Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (38 page)

AS Midway

X49 system approaching X48 warp gate

The Fleet: 102 ships, 26178 crew

“Thirty seconds until transit, sir.” Cortez sounded firm, unafraid. Compton knew that wasn’t possible…all of his people were scared, himself included. But he suspected his tactical officer had made his peace with death. He had no idea how many of his people harbored beliefs they might survive whatever was waiting in X48, but he doubted Cortez was one of them. The commander was a realist, and he didn’t seem prone to self-delusion as so many others were.

Compton himself harbored no doubts. The enemy had driven them back, all the way through the Slot, blocking every possible route save one. His fleet was being herded to its destruction. He knew it…he knew it as clearly as he’d ever known anything. But there was still nothing he could do about it. He’d wracked his brain for other options, but there simply weren’t any. It felt like a chess game, a move or two from checkmate, but with no way out, no alternative to escape the trap.

“Very well, Commander.” There was nothing more to say. His people had their orders. His engineering crews would spring into action the moment
Midway
emerged in X48, doing whatever meager bit they could to urge along the natural process of the ship’s systems returning to functionality.

And if there are enemy ships waiting like there were in X49, they will have a minute, perhaps two, to fire at us before we can shoot back. Then we will fight. As we will do, each of us, until they have destroyed the fleet utterly.

“Ten seconds to transit.” It was Captain Horace on the shipwide com.
Midway
was his ship to run, to fight. And Compton knew there wasn’t a better man or woman in the fleet to be at the helm of his flagship.

He leaned back, closed his eyes as the ship slid into the still-poorly understood phenomenon that allowed men to traverse the stars. Warp gates had allowed humanity to colonize a thousand solar systems, but the science behind them was tenuously understood, at best.

Compton usually felt a bit nauseous in transit. It was mildly unpleasant, nothing he couldn’t handle. But he tended to hold himself still and try to breathe deeply. It wouldn’t do for the fleet admiral to lose the contents of his stomach in front of his crew. Somehow, he felt that would tarnish the image, the myth that had built up around him. And the near-worship his legendary status inspired was far likelier to drive his spacers to greater efforts than would their amusement at a partially digested ration bar soiling his uniform.

He felt the little shift, the rippling through his insides that told him
Midway
had left X49. She was now in X48, which his astro-navigators told him was 7.1 lightyears away.

The flag bridge was silent. His officers understood the situation, but there was nothing for them to do, at least not until their systems came back online. Warp transits hit a ship’s inner workings hard, generally scragging everything—reactors, computers, scanners, com. It rarely caused any lasting damage, but it knocked a ship out of commission for anywhere from a minute to five or six. More if the crews weren’t in top form.

I’m not worried about that. At least not on Midway
.

Compton was proud of all his people, but his own staff—and Horace’s crew on
Midway
—were above and beyond even the others. He knew they would do their very best, no matter what, without prodding from him.

“Scanners coming online.” Horace’s voice came blasting through his com. His flag captain would keep him in the loop, let him know
Midway’s
exact status, he was certain of that.

He turned toward Cortez. “Okay, Jack…we’ve got scanners coming back online. Let’s get a sweep going…and get our other ships on the display.”

“On it, Admiral.” The tactical officer was hunched over the screen. A few seconds later, “No enemy contacts, at least not in the immediate vicinity.” His face was pressed against the scope for perhaps another half minute. Then he looked up and over at Compton. “Confirmed, sir. No enemy contacts…anywhere. The fleet continues to transit. Twenty-one ships through already, sir.”

Compton sat still in his chair. He knew he should feel relieved. The quick scan was far from comprehensive, but the results were the best he could have expected. But that’s not how he saw it. If anything, he was even more certain his people had been driven into a trap.

“Concentrate a deep scan, Commander. I want to know if there are enemy ships waiting farther in system.”

“Yes, sir,” Cortez replied, as he turned back toward his workstation.

Compton flipped his com back to Horace’s line. “James, everything back online?”

“Pretty much, Admiral,” came the nearly instantaneous reply. “We’ve got a couple small burnouts, and some secondary computer systems are still rebooting. But we’ve got engines, weapons, reactor…she’s ready for whatever you need, sir.”

