The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3) (26 page)

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A little over seventy-three light-years away in the Karachi System—a signatory to the Commonwealth Treaty—Commander Kris Guderian studied
Osprey’s
sensors from her spot on the bridge.

She might not have noticed a strange phenomenon but for two factors. One, as a Patrol officer, she was trained to note anomalies no matter how minute. The present incongruity was tiny. But Kris was wound tight, had been ever since witnessing the destruction of Al Salam in the New Arabia System. That was the second reason. The death of the Wahhabi Caliphate Home Fleet had shaken her to the core.

Kris fiddled with the sensor controls, scanning the Karachi System, observing everything she could. She had written detailed reports about her journey, working particularly hard on the conclusions, as that’s what most of the higher commanders read.

Too much of Kris’s mind wrestled with a discovery she’d found during the frigate’s breakneck race to Earth. Many Star Watch officers didn’t believe her report about the doomsday machine. Oh, they filed it in the proper locations, but their mannerisms told Kris all she needed to know. The officers thought she’d been out in the Beyond too long. She kept telling herself it didn’t bother her, which was a lie. Yes, the truth was going to come out soon enough about the doomsday machine as it destroyed Commonwealth planets. But how could any responsible officer shrug about something like that? To that end, Kris pushed
Osprey
as hard as the frigate could go. She needed to get back to High Command on Earth to warn them. Star Watch had to come up with a solution against the planet-killer, and that could take time.

How do you defeat a neutroium-hulled monster?
Kris had been thinking about it day and night. It was driving her batty. Lieutenant Artemis was sick of discussing the subject with her. The rest of the crew had turned fatalistic and dispirited. Her people repeatedly watched the video of the planetary destruction of Al Salam.

Osprey
presently dashed for the system’s third and loneliest Laumer-Point. Kris had refueled once already during the trip. The frigate decelerated and accelerated at combat levels. The constantly heavy Gs and jumps had worn down everyone. There had been more arguments lately. One fight had been so bitter that four crewmembers had come to blows. That almost never happened aboard a Patrol vessel, certainly not on the
Osprey
.

At the moment, the main sensor scanned Karachi 7. It was a gas giant, a monster three times Jupiter’s mass. A burst of hard radiation spewed like a geyser up from the planet at uneven intervals. Kris witnessed a big gusher that reached farther into space than normal.

To the commander’s amazement, some of the radiation hit blockage. Kris found that odd. Her sensors indicated that nothing was there to block radiation. She ran through a computer analysis. The blockage actually formed a distinct shape.

The commander tapped her board, trying to get a sense of the shape. The hard radiation showed…a cloaked vessel, the radiation outlined a hidden spaceship.

Kris rechecked the sensors. While she did, the blockage abruptly stopped as the geyser of planetary radiation weakened and then quit.

Working with feverish haste, Kris tried an infrared scan, but couldn’t spot a thing. The cloaking was good.
If that really was a hidden spaceship I saw
…

Kris switched the infrared scan and searched for magnetic anomalies. Ah-ha! There was a spike out there. It showed—

The commander bent forward sharply. The magnetic spike disappeared, as if someone had just figured out what she was doing and practiced countermeasures.

Kris’s heart rate accelerated. Who had a cloaked ship out there? Maybe she should figure out what kind of vessel was hiding there first.

Right. Given the scanty data, a mere outline, Kris ran an analysis. Seven seconds later, she stared at the readings. The computer gave a seventy-six percent probability that the craft belonged to the New Men. She’d seen a star cruiser.

The commander sat back, stunned.
Could that be the same star cruiser I saw in the New Arabia System just before we jumped?

If so, did that mean the enemy vessel had been tracking them? Why else would a cloaked star cruiser be in the Karachi System? The reason seemed clear to her. The New Men didn’t want
Osprey
getting back to Earth with the news of the planet-killer.

Kris hurried to the piloting station and began immediate evasive maneuvers. As she did, the commander put the ship on red alert.

Five minutes later, the control room door slid open. Lieutenant Artemis hurried in, still buttoning her uniform.

Kris vacated the piloting chair, going back to sensors.

“Is the star cruiser coming after us?” Artemis asked.

“I can’t tell,” the commander answered. “The vessel is cloaked.”

“Star Watch’s cloaked ships give themselves away if they try to move at speed,” Artemis said.

“I understand,” Kris said. “But this is a New Men vessel. Undoubtedly, it’s better at what it does.”

Artemis said no more on the subject. Despite the hard acceleration to get farther away from Karachi 7 and the cloaked star cruiser, the frigate jinked in one direction and then another. The excess Gs would be straining the crew. Soon, the violent maneuvers were going to stress the little ship.

A Star Watch station orbiting Karachi 7 beamed a message, asking what was wrong. The station was over one million kilometers from the gas giant and thus well out of the star cruiser’s present range.

Kris had already sent them the data about a cloaked vessel. Were the station personnel too dense to understand what that meant or did they not believe her?

“I repeat,” Kris said, “I have spotted a cloaked, enemy star cruiser at ten-sixteen-eight on your Vaster scale. It was right beside the gas giant.”

“We checked the location,” the station comm-officer said. “There’s nothing out there.”

“Did you read my data?”

“Yes. The blockage you state as your evidence is a routine occurrence, Commander. You’re spooking at ghosts. I suggest you relax. This is a safe star system, far from the action of ‘C’ Quadrant.”

“Keep checking for a cloaked vessel,” Kris said, stung by the comm-officer’s rebuke. “Try magnetic sweeps. That worked for me a few minutes ago.”

There was a pause in communications. Likely, the comm-officer checked with her superior officer. “Thank you, Commander, we will continue to do checks on a routine schedule.”

