Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (45 page)

“I repeat, Admiral Compton…can you read me? Please respond. This is Captain Harmon, aboard the First Imperium fleet entering from the X46 warp gate.”

Compton sat, shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t accept it…it had to be a trick.

But why would they bother? They don’t need any tricks…they’ve got us checkmated. We’re already dead.

“I know this is difficult to believe, sir, but it is true. My shuttle was attacked, and I was taken prisoner. I am here to assist. Please respond.”

Compton turned toward Cortez. “The fleet will cut all acceleration, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” There was doubt in Cortez’ voice. It was clear he didn’t believe a word of what they were hearing.

Compton didn’t believe it either…but there was nothing to lose in playing along.
That’s one of the advantages of being as good as dead already…nothing to lose
.

“Max…” He felt strange just saying the name. He still couldn’t accept that this was his friend. It had to be some kind of First Imperium deception, and playing along made him feel sick to his stomach. “This is Admiral Compton. I’m sure you can guess there are some people in the fleet a little doubtful you are who you claim to be.”

“Admiral, I understand…but it is me.” The voice became agitated, tense. “Sir, there is no time. If we’re going to save the fleet…”

“Can you explain how Max Harmon would be on a First Imperium ship…indeed, with a huge First Imperium fleet?”

“It is complicated, Admiral.” The voice paused…then it said, “Do you remember that night, not long after we were trapped behind the barrier? We talked for hours about those we left behind. You told me about Elizabeth, how you really felt about her.”

Compton was silent, his face pale. No one else could have known about that…

“Or when you told me about the first time you met my mother? Back at the beginning of the Third Frontier War, when she was first officer of
Newcastle
?”

“Max,” Compton said, his voice choked with emotion. “Is it really you? How?”

“It is me, sir. You have to trust me now. The ships you are approaching will destroy you. Those with me will not. And the fleet at X50 will not either. The fleet can escape through the X50 gate.”

“Max, the ships at X50 attacked our fighters. They are as hostile as any First Imperium force we have encountered.” There was renewed suspicion in Compton’s voice, and he stared down at his screen. Hurley’s report was still displayed…including the list of the four ships that had been destroyed.

“Sir,” Cortez interrupted, “we’re getting massive energy readings from the fleet at the X46 gate. Some kind of high-powered communication…directed at the X50 force.”

“Admiral, the X50 forces will no longer attack any vessel of the fleet.” It was Harmon again. Or whatever was impersonating him.

“What was that our scanners just picked up, Max?” Compton spoke firmly. He wanted to believe Harmon…but he just didn’t know…

“That communication ordered the ships to treat the fleet vessels as First Imperium craft…and not to attack them under any circumstances.”

Compton took a deep breath and shook his head. No, it was all too much. Perhaps the First Imperium had captured Harmon from his damaged shuttle…interrogated him…

“Admiral Compton!” Hieronymus Cutter came rushing out of the lift and onto the flag bridge. “Admiral…may I speak with Captain Harmon?” he asked, out of breath.

“Hieronymus, what do…”

“Please, Admiral. Trust me.”

Compton paused for a second. Then he just nodded.

Cutter leaned down over the com unit. “Captain Compton? This is Dr. Cutter.”

“Yes, Hieronymus…I read you.”

“You were captured by the First Imperium?”

“Yes, they shot down my shuttle…but apparently, they recovered it before it crashed or burned up. I honestly don’t know the details. I was unconscious…I woke up hours later.”

“They examined you?” Cutter’s voice was rising in pitch as he continued.

“Yes. Painfully.”

“And after that they treated you differently…with care. Right?”

“Yes, Doctor. How do you know that?”

Cutter didn’t answer. He turned to look at Compton. “Admiral, you must listen to Captain Harmon. You must do exactly what he says.”

Compton’s face was filled with doubt, with suspicion. “Hieronymus, I underst…”

“Admiral,” the scientist interrupted. “You have to believe me. That
is
Captain Harmon…and you must do as he asks.”

