The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3) (6 page)

“There are three considerations hindering me from doing exactly that,” Maddox said. “One, the professor is unbelievably sly. He tricked the New Men. It’s more than conceivable he can trick me. Two is the stakes involved—control of
Victory
. This is a reckless place to practice the questioning, especially as he’s already sealed away.” Maddox had given Galyan orders to stay out of the professor’s room. “No. I’m thinking of putting the professor in stasis and—”

“Negative,” Galyan said.

Both men stared at the holoimage before exchanging glances with each other.

“Could you expand on your comment?” Maddox asked Galyan.

“I cannot allow you to place the professor in stasis,” the holoimage said.

“Do you have a reason?” Maddox asked.

“Negative,” Galyan said.

“That’s illogical,” Maddox said. “The law of cause and effect dictates you must have a reason for saying what you did.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Let me rephrase the question,” Maddox said. Speaking with the ancient AI could be challenging at times. “What compelled you to say what you just did?”

“I do not know,” Galyan admitted.

“Do you plan on freeing the professor or speaking with him?”

“Negative.”

“Will you head straight to Earth as I’ve ordered?”

“That is affirmative, Captain. I am under your command.”

“Just not if I attempt to put Ludendorff in stasis,” Maddox said.

“That is correct.”

Maddox eyed the holoimage, finally motioning Riker. The two of them walked away from Galyan.

“What do you make of that, sir?” Riker whispered.

“Dana guessed it. The professor did something underhanded while ridding the AI of the Swarm virus.” Maddox spoke louder. “Galyan, can you pinpoint the moment the professor instructed you to shift your star drive jump so we appeared where we first did in this system?”

“I do not understand the query,” Galyan said.

“How did we arrive by the magnetic storm when we did? It wasn’t a coincidence. Do you recall the professor making any adjustments to the flight path?”

“Negative.”

Maddox considered that. He whispered to Riker, “It appears Ludendorff can control Galyan in a way that’s beneath the AI’s perception.”

“What are we going to do about it, sir?”

Maddox considered the question. Once more, he raised his voice. “Galyan, will you keep Ludendorff and his people locked in their quarters for the remainder of the voyage?”

“Affirmative.”

Maddox leaned near Riker, whispering, “We’re going to get home to Earth as fast as possible to report on the victories in the Tannish and Markus Systems and also tell Intelligence about the ghostly vessel. Then, we’ll get ready for the next battle against the New Men.”

“What about the professor?” Riker whispered.

“He’s locked away from harm. I’ll let Star Watch decide his punishment.”

-6-

Over one hundred and fifty light years away from Maddox, Commander Kris Guderian of the Star Watch Frigate
Osprey
exited a Laumer-Point into the New Arabia System.

The bridge crew and the frigate’s computers were presently in the grip of Jump Lag.

The system had a G class star with five planets and millions of comets in the outer region. In the inner area were two Earthlike worlds in nearly identical orbits. The farther planet in relation to the star was named Al Salam, the closer world was Riyadh. They were the twin home worlds of the Wahhabi Caliphate.

Osprey
was a Patrol vessel, part of the scouting arm of Star Watch. Normally, Patrol craft went into the Beyond, surveying new star systems. Her crew was composed of hardened explorers and scientists accustomed to spending years at a time away from port.

Commander Guderian had been with the Fifth Fleet under Admiral Fletcher. Almost nine months ago, she had first brought the admiral word of the approaching New Men. The attacking star cruisers had brought about the ill-fated Battle of Caria 323.
Osprey
had fled with the rest of the survivors into the void, heading for the Tannish System. Six months after the first battle, Guderian had witnessed the victory over the New Men with the ancient starship’s disruptor beam. After the second battle, Fletcher had given her the task of racing to Caliph Mohammad Saladin Bey the III in New Arabia. She was to inform the ruler of Star Watch’s victory over the enemy.

That meant
Osprey
and her crew hadn’t gotten to go home first, but headed as fast as they could to the heart of the Muslim star empire. That was one of the benefits of Patrol craft. They were fast.

