Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3) (21 page)

-36-

Defiant
went into shutdown mode the moment we were through. Durris had programmed the computer to ease-down once we’d crossed the barrier.

In this case, it was a good thing. We were in no condition to control the battle cruiser properly when we first breached. As far as I knew, we were traveling at speeds no ship from Earth had matched in more than a century.

Even more alarming, space seemed
odd
on the far side of this particular breach. It was colorful and gaseous. That didn’t bode well.

“Durris… are you awake, man?”

“I’m on it, Captain,” he said, struggling to his knees.

There was a gash on the side of his head, and blood dripped down onto his uniform now that he’d removed his helmet.

“How did you get injured?”

“I’m not quite sure, sir…”

He looked dazed, so I ordered him to a seat and summoned a corpsman to the command deck.

My attention turned to Yamada, who seemed to be in better condition. “I need a full sensor-sweep and a summary report,” I told her.

“I’m on it.”

Within minutes, during which we continued braking, she had the report.

“This hyperspace isn’t normal,” she said. “In fact, it’s quite small. Sir… from my experience, we’ve only seen this type of space once before.”

I nodded, studying the data. I already knew what she was going to say, I’d only wanted confirmation.

“This is an artificial breach, isn’t it?” I asked.

“I think so. Like the ones we encountered a year ago. As far as we know, only the Stroj are capable of creating a bridge like this one.”

Most—almost all—ER bridges we’d encountered were natural phenomena. Theoretically, they were created between two or more star systems by gravitational warping of local space. Like exoplanets, they were once thought to be rare or that they only existed in theory. In actual practice, we’d found they were commonplace.

This one, however, was different. It had been created purposefully. The Stroj were the only people we’d met capable of building their own bridges between stars of their choosing. Even so, it took a vast amount of energy to do so. Often, a portion of a star’s mass was used up in the process. The resulting bridge was weak and unstable in comparison to a naturally occurring one.

“This bridge seems to fit the profile precisely,” Yamada continued. “No wonder a Stroj imposter knew about it—his people probably built it.”

“You said it’s different,” I prompted “different in what way?”

She shook her head. “It’s gaseous. Not much, not enough to burn our hull with our forward shields up, but it could get thicker. If it turns into dust ahead…”

“Oh, I see. Apply heavier braking!”

Rumbold was back in the game by this time. He lurched to his seat, snorting as if waking from a nap. He leaned forward, eyes rolling over his instruments, and selected a control. He applied his hand to it, giving it a tweak.

We all rocked in our seats as reverse thrust was applied. A few people stumbled and cursed.

“Take it easy, Rumbold,” I said. “We’ve got injuries aboard.

“Sorry Captain… I must have nodded off.”

I laughed and turned back to Yamada.

“Are you watching for Okto?” I asked her.

“Yes… so far she hasn’t arrived.”’

“She should have by now. According to my calculations, she should have hit the breach and joined us in this bridge about two minutes ago.”

“The fact that she hasn’t indicates she must have hit her brakes as well,” Yamada said.

“Either that, or she steered clear of the breach entirely. Maybe she only wanted to chase us out of the Beta Cygnus system.”

Yamada shook her head. “That isn’t what I would expect. I’ve studied Beta behavioral profiles since they were first rediscovered.”

I stared at her for a moment. It felt so odd that I could remember Zye, and she couldn’t. It had created a gap between us, a gulf I had trouble reaching across.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” she asked.

I touched my forehead. “That was a rough breach.”

“Yeah, I almost lost consciousness. Do you want to take a break? I could—”

“No,” I said, “I’m fine, thank you. Keep watching for the Beta ships.”

Behind Okto were several others. They might be catching up to her by now if she had slowed down hard enough to let them.

Time ticked by. Four minutes passed.

I began to relax. Perhaps the threat had eased. Okto and her people were tenacious, but not to the point of insanity. If they knew this was an artificial breach—and I had no doubt they did know the truth—then they had to know it was dangerous. Perhaps they’d decided to let us go and return to the task of defending their homeworld.

One more minute passed, and during that time, I managed to convince myself that we’d escaped the Betas. It was a great relief. The odds of them coming through now were remote. The enemy ships would have had to decelerate so hard it would have killed a normal human.

At that precise instant, the moment at which I calculated we were in the clear, the Beta ships appeared.

“Captain,” Yamada said, “I’ve got three contacts.”

“Where?” I demanded.

“Behind us. At the breach. They all just appeared together.”

I froze for a moment in disbelief. “Okto?”

“It has to be her, sir.”