“How can you know that, Hieronymus?” Compton returned the scientist’s gaze. “I value your judgment, but for this I need more. I need to understand.”

“I know because of what happened to me on the planet, Admiral. Because the living beings of the First Imperium came to Earth ages ago…and they modified man’s distant ancestors, altered their genetics, made us into copies of them. Because we are their successors…almost their children. And the Imperium is our inheritance.”

Compton had a stunned look on his face. Anyone else, he would have sent down to sickbay for a full psychological analysis. But this was the smartest human being he’d ever known standing in front of him…and he knew something had happened to Cutter on the planet…something he’d not yet shared with anyone in any detail.

The flag bridge was quiet. Cutter’s outburst had been so utterly outrageous…almost too crazy to be invented. And every man and woman present knew and respected the fleet’s top scientist. But what he had said meant all they knew of the hated enemy was wrong. And it didn’t even begin to explain why First Imperium forces had been killing their people for more than five years now.

“Please, sir,” Cutter said. “I know what I am talking about…”

Compton sat, silent, unmoving. He knew he had to make a decision. If he was going to get away from the X49 force, it had to be now. Indeed, it might even be too late. His mind was filled with questions…and doubts. But his people were dead already…and he had nothing to lose by doing as Harmon and Cutter asked.

“Very well, Hieronymus.” He turned toward the com. “Max…if you are Max…I will do as you ask.” He paused, just for a few seconds. “Commander Cortez…the fleet will set a course for the X50 warp gate.”

“Yes, sir,” came Cortez’ nervous reply.

Compton stared at Cutter. “I hope you know what you’re taking about, Hieronymus.” Then: “You better sit at one of the spare workstations and strap in. Because if we’re going to get to the X50 gate ahead of this X49 force, we’re going to have to do it at 8g.”

*    *    *

Compton tapped a button on his chair’s armrest, and he felt a slight pinch as the med unit gave him an injection. It was an analgesic to counter the soreness the last two hours at 8g had caused, but also a stimulant to keep him focused. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t a time for him to be half out of it with pain and fatigue.

The crushing pressure was really getting to all of his people, but he didn’t dare let up. He’d paused briefly to pick up Hurley’s fighters, but then he’d ordered the thrust back to 6g. The enemy had sent a force in pursuit of them…the Gremlins of the first line and a group of Gargoyles behind, and he had no intention of letting them catch his people…and force him to fight a battle here. No…against all odds, they seemed to have an escape route, or at least the hope of one, and he was determined not to let the chance slip away.

But now his attention was diverted from the flight of his ships, his eyes glued to his screen. He saw what was happening in the system all around
Midway
, but he still couldn’t quite comprehend it all.

The ships with Harmon had roared insystem at full thrust, blasting away at 70g…directly toward the forces that had come from X49. All save a small flotilla, a cluster of Leviathans, which were following the human fleet at 6g.

Max must be on one of those ships
. Compton knew Harmon couldn’t be on any of the vessels in the main force. A few seconds of 70g acceleration would have crushed the officer.

The ships from X46 moved directly toward the other First Imperium vessels, the fleets that had been following Compton’s people for weeks…and the X50 force also advanced, passing right by
Midway
and the other human ships. Compton had ordered his vessels to full alert, but he’d also promised to personally space anyone who fired unless they were fired upon. He had no idea what was happening, but he had no intention of picking any fights. Not now.

The First Imperium ships simply slipped by his. They didn’t attack, they didn’t pause or change their headings…they simply ignored the fleet and continued on their heading. Then he watched in stunned amazement as the X50 ships engaged the pursuit force as soon as they entered range.

That fight was nearly over. The forces that had been pursuing the fleet were almost gone, blown to atoms under the withering fire of the stronger X50 force. Compton had done as Harmon had asked, and he’d seen the First Imperium vessels pass right by his own without the slightest hostile action. And now he watched, mesmerized as two fleets of the First Imperium, identical in ship types and weaponry, indeed, in every aspect he could identify, savaged each other in a ruthless struggle.