“Very good, Captain. Prepare for high gee maneuvers. If the scans don’t pick up any enemy activity, we’re going to hop in the tanks and see how quickly we can get to planet two. Maybe we’ll get lucky…and we can grab our people and get the hell out of here before that pursuing force transits in.” He didn’t believe it, not a bit. But he hoped his voice suggested hope.

“Very well, Admiral. We’ll be ready when you give the order.”

Compton closed the channel.

“Admiral, concentrated scan shows no activity in the system. No signs of any vessels, and no energy trails suggesting recent passage.”

Compton just nodded. He was surprised. They were alone in X48…or at least that’s what it looked like. But he knew that couldn’t be right.
You’re still in a trap
, he thought to himself. But he had no choices anyway. All he could do was do was go pick up the landing party…assuming any of them were still alive. If he got that far, if the people on the ground had survived through some miracle…then maybe. Just maybe.

“Commander, as soon as all ships have transited, we’re going to execute a 30g sustained acceleration toward planet two.” It would be another hour, at least, before the fleet was assembled in X48. And anything could show up on the scanners in that time.

“Yes, sir. I will advise each vessel as it rejoins the com link.”

Compton sighed softly, to himself. He still expected to die, probably within the next few hours, or a day at most. But he disciplined himself. His people deserved more than fatalism, more than a commander who had given up hope. He would push, fight with the last of his strength…he would never give up. And he wouldn’t let any of his people yield either.

“And Commander?”

“Yes, sir?

“All ships that have transited are to conduct immediate systemwide diagnostics. We’re not losing anybody because of a routine burnout or a basic system failure.”

“Yes, sir.”

That will keep them busy…and their minds off the danger
.

The crews hated diagnostics. And if they could pass the next hour grumbling about their SOB commander rather than thinking about the hundreds of ships they knew were chasing them, so much the better.

*    *    *

“Still nothing. I just don’t understand.” Terrance Compton was walking toward one of the shower jets along the wall. The floor was slick with the viscous fluid that filled the tanks during high gee maneuvers. Compton had seen a lot of rookies take nasty spills trying to extricate themselves from a tank, but he’d done this more times than he could even guess, and his legs compensated by instinct, adjusting every time his feet slipped.

He’d been in more than one fight where his crews had been forced to rush from the tanks to their posts under battle conditions. It was one of the least glamorous experiences in space travel, sitting at a workstation in deadly danger, enduring the stress of battle and the discomfort of slowly-drying goo all over your body, your clothes plastered to your skin. But there wasn’t an enemy ship in sight, indeed nowhere in the X48 system that
Midway’s
scanners could detect…and the nav computers could position his ships in and around planetary orbit. That gave his people a few extra minutes.

“At least the enemy is giving us a chance for a shower.” James Horace was standing next to the admiral, the two of them buck naked and covered in slime, just like everyone else in the large chamber. The Superpowers had varying cultural standards and moral codes…and nudity taboos varied from nation to nation. But those choosing a career in the Powers’ respective navies got over them quickly. Spaceships were cramped affairs, even the big battleships were always short of free space. And you went into the tanks naked. You floated there naked in the slop that filled them. And you climbed out naked and, if the tactical situation offered, you showered and dressed, surrounded by your comrades, men and women. There was no place in space war for the bashful.

Compton nodded and walked over to the showers, closing his eyes as the hot water jets sprayed all over him, washing him clean in an instant. A few seconds later a blast of hot air dried him just as quickly. He felt immediately better, and with the increased physical comfort, his mind started to clear. He was still sluggish…the drugs remained in his system, and the ones the med unit had injected to counteract them were only partially effective. It would be at least an hour before he was truly back to normal. Still, he was much sharper than he’d been in the tank, and for now he’d take that.

“I want scanners on max, James. I mean max. I don’t trust this, not for a minute. The enemy didn’t chase us here just to let us go. If they’re not here hiding, then they’re coming.”

“I agree, sir. I’d like to launch some fighters…to do a longer-ranged sweep. There are asteroids and particulate clouds all over this system. Lots of places enemy ships could hide from our long-ranged scanners.”

