Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3) (18 page)

-30-

We’d hoped it wouldn’t be this way when we got here. I’d heard reports, of course, ominous warnings from Star Guard, Admiral Perez and my own aunt.

But the scale of it… We hadn’t been prepared for that.

“Not even the damned Stroj would have done this,” Rumbold said, thumping his fist ineffectively on his console. “Crazy machines!”

“Keep scanning,” I said, “and send out welcoming signals. There might be someone here, hiding.”

Nothing responded to our signals for several long hours. I began to get impatient.

“Commander Durris, do you have the next breach we’re supposed to follow pinpointed?”

“Yes Captain, but it’s not quite what I expected.”

“Why not?”

“It appears to be markedly similarly to one of those artificial bridges. The type that the Stroj can create. It seems to be in a location where a known bridge was previously. I don’t understand it.”

I moved to his side and examined his data. There was no error that I could find. Reluctantly, I agreed with his conclusions.

“Maybe it’s been tampered with,” I suggested, “transformed into a sort of hybrid bridge. It could be hijacked, redirected or damaged.”

“I suppose such things are possible,” Durris said doubtfully. “But in any case, the signature is all wrong for a natural interface between hyperspace and normal space. One way or the other, this is going to be a blue jump.”

“Hmm,” I said, “could it be the Stroj wrecked this system, not the variants? What if they were the ones who came here and blew up the station then left? Perez indicated the variants were destroying systems, but that could have been a cover-up.”

“Admiral Perez told you
what
, Captain?”

Durris was staring at me, and I realized that I’d let slip information of which he had no inkling. He had no idea I’d had a private conversation with Perez before destroying him.

“He was a Stroj agent. You know that, right?”

“Of course sir, the online articles—”

“They don’t tell you everything in those releases. I was there. Before he died, he told me the variants were destroying Earth colonies out here as well as Stroj worlds. That they’re marauding, killing everyone.”

“But why?” Rumbold demanded. “What the hell for? Do they hate all life? We should destroy those things in the hold before they kill us in our beds, Captain!”

I glanced at him. “You might have a point. I might even do it if I didn’t need them so desperately. Remember the odds we’re facing. We need every advantage we have at our disposal.”

Grumbling, Rumbold went back to his station.

“Captain!” Yamada called out. “I’ve got contacts, sir!”

“Where?”

“From the wreckage. They’re—they must be fighters sir. A group of them has launched. I didn’t think there was anything alive in that hulk.”

For the first time since I entered this star system, I dared to hope and permitted myself a smile. “The Connatic must have some fight in her yet. Open a channel in the clear. Let me explain who we are and why we’re here. They’re understandably paranoid.”

She did as I asked, and I identified myself and my ship.

The fighters didn’t respond. Neither did whatever served them as traffic control back on the wrecked station.

Frowning at the data screens, from which flowed a steady output of predictive attack vectors and the like, I gave an order I hadn’t wanted to give.

“Prepare our defenses,” I said. “Come about to an oblique angle—let’s not head right into them.”

Durris looked at me, and he shook his head.

“What is it, Commander?” I asked.

“It just seems like a terrible waste. Must we destroy the last colonists in this system? Why won’t they answer?”

“Yamada, are they receiving our messages?” I demanded.

“I think so, sir,” she said, working her instruments. “They’ve synched, and our packets have been accepted. The channel is open, but they’ve made no attempt to respond.”

“Tell them we’ll have to destroy their fighters if they get within two hundred thousand kilometers.”

“Sir?” Durris said, stepping toward my chair in alarm. “That’s much too close. Well within our safety zone.”

“Yes, but still beyond their practical ranges.”

“The fighters are doing something, sir,” Yamada said after she’d transmitted my warning twice.

I moved quickly to her station. I wanted the latest input, unfiltered.

The news wasn’t good.

“As you can see,” she said, “they’re pumping out crystalline gels ahead of them to diffuse our defensive lasers. They’re building up a large cloud of material to hide behind.”

“Captain?” Durris called.

Reluctantly, I moved to his side.

“I’ve reworked the simulations,” he said. “They’re going to cruise in behind a thin shielding and then scatter, hitting us from multiple sides. At least, that’s what the battle computers say is the most likely case.”

Releasing an unhappy grunt of disappointment, I checked the range again. They were at five hundred thousand kilometers and closing fast.

The numbers were significant. At this range, we could hit them but they couldn’t hit us. Fighters were small and difficult targets, but they had to get in quite close to do damage. There were generally a lot of them, and a capital ship couldn’t afford to let them get in close without losses. The essential fact was we were at our optimal range right now, and I was letting the opportunity to inflict losses slide past us.

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “Focus on a lead fighter. Punch through that shield and take it out.”

“Just one, sir?” Durris complained. “The usual practice—”

“I know. Hit just one of them. Maybe they’ll get the message.”

He didn’t even bother to acknowledge the command, aim, or declare his exact intentions. Apparently, he’d already anticipated an order of this kind, because he simply reached out to his control screen and double-tapped his index finger on the red swarm of incoming fighters.