As Kris recovered from Jump Lag, she raised her head at her station on the bridge. Kris doubled as her own communications and sensor officer so she began engaging the sensors and studied her comm-board as the effects of Jump Lag started wearing off.

Kris Guderian had short red hair and a splash of freckles across her nose. She had an Irish-German background and had to fend off more than her share of romantic invitations from the scientists aboard. The worst offender she had confined to quarters.

“That’s strange,” Kris said.

“What’s that, Commander?” her pilot asked

Lieutenant Artemis was a tall woman with shiny fingernails. She was currently the only other person on the bridge.

“No one in the system is hailing us,” Kris said.

“Oh,” Artemis said. “That is odd.”

The Wahhabis were known for having the strictest pre and post jump protocols of anyone in inhabited space. Why hadn’t someone hailed them? Guderian needed to find out.

Kris tapped her panel, scanning nearby space. A frozen Pluto-like planet orbited several hundred thousand kilometers away. The commander didn’t spy any signs of life there. The weirdest thing was that there should have been Wahhabi warships guarding the Laumer-Point. There was nothing here but empty space.

“Could the New Men have hit New Arabia?” Artemis asked.

“The indications we’ve seen during the journey don’t point to that,” Kris said. “Everything has been tense but peaceful among the Wahhabis. Every system was on full alert. You know how zealously each sheik-superior questioned us about the war in ‘C’ Quadrant.”

“Should I begin heading in-system?” Artemis asked.

“Yes.”

As the pilot went to work, the commander fixed her sensors on the nearby planet while looking up its stats on the database. The ice-rock was called Al Gaza and was supposed to have heavy-mount laser cannons and underground shelters.

A cold feeling squeezed Kris’s heart.
Osprey’s
sensors showed a hot, radioactive globe. That was a molten planet out there. But that didn’t make sense. Al Gaza was supposed to be a frozen iceoid.

Kris flicked on the frigate’s intercom. “This is the Commander speaking. We are on red alert. I repeat. We are on red alert.”

“I don’t see a thing anywhere, Commander,” Artemis said as she studied her flight screen.

Kris widened the sensor sweeps. “Let’s proceed cautiously,” she told Artemis. “Make it half cruising speed.”

The lonely Patrol vessel started in-system. Riyadh and Al Salam were both several billion kilometers away.

Osprey
had a few weapons systems, but nothing to boast about. It relied on speed for ultimate protection, although they had a weak shield and paltry hull armor. The frigate’s strength lay in its sensors, in many ways better than a battleship’s.

Kris used those sensors. Her stomach tightened as she spotted several wrecks floating in the void five hundred million kilometers away.

The Wahhabi Caliphate had a strong political system. They also had good warships and hardy soldiers. Their Muslim beliefs strengthened their devotion to duty. Sometimes it made them inflexible, but that could also be a plus.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Artemis asked, “How does one of the busiest star systems in existence—”

Harsh static from Guderian’s board cut off the pilot. Kris tapped a panel, bringing an image to the forward screen.

“What is that?” Artemis asked.

A gigantic, lightening-lit spheroid of immense size—bigger than a planet—grew into existence on the screen.

“That’s in the inner system,” Kris said. “This is at high magnification.”

The spheroid sizzled with power, sending long bolts of purple energy into the void. The display increased with intensity.

“By the goddess,” Artemis said. “What is
that
?”

Kris spied a huge, teardrop-shaped vessel inside what the sensors showed was an ionic front magnetic storm. A few quick taps on her board gave the commander an idea of the vessel’s size. It had to be over fifty kilometers long, monstrous by starship standards. The commander didn’t know of any warship anywhere that was even one kilometer in length.

“What...”

Artemis’s words drained away as the pyrotechnic display began to shrink with fantastic speed. In minutes, the magnetic storm drained away, leaving the giant ship alone in the stellar darkness.

“I am a fool,” Kris said. She manipulated her panel, beginning a heavy scan of the distant object.

“Look over there,” Artemis said. She pointed at the very edge of the screen.

Kris didn’t look up. She was too busy reading her sensors. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing?”

“Neither can I,” Artemis said.

Something in the pilot’s voice caused Kris to look up. At the edge of the main screen was a mass of Wahhabi warships. The commander directed her sensors at them.