Nodding slowly, numbly, I had Yamada display the tactical situation on the forward screen. Three Beta battle cruisers, each a match for
Defiant
, had appeared at the breach. They were going relatively slowly, but I had no doubt they would increase speed once they spotted us in this gassy chunk of space-time.

“They waited to get grouped-up before they came through,” Rumbold said. “Didn’t we ambush Okto the last time she followed us into a breach?”

“I believe we did,” I said.

“I bet she didn’t want to suffer a repeat performance, Captain. She waited for her friends before daring to enter here.”

His analysis was logical, but unwelcome.

“Sir!” Yamada said, “Okto is hailing us.”

“On screen.”

We waited for a few seconds until a scratchy image appeared. Talking ship to ship in hyperspace was possible, but it always seemed to be difficult. The radio signals had a difficult time handshaking and maintaining a coherent channel.

Okto glared at us. “We shall destroy you, Sparhawk. Don’t run. You’ve already embarrassed Earth enough.”

“Suicide impresses no one, Okto,” I said. “Fortunately, your ships are slow. We’ve improved upon
Defiant
, rebuilding her engines and her instrumentation.”

What I was saying had some basis in fact, but that didn’t make my crew any happier. They were staring at me in slack-jawed surprise.

“Rumbold, all-ahead full. Let’s head for the exit.”

“But…” I knew he wanted to say we had no idea yet where that was, but he kept his mouth shut after I gave him a hard glance. “All-ahead full, Captain.”

The deck lurched under my feet again, and we began accelerating. All this stopping and starting was enough to make a man nauseous, but such was the life of every spacer in Star Guard.

“You flee again!” raged Okto. “You are without honor! You’re a cur who dodges the boot and runs away not even daring to stand and snap at the heels of your betters!”

Her words were aggravating, but I contained my response.

“Not so, Captain,” I said. “We’re doing battle even now—but on our terms.”

I turned to Durris, who was back at his post looking hunched.

“Commander Durris, release three of our largest missiles. Maximum yield. Target one of the enemy vessels with each bird.”

“But Captain—”

“Do it now. This isn’t the time to be merciful.”

He stared at me for a half-second with his mouth open, but then turned back to his boards and fired one missile at each of the pursuing ships.

“Birds away, Captain,” he said in a dull voice.

“Excellent,” I said, turning back to the blue, glowing pickups and Okto’s angry face.

She’d been watching us with an expression of alarm and irritation.

“My apologies Captain Okto,” I said. “Our missiles may prove too much for your battle cruisers. In that case, I promise to notify Beta command of the loss the next time I visit your system. Please remember: you gave me no choice.”

Her mouth transformed into a confused snarl, but I signaled Yamada to cut the channel. It closed instantly.

Rumbold let out a guffaw of laughter the moment the woman’s face was gone. Durris was less pleased.

“Sir, I hope you realize those missiles I just fired were nothing but standard-issue ordnance.”

“He knows that, you stiff!” Rumbold boomed. “He’s bluffing them!”

Durris turned back to me in surprise. “I thought you didn’t like to lie, Captain.”

“I didn’t lie,” I said. “I misled. There’s a big difference.”

Rumbold snorted and laughed aloud again.

“Captain,” Yamada said, “they’re taking evasive action. They seem to have believed you. How did you know?”

“I’d heard somewhere that Betas are easy to bluff.”

Yamada and Durris tossed me confused glances. As they couldn’t recall Zye’s existence, they didn’t know how I’d come to this conclusion.

Durris stepped up to my chair, dabbing at oozing adhesives over his cheekbone.

“What is the purpose of enraging them?” he asked. “Idle fun?”

“Hardly,” I said.

“Then why?”

I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “We’re outrunning them right now. They should turn back, but they can’t now that I’ve fired on them. That would stain their honor.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “So you
want
them to chase us? To follow us through star system after star system in a blind rage?”

“Yes,” I said, “do you think they would have come along willingly if I’d asked?”

“No.”

“There you have it. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“One more thing, Captain.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve noticed—we’ve all been noticing—that you have a level of knowledge concerning Beta behavior that none of us can fathom. Where did this intel come from?”

I stared at him thoughtfully. “There’s a Beta prisoner,” I said, “a live one, in the brig under CENTCOM.”

He looked startled. “Is that information classified?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But no one told me that it was. Perhaps they overlooked the procedural details in the messy aftermath of the attack.”

“A Beta prisoner on Earth…” he mused, “and you’ve had personal contact with this… person?”

“That’s right.”