The X50 fleet was larger than the vanguard it faced, and its missile barrage was stronger. Dozens of its antimatter warheads penetrated the opposing defenses. A smaller number of missiles got through the X50 force’s defenses, but some did, and like their counterparts they erupted with the multi-gigaton fury of matter-antimatter annihilation. Ships were blasted with huge amounts of radiation, and those close enough to the explosions were exposed to temperatures reaching millions of degrees, and they were vaporized in an instant.

The vanguard was gutted by the deadly barrage, more than two thirds of its vessels destroyed, but it was no surprise to Compton when the vastly outnumbered force continued to move against the X50 ships. First Imperium forces didn’t suffer from morale failure, they didn’t retreat. They just fought to the death.

Compton was still in shock, not entirely understanding what he was watching. He tried to imagine the communications between the First Imperium ships, the confusion of the intelligences running the vessels now being attacked by their own kind. He looked over at Cutter, who was sitting quietly at one of the bridge’s workstations. Was it possible? Was there a genetic connection between those of the First Imperium and humanity? It seemed unlikely, almost like a fairy tale of some sort. But the First Imperium ruins suggested the beings who had once lived there had been not unlike men. The warbots were all vaguely humanoid in design, differing only in practical ways, like increased size and extra limbs. Perhaps…

“Admiral, we’re getting scanning data in. The main fleets are engaging.” It was Cortez’ voice. The tactical officer sounded distracted himself. Compton had no doubt all his people were thinking about what they had seen and heard…and wondering what it all meant.

Compton looked up at the main display. There were hundreds of icons, facing each other in two massive groups. And between, what appeared to be huge white clouds, the best representation the screen could present of tens of thousands of missiles blasting from each force.

“Commander, have the AI update those icons. Let’s see if we can get each force its own color.” All the icons were red, the color the Alliance computers assigned to First Imperium ships.

Cortez punched at his controls and, a few seconds later, the X46 and X50 forces—the “good guys,” in Compton’s new analysis—turned dark green. He watched as the massive fleets moved steadily toward each other, following their missile barrages directly at their adversaries. There was no finesse, no complex tactics…they were simply moving right at each other, and into a brutal toe to toe fight that Compton could only imagine.

“Time to X50 warp gate?” he asked, as much to have something to say as anything, to break the uncomfortable silence on the flag bridge.

“We should commence deceleration in six minutes, sir…if you wish to adhere to the original nav plan. That should bring us to the gate in approximately three hours.”

“Yes, Commander. Advise all ships we will be decelerating on schedule.” He paused. “And order all vessels to run full testing on all systems in the interim.” He could almost feel the collective sigh on the bridge…and he knew it would be repeated throughout the fleet. Spacers hated running tests under the best of circumstances…in a ship exerting 6g of thrust it would be pure misery. But Compton wanted his people occupied, not sitting around wondering what the hell had happened, and what would happen next. No, better they had something to focus on, familiar work that would keep them busy. Let them curse his name in the dark corridors of their ships for being a martinet. All he cared about was getting them out of here.

*    *    *

In the depths of interstellar space, a battle raged, a struggle of a scale not seen in the galaxy for millennia. Two vast fleets, almost identical to each other, squared off in a fight to the end.

Communiqués lanced out from one fleet, urgently demanding to know why the other was opposing it. The forces were the same…their ships, weapons, even the AIs that ran each vessel were identical. But now they faced off against each other, their massive weapons pouring out destruction unimagined.

Antimatter explosions filled billions of cubic kilometers with deadly radiation, and x-ray laser batteries pumped out enormous energies, the deadly lances of light ripping into ships’ hulls, tearing them apart. Warships died, a few at first, but soon in their hundreds. Many exploded into short-lived miniature suns, as their antimatter containment systems failed. Others were beaten into battered, hulks, drifting dead in space.

One fleet issued directive after directive, seeking to take control of the hostile force, to activate failsafe mechanisms long ago installed in their commanding intelligences. But it was to no avail. The old safety routines had no effect, commands from the highest level were ignored. And the rebelling fleet fought with the same relentless ferocity as the one still in the Regent’s command.