The main batteries hummed, then buzzed, then sang. We waited a few seconds—then the beams reached them.

“We took out one. Recharging.”

“Hold your fire,” I ordered.

He said nothing, but his jaws were tight with tension.

“Analysis, Yamada? Did we impress them?”

“They’re taking increased defensive action, darting from side to side—but no messages. They’re continuing the attack run.”

The odd thing about space battles is they could appear to be fast or slow, depending on the distance to the target. At great distances, the action was greatly delayed. Often minutes passed between firing and witnessing a strike. On the other hand, when the range was short, things happened with blinding rapidity.

“Unlimber all three main batteries. Fire in a slow cycle, don’t melt anything down. Fire continuously until they’re destroyed or they break off.”

Having given a fateful order, I moved to my seat again, feeling the weight of command. Why did humanity insist on mutual destruction? In many cases, I’d been in conflicts that were easily avoidable.

The current situation was a distinct one, with all things considered, as these people should know better. They had nothing to fear from us. It just didn’t make sense.

“Sir?” Rumbold asked me, “Permission to adjust our course?”

“What for, Rumbold?”

“To maximize the time we have at medium range.”

I knew what he meant. If we turned away from the fighters, they’d take longer to get within range. They wouldn’t be able to shoot back while we kept pecking at them steadily.

“Permission granted.”

The ship veered, exerting lateral force on us all.
Defiant
was equipped with inertial dampeners, but they never operated with one hundred percent effectiveness.

Three minutes passed. During that time, we destroyed two more targets. Durris came to me, smiling.

“We’re in the clear if the situation remains as it is,” he said. “They’ll be down to twenty or so fighters by the time they reach us.”

I nodded, less than overjoyed. It still seemed like a terrible waste.

“Captain…” Yamada said in a concerned tone. “They’re changing their formation.”

Durris rushed back to his tactical table. His smile had vanished.

My mood shifted as well. The enemy was ballooning out from behind their prismatic cloud, abandoning it. They surged forward with shocking speed. Our latest volley of shots went wide, hitting nothing.

“Commander Durris,” I called. “I’ve seen Gi fighters in action before—they don’t fly that fast.”

“I know sir… I know. We’re in close enough for optical recognition.”

A wire diagram of the enemy configuration appeared on the forward screen. It wasn’t the right shape. It was sleek, rather than angular and rounded like a manta ray.

“What are we facing, Commander?” I demanded.

“I don’t know, sir. I’ve never seen this design before.”

“I have,” said a new voice from the back of the deck.

We turned to see Director Vogel. He stepped forward, making a gesture toward me for permission to enter. I nodded.

“Welcome to the deck, Director. What are you talking about?”

“Those are Earth fighters,” he said. “Our
new
fighters.”

I studied him for a moment then turned back to the forward screens. The enemy had formed into four groups now, and these groups were converging on our position. They were still accelerating.

“You’re saying they’re manned by variants?” I asked.

“That’s right, Captain. We’ve found the enemy.”

-31-

The next twenty minutes were intense. We fired a continuous series of volleys, but we connected only six more times. The enemy was almost close enough to return fire, and they still had ninety percent of their force intact.

“Give us the specs,” I ordered Vogel. “Feed everything you know about these fighters into Durris’ computer.”

“I will do so,” he said, “even though I’m under orders not to comply with such a request. This design has been top secret from the beginning—I’m sure you know that, Captain.”

“I do. I’m glad you agree the situation has changed dramatically.”

It was odd to watch these fighters roar toward us on full-burn. They’d been designed by our best engineers. They’d been developed with the specific purpose of destroying the Stroj fleets. Now, ironically, they were after us.

Fortunately, there were less than a hundred of them all told. That was a relatively small number.
Iron Duke
reportedly carried thousands.

“Get those decoys out early, Durris,” I said. “Looking at these specs, I’d guess they can put in one more burst of speed for the final approach.”

“Got it, sir. Pumping out smart-chaff now.”

The ship’s tanks gurgled and thumped. Billions of nano particles were pumped out around us, forming a cloud of microscopic interceptors. They weren’t enough to stop an incoming missile, but they might cause one to detonate early. Against beams, they served to thin the power of particle radiation or lasers lessening their powerful impact.

On the hull, dozens of small guns rose up and began auto-tracking the incoming fighters. If they got in close enough, these point-defense weapons would be our best tools. They’d fill the space around our vessel with low-powered, short range pulses of energy. The small cannons couldn’t damage a large vessel, but they could destroy a missile—or a fighter.

“We’ve gotten sixteen hits so far, Captain,” Durris said. “But they’re now close enough to shoot back.”

“Warn all decks. Prepare for damage control. Place medical on alert for casualties. I want everyone in a vac suit, faceplates down.”

My crew scrambled to obey.

“You don’t really expect them to breach our hull, do you, Captain?” Yamada asked me in concern.

“They’ve surprised us more than once. I’m not going to underestimate them again.”

We didn’t have long to wait after that. The hull began to shudder with small impacts. At first, it was hardly more than what we could expect to feel from the firing of our own cannons—but then it rapidly intensified.