“You’re right,” Compton said, as he squeezed into the survival suit he wore under his combat uniform. “I’ll order Hurley to launch one of her wings. That will leave the rest of her squadrons in reserve. Just in case.”

Horace nodded, zipping up his uniform. “With your permission, Admiral, I’ll get back to the bridge.”

Compton nodded, wondering to himself how his flag captain had dressed himself so quickly. He was still putting on his pants himself. “You go,” he said, standing up and reaching for his shirt. I’ll be on the flag bridge.

Horace stepped back and snapped off a quick salute. Then he trotted toward the central lifts. Compton sat down on a small bench and slipped his feet into one of his boots. He looked around, over his shoulder. It looked like two thirds of his people were already dressed, gone or on their way out the door.

Maybe Horace isn’t so quick after all. Maybe it’s just me who’s slow. Getting old, I guess
.

He let out a quick sigh and shoved his foot in the other boot. Then he hopped up, following the wave of hurriedly reassembled spacers to the transport tubes.

*    *    *

“Orbit established, Admiral. Scanning the surface now.”

The response stuck in Compton’s throat, and he just nodded silently. His face was a mask, impervious, unshakable, but inside he was mourning for his friends. He knew many of his spacers were trying to be hopeful, expecting to find the expedition unharmed and ready to evac. But Compton’s mind was fixed on
Wolverine
. The ship had been attacked, that much was certain. And that meant First Imperium ships had been to X48 II.

He stifled a sigh. Max Harmon was dead, that was almost certain. Captain Montcliff’s report had been clear, and it left no room for doubt, or for hope. Harmon had been in a shuttle, under attack by a First Imperium Gremlin. He’d had no chance.

He’d briefly latched on to the belief that it hadn’t been a Gremlin, that
Wolverine
and Harmon’s shuttle had run into some vestigial part of the planet’s defensive grid, a satellite or something similar. That probably wouldn’t have increased Harmon’s chances, but at least it left a possibility that the expedition had remained undetected. But a review of
Wolverine’s
scanner records killed that hope. There was no question. They’d been attacked by a Gremlin. And where one First Imperium vessel visited, others would have followed.

Compton had been over and over things in his mind, but he kept coming back to the same bleak place. It had been almost five Earth weeks since
Wolverine
had made its escape…more than enough for that Gremlin to have called for help.

Which makes it even more inexplicable why there are no forces in this system…at least forces that we know of…

Compton stared at the main display, at the blue and white globe beneath them. The planet was beautiful, there was no question of that. But Compton saw only death. Sophie, Hieronymus, Ana…everyone he’d sent down there. He’d believed they were dead for weeks, but it was different now. Before, there had been at least some uncertainty, some spark his mind could cling to. But in a few seconds it would be confirmed. The doubts would be…

“Sir, I’m picking up energy readings. And the optical scanners are getting images of what appear to be cultivated areas.” Cortez spun around. “Admiral we’re definitely getting movement down there…and low level energy emissions.”

Compton felt a jolt go through his body. Could it be? “I want all that confirmed, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.”

Compton punched at the controls of his workstation, bringing up the images on his personal screen.
My God, how is it possible
, he thought, still unwilling to allow himself to accept what he was seeing.

“All scans confirmed, Admiral. The landing party is definitely down there…at least some of it.”

Compton felt the adrenalin flowing through his system. He hadn’t expected to find anyone alive, but if he had people still down there, he was damned sure going to get them back to the fleet.

“We’re two weeks early, so they’ll still be on short range com only, keeping a low profile. Send a shuttle down to base camp, Commander. Advise Colonel Preston…” He thought, but didn’t say, ‘or his replacement.’ “…that the fleet has arrived. He is to prepare for immediate evac. Tell him to salvage what he can, but he is to start sending his people up immediately. We’ll have to abandon the crops. Time is of the essence.” He looked around the flag bridge, almost as if he felt someone was sneaking up behind him. “I don’t know why there are no enemy ships here, but I’m damned sure that won’t last. We’ve got to get the hell out of here. As quickly as possible.”