“Idiots,” Artemis muttered. “Don’t they believe you?”

Kris kept her opinion to herself even after signing off. There had always been a bit of a gap between Patrol officers and regular line personnel, especially those on station duty.

Kris kept scanning Karachi 7, trying to find the cloaked vessel. She knew what she’d seen. No one was going to convince her differently.

Time passed as the frigate headed for the Laumer-Point.

“Commander,” Artemis said fifteen minutes later, with fear in her voice. “You’d better look at this.”

Kris tore her tired gaze from the sensor board to look up at the main screen.

“Magnetic readings out there just spiked,” Artemis said.

Kris frowned. “Put the readings on the screen.”

Artemis complied.

Kris studied the numbers. That didn’t match what she’d seen near Karachi 7. How had the star cruiser leapt ahead of them, and so far? It made no sense whatsoever. That was over half a million kilometers away from the ship, given their distance from Karachi 7—

“Commander, the spike is increasing.”

The number on the screen flickered to greater and greater length. Maybe that wasn’t the cloaked vessel. But what could make magnetic readings like that?

Abruptly, Kris twisted back to her sensor board. She tapped fast, scanning the area. The magnetic readings grew exponentially. Then, they burst forth even faster. Before her eyes, an ion storm simply appeared out of nowhere.

Icy fear gripped Kris’s heart. “I want full deceleration!”

“What?” Artemis asked.

“Now! Give me full deceleration.” Kris opened frigate-wide channels and told everyone to strap in. When she looked up, Artemis still hadn’t reacted. “This is an emergency, Lieutenant. I want full stop, full stop. I want
Osprey
dead in space.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Artemis said weakly.

“Don’t you understand?” Kris shouted. “The doomsday machine is coming through. Do you think we can outrun it or go around? No! It will block our path to the Laumer-Point. We have one chance, and I’m going to take it. Full stop, Lieutenant. That is an order.”

“Yes, Commander,” Artemis said, her fingers tapping fast.

Osprey
rotated so the main engines aimed in the ship’s direction of travel. Then, Artemis tapped her board once more. Full thrust roared from the engine ports. It pushed Kris against her chair as the G forces slammed home.

The commander kept her eyes glued to the sensors nonetheless. As the small Patrol frigate decelerated, a vast, planetary-sized magnetic storm swirled into existence with astonishing speed. Soon, long, recognizable, purple bolts sizzled from the storm.

Kris recorded the spatial-temporal phenomenon, wondering if she would ever get to share this with anyone.

Artemis moaned with dread.

Kris felt sick as she saw it. She’d been hoping that she had been wrong about this. The doomsday machine, with its signature neutroium hull, came through a dark portal inside the magnetic storm. What form of transfer was that? Why did it cause the massive ion storm?

“We have to get out of here,” Artemis declared.

“No,” Kris said. “Can’t you see? Don’t you understand? The planet-killer is blocking our route to the Laumer-Point. I doubt we can get past it. Remember what it did to the Wahhabi warships?”

“So we just stop out here in front of it?” Artemis asked.

“If we can stop fast enough I think we might have a chance,” Kris said. It was a long-shot, and she had no idea if it would work or not.

Kris made some quick calculations. Did the magnetic storm transfer cause Jump Lag on the doomsday machine? She was betting it did. But
Osprey
still wasn’t going to stop fast enough.

“We need more thrust,” Kris said.

Artemis didn’t argue this time. She tapped the piloting board.

Even greater G forces slammed against the commander.
Osprey
began to tremble due to the strain. Kris struggled to remain alert, as the blood pounded inside her skull. Her arms felt glued to the rests of her chair.

The minutes ticked away in growing agony.

Soon, Kris’s head felt too heavy and her eyeballs hurt. Even so, she studied the massive ship blocking the way to the Laumer-Point. She spied the giant orifice that contained the planet-killing ray. With the beam, the doomsday machine had annihilated the majority of the Wahhabi Home Fleet. What chance did a small Patrol frigate have against it?

The doomsday machine was so ponderous, so huge. Who had built it? Why make such a thing?

“Has it come here to destroy everything in the Karachi System?” Kris asked quietly.

“Damn them,” Artemis said.

The ion storm swirled into the dark opening. It began disappearing, although that took longer than it had to come into existence.

We’re in a race
, Kris thought.
If this will even work.

“Give our declaration a final surge,” Kris said.

Artemis struggled to tap the board, but she made it. The engines whined, and the deck plates trembled.

Kris’s eyesight dimmed due to the Gs. Then, it happened. The small frigate was seconds away from coming to a full stop in space.

“Get ready,” Kris shouted. “Now, do it now. Cut the engine, and then cut all power everywhere. Go to silent running.”

Artemis tapped the board, and the horrible whine cut out. She continued to tap and the lights dimmed. All over the small frigate, heating, air-cycling and other systems shut down. The fusion engine went offline.
Osprey
would use battery power for a time, and only enough to keep them alive.

The frigate was a tiny mote in space, hotter than any nearby matter. It would no longer have the readings of a normal running spaceship, though, or a space station, and certainly not that of a planet.

Five minutes after the frigate ceased movement and shut down, the doomsday machine had a sharp energy spike. Kris knew that could only mean one thing. She kept passive sensors on. She wanted to record everything she could for future reference.

The comm light blinked then. Kris glanced at the screen. The Star Watch station was hailing the frigate. The line personnel must have changed their minds over there. Surely, they recognized the fifty-kilometer vessel for what it was. She had given them the video footage of Al Salam’s death. Was she honor bound to answer the call and tell them what to do?

No. Someone had to survive. That’s what a good Patrol officer did. They watched and recorded to tell others later what had happened.