Like a rainstorm that starts with a pattering then grows into a roar, we soon felt as if we were an earthen barrier being eroded by heavy rain.

“Such accuracy…” Durris said in awe. “They’re landing all these shots, from four directions, on an area only a few meters wide.”

“They must be going for a direct hull-breach,” I said. “How long is it until they penetrate, and we start venting?”

“Six minutes sir—I think. They’ll be in close by then. This pass will be half over.”

“Captain?” Rumbold called to me. “Since they aren’t going for the engines, do I have permission to roll us over?”

I thought about it. The usual target of any enemy was the engines, but these variants were going straight for a kill-shot rather than trying to cripple us first. It was either a foolish choice or a chilling prediction of the ultimate outcome.

“Granted, Rumbold, roll us,” I said.

He didn’t wait around. The ship began a sickening roll, and the damaged part of our hull quickly moved out of the enemy view. Unfortunately, the heavy-rain sound never ceased. It was now something like sizzling bacon. It set my teeth on edge to hear it.

“They’re focusing on another spot,” Durris said.

“Durris, pump out more chaff directly over our sore spot.”

The tanks sloshed and groaned. The sound of incoming fire muted somewhat but didn’t stop.

“We’ve got a target-lock confirmed from our point-defense!” Durris said. “Permission to strategically clear the chaff?”

It was a fateful moment. If I signaled our smart-chaff to break holes between us and the fighters, we’d hit more targets, but we’d also leave ourselves more open to counterattacks.

“Do it,” I said. My eyes turned to watch every screen at once, darting from one to the next.

The effect of my command was dramatic. Our point-defense cannons were
smart
, like every other system aboard, so they’d been holding their fire up until this moment. Each gun had computed that it couldn’t get a kill firing through our own defensive curtain. But now that the chaff was drifting away from the ship, they opened up firing through the clear spots.

Hits began to register. Nineteen more enemy fighters were transformed into fireballs within thirty seconds.

A ragged cheer went up from the tactical teams. I didn’t join them. The enemy still had over fifty percent of their force left, and they were getting very close now.

A sudden thought occurred to me. “Durris, plot their individual trajectories.”

He did so without questioning me. Numerous red splines appeared. All of them curved slightly, and all of them intersected our ship at a point in the near future.

I stared at that. It wasn’t normal. The usual approach of fighters was to either make a series of high passes, or to slow down and pound a ship at close range. In either case, slowing down at the end of a run was standard practice.

These fighters weren’t slowing down at all.

“They’re going to spend a half-hour turning around,” Durris said, baffled.

“No, they’re not... They’re planning to ram us. That’s why they’ve been trying to create a weak spot on our hull.”

“Oh… If they can shove just one of their nosecones into our guts…” Durris said. He looked at me then, and I saw the light of fear in his eyes.

We’d made a mistake. We’d assumed we were fighting normal, human opponents. But variants didn’t have much in the way of self-preservation in their circuitry. They only wanted to accomplish their mission any way they could.

“Rumbold!” I boomed. “Get us out of here!”

“Uh—yes, Captain! Hold on!”

Red lights flashed, warning the crew, but I knew it was too late. There would be no time to get to an acceleration couch, or even to strap in. All over the ship, there would be injuries—possibly even deaths.

The first lurch of power sickened me. Then, it got worse. The engines roared and my face began to sag. A staffer, caught off-guard, was thrown to the floor. She rolled away to the back of the chamber, her helmet thumping as she made each full revolution.

“Stop firing the cannons,” I ordered Durris, who was still clinging to his table. “Give full power to the engines.”

He complied, and the thrust increased by another thirty percent. We were all crushed by the centrifugal force.

The computers were unaffected. They continued to calmly depict the external action. Our smart-chaff was left in a cloud of vapor. We were unshielded, but slipping away from the enemy.

They responded with the speed of vipers. Turning and applying their own surge of thrust, they followed us—and they continued to gain.

“They’re right on our tails, Captain!” Rumbold wheezed. “I can’t shake them!”

“They must have a limited fuel supply,” I said through gritted teeth. “Keep up this thrust. Pump more chaff out in a cloud behind us.”

A massive trail of reflective particles began growing in our wake. The strikes from the enemy lasers lessened then faded away.

“We’re pulling away, sir!” Rumbold said, then had a coughing fit that ended with a strangling sound.

I looked around the deck. Several of my people had lost consciousness. Durris was among them. He was still at his station, slumped over at an odd angle in his harness.

“Ease down,” I ordered Rumbold. “Medical, sweep the ship. Get to anyone whose implant is in emergency-mode. Put the command crew at the head of that list.”

The enemy fighters were steadily falling farther behind. They’d exhausted their fuel reserves. They were still firing after us, but they lacked the acceleration to catch us again. They would have to limp back to base and refuel.

Several things were now clear, the most important of which was the suicidal nature of this new foe. I vowed not to underestimate them again.

We came about over the next hour, trailing them as they returned slowly toward the broken husk of what had once been Tranquility Station.

None of them made it home. We mercilessly destroyed every last one of them.