“That explains a lot. Thanks, Captain.” He walked away, nodding to himself.

The rest of the crew eyed me with increased respect. I felt bad I couldn’t tell them more, but if I did, they’d question my sanity. That wouldn’t be good for morale or our odds of survival.

-37-

The next hour or so was tense, but things eased off as we continued to put distance between our stern and the Beta vessels.

The enemy crews weren’t able to capitalize on their ability to take more G-forces in this environment. Just as we’d done, they’d detected the gas and suspected there might be more substantial particulate matter in this pocket of hyperspace. If that was true, flying too fast could overwhelm their shields and destroy their ships.

Since
Defiant
had been moving faster than they were when we’d entered hyperspace, we kept gaining slightly as we all accelerated to a maximal safe speed. At that point, we coasted ahead of them.

The only problem with my strategy was finding a way out. If we ran out of hyperspace before we found the exit, we would be in trouble. We’d either have to turn and fight, or we’d ram into the theoretical wall of this universe. Either way, we’d be destroyed.

The Beta ships followed doggedly for sixteen more hours before our missiles reached them. I’d ordered Durris to program them to go fairly slowly so as to maximize the suspense.

I could only imagine the worry my three missiles were causing the Betas. Normal warfare practice required an overwhelming barrage to be applied to a single ship in order to ensure a crippling blow. The fact I’d sent only one missile each against all three of their ships had to be giving them fits. Betas weren’t imaginative, and they didn’t like unknowns.

Accordingly, they began firing a disproportionate amount of countermeasures, anti-missiles and point-defense turrets as our missiles closed on their position. In very short order, all three of our missiles were destroyed.

“Fire three more,” I ordered. “Set them for maximal velocity this time.”

Rumbold boggled at me. “Still trying to make them duck, Captain?”

I nodded.

He went off into another gale of laughter.

“They won’t fall for the same trick twice, surely…?” Yamada asked.

“Watch them,” I said. “They’re suspicious people. They’ll make up a reason for our actions if none is evident.”

“Yes…” Durris said, beginning to catch on. “If I was worried about an enemy behaving like this, I might impute all kinds of evil into these actions.”

“Such as?” I asked, honestly curious.

“I’d assume the first barrage had been devised to reveal our defenses. That they were sent at low velocities to tease out everything we had. Now, three more fast missiles on the way…? They could only be smarter weapons. Missiles made much more dangerous because we’d shown them all our tricks. That’s what would keep me awake at night.”

I smiled and said, “Good. If we can’t beat them, at least we can torment them.”

Rumbold frowned and squirmed in his seat. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn’t quite feel it was his place to do so. “Permission to speak freely sir?”

“Granted helmsman,” I said, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Well, Captain,” he said, “I’m not sure why we’re tweaking their noses this much. It’s a hoot, certainly, but what purpose does it serve?”

“It will keep them flying after us for one thing.”

All my command officers glanced at me as if I was insane. I smiled back.

“You
want
them to keep coming?” Rumbold asked.

“Yes. I’ve been worried they’d turn back. It’s reckless of them to continue this pursuit, don’t you think? They’re leaving their home world undefended behind them. For what purpose? Spite?”

“But why, Captain? Why do you want them to chase us to the ends of the universe?”

“Because I believe we’re going to run into our real enemy sooner or later. When that moment comes, I’m hoping reason will dawn for the Betas. They may hate us, but in truth, we’ve done them no real harm. If I can talk them into joining us in battle against someone they truly hate…”

“Ah,” Durris said. He’d been listening in. “I understand, but it does seem like a risky strategy.”

“Risky?” asked Rumbold, turning away and shaking his head. “It’s more than that.”

I sighed. “Yes, there is a hint of desperation in this move, but we’re in a very serious situation.
Iron Duke
and her escorts won’t show anything but cold ruthlessness toward us and the Betas alike.

“You’re the captain,” Rumbold said resignedly.

Durris appeared some minutes later at my side.

“XO?” I asked. “Have you computed a way out of this patch of space yet?”

“Not yet, Captain.”

“Well then, have our missiles struck the enemy ships?”

“Not for another hour—I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

I’d suspected as much, but I let him twist in the wind a moment longer. “All right, then, by all means, speak.”

“Uh… could we talk in private, Captain?”

I granted his request, and we headed down to the officers’ cantina. I felt I could use a few minutes break before anything else unexpected happened.

When we were alone, Durris leaned over the small, circular table that was equipped with magnetic cup holders to clamp our drinks down.

“Sir, have you gone mad?” he asked.

