent.

The ship shuddered with another direct blast from the alien’s devastating energy weapon. “Sir! Hull breach on deck twenty, forward section!”

“Seal bulkheads!” yelled Proctor. “Get emergency crews up there!”

Another explosion rumbled through the ship, and then another much closer which caused the bridge to lurch, dislodging more material from the jagged crack across the ceiling and starboard wall.

And inevitably, the tell-tale throbbing and rhythmic shuddering began. Not of explosions or the impact of the energy beams, but a harbinger of something far worse.

“Sir, they’re initiating the singularity!”

On the screen, again, the now familiar white shimmering light appeared in the midst of the three alien ships. The green beams ceased as the three ships apparently paused to redirect all their attention and energy to the generation of the singularity.

And there could only be one target.
Valhalla Station
was ruined, tumbling apart in pieces. The
Furious
and the
Minnesota
were destroyed, and the only remaining heavy cruisers were belching flame and debris. The smattering of light cruisers darting around the alien ships, unleashing whatever weapons they still had, were no great threat. The
Constitution
was the largest target around.