“That’s a rude opener, Commander.”

“I know, Captain. I know, and I apologize. But we seem to have forgotten our original orders. We’re supposed to be determining where this string of breach-points leads to and locating the renegade fleet along the way if possible. We’re not supposed to be causing interstellar incidents with neutral powers.”

Toying with my mug, I considered his words. “The situation is more complex than you may realize,” I said.

“Do you think the variants won’t stop after they destroy all the colonists?” he asked.

“Do they have to?” I asked, suddenly intense. “Is Earth all that matters in your view? If so, I reject your ethics. We are Star Guard. We are sworn to protect humanity. All of humanity.”

I was referring, of course, to our original oath of office. Every Star Guard officer declared himself the defender of our entire species upon receiving his commission.

“You’re talking about the Guardsman’s Oath?” Durris asked, incredulous. “It’s an anachronism.”

“Really? A few years ago, before we reconnected with our colonies, I might have agreed with you. But not today. I’m now of the opinion the oath represents wisdom from the past. I think our predecessors could foretell the future. They knew this day might come. That Earth might someday be reunited with her children.”

He squinted at me for a time. “Earth has found her colonies again, that’s true. But I must say your position is even more radical than I’d thought. We’re not just following our orders in an independent manner, are we?”

“We’re following our oath of office,” I said carefully.

“Do you intend to involve Earth in a civil war out here among the stars?”

“Hardly. We created the variants. We gave them ships. We sent them out here to destroy indiscriminately.”

“Ah…” he said, as if suddenly understanding. “This is about the Connatic, isn’t it? I know you had a fling with her, Captain. I understand if your emotions—”

I stood up suddenly. Durris was getting under my skin.

“Don’t patronize me on my own ship XO,” I warned.

I wanted to tell him everything—all about Zye, who he’d forgotten, the secret Council in their underground chambers, the rewriting of history through our implants… But I was at a loss as to how to get him to believe me. So I just stared at him sourly for a few seconds.

Then, I had an idea. “Come with me, Commander.”

He followed numbly, looking concerned. I led him to the lab where Director Vogel and Dr. McKay were operating on another of the variants. We watched quietly for a time before they closed up the creature’s flesh and artificial carapace.

Durris looked ill, but I didn’t have time for such things.

“Director Vogel, we have to take Commander Durris into our confidence. In fact, I want his implant altered the way ours have been.”

Durris and Vogel both looked at me in alarm.

“How did you know…?” Vogel asked, but then he shook his head. “I guess it’s obvious. Yes, I altered my own implant the way you did with yours. My entire team has been protected, too.”

“What are you people talking about?” Durris asked. His hand strayed to the back of his neck in a nervous, almost defensive gesture.

“Could you please explain?” I asked Vogel.

He did so gladly. Inside, he had the heart of a professor. He led Durris through recent occurrences that had been altered by the Council, and even demonstrated by playing vid files of events that everyone on Earth remembered differently.

“That’s not how it happened!” Durris said, incredulous. “I saw the reports with my own eyes!”

“No, you didn’t,” I said, jumping into the conversation. “I’ve figured that part out. The imagery you recall was never broadcast. You won’t find vid files of these events—such as the attack by a pack of Stroj on CENTCOM recently—anywhere on the net. Curiously, they’re rarely searched for, and when they are, they can’t be found.”

“Exactly,” Vogel said, “the mind is an amazing thing. It’s almost eager to fill in lost memories with false ones. What you know about the attack on CENTCOM is a falsehood. Those ideas were planted by web stories you read, or which you were told about by others who read them. Excuses for the lack of actual video usually amount to declaring them all matters of World Security.”

“Usually? Are you saying this sort of thing happens often?”

“Not every day,” I said, “I’d say it only happens a few times a year, as needed. When events must be covered up, or people need to be forgotten, they edit our reality.”

“But how?” he demanded.

“Through your morning updates. While you sleep, new memories are installed. Unwanted ones are removed.”

“But…” he said, staring at the evidence Vogel had laid out for him, carefully designed as it was to convince anyone who was a thinking person. I could tell he didn’t
want
to believe it. “Who would do such a thing?”

“People who want to control us. People who believe they know best how to run the world—who should live and who should die.”

He looked at me with haunted eyes.

“What are we going to do about this, Captain?” he asked.

His voice was that of a man lost in the woods, but that’s exactly where I wanted him. I hadn’t been sure Durris could accept this harsh reality. Many people would rather believe a comfortable lie.

It was one of his enduring traits, however, that he liked to know the real truth almost as much as I did.