The vast majority of warships were
Scimitar
-class vessels, oblong craft with extremely long-ranged lasers. The Wahhabi Navy preferred distance battles, using speed to keep their opponents from closing. The
Scimitar
-class ships were a cross in size between Star Watch cruisers and destroyers.

“I’m picking up a message,” Kris said.

On the screen, the space scene disappeared. In its place, a sheik-superior appeared. He was a dark-skinned man wearing a red turban with a large diamond in the center.

“You are in Wahhabi home space,” the sheik-superior said. “You must decelerate and accept court representatives aboard your ship.”

“Is he speaking to us?” Artemis asked.

Kris was surprised the pilot asked something so obviously wrong. The monster vessel and the Wahhabi Home Fleet were billions of kilometers away in the inner system. That meant what
Osprey’s
sensors picked up had already taken place hours ago.

The Wahhabi commander had spoken to the giant ship.

“Your silence means we will have to attack,” the sheik-superior said. “Therefore, I urge you to answer before we are forced to initiate hostilities and destroy your vessel.”

No one aboard the teardrop-shaped ship answered.

“What’s happening in space?” Artemis asked.

Kris switched scenes so the sheik-superior vanished. Billions of kilometers away from
Osprey
, lasers flashed from the
Scimitar
-class raiders. The beams speared over one hundred thousand kilometers to hit the giant ship’s hull.

“Doesn’t it have a shield?” Artemis asked.

“The sensors show neutroium armor.”

“Meaning what?”

“The neutrons are packed side-by-side. That makes the armor incredibly dense and heavy.”

Artemis frowned. “That sounds impossible. Neutrons like that could only be in the middle of a neutron star. The armor should be highly unstable.”

“With our present science, you’re right,” Kris said. “Yet that’s what my sensors are showing: pure neutroium.”

“This is bad,” Artemis said. “The Wahhabi Home Fleet primarily uses lasers. I doubt even heavy lasers will have enough time to penetrate the neutroium.”

“Yes,” Kris said. “I imagine that’s going to be a problem for them.”

As they watched, the Wahhabis increased velocity, the fleet racing at the monster vessel. So far, the teardrop-shaped ship continued straight for Al Salam.

Kris understood the sheik-superior’s reasoning. A laser dissipated energy the farther it beamed. So, the closer a laser beamed, the stronger it was. Yet, could even close-range laser fire do anything to neutroium armor? It looked as if the sheik-superior meant to find out.

The Wahhabis had a reason for trusting in their combat lasers. Kris happened to know that Star Watch Intelligence sent their best espionage agents to Wahhabi space. The Muslim scientists constructed better lasers than anyone else. The Wahhabi Navy had better heavy-mount lasers than Star Watch did and could fire more accurately over extreme distances. Star Watch wanted the superior technology for their warships. Unfortunately, the Wahhabi secret service was also among the best.

“Decelerate,” Kris ordered Artemis. “Turn us around as fast as you can.”

“We’re leaving the star system?” Artemis asked.

“Do you think the Wahhabis can beat that ship?” Kris asked.

“Maybe.”

“No,” Kris said. “That ship has more mass than the entire Wahhabi Navy combined, maybe more mass than the entire Wahhabi Navy and Merchant Marine.”

“Then—”

“What do you think happened to Al Gaza to turn the Plutonic planet into a radioactive globe? The ship must have burned the iceoid. We have to tell High Command about this.”

“Shouldn’t we see what happens first?” Artemis asked.

Kris thought about that. It was a reasonable idea. Yet how could the Wahhabis beat that vessel? “We’ll decide once we’re near the Laumer-Point.”

The pilot glanced at Guderian, likely understanding the point. It would be wise to get ready to flee.

“Yes, Commander,” Artemis said. “You’d better inform the crew. We’re going to practice some hard maneuvering.”

In the outer New Arabia System, the Patrol frigate decelerated at emergency speeds. As
Osprey
did so, the neutroium-hulled super-vessel remained on course for the desert planet of Al Salam.

Time ticked away as the Wahhabis closed the distance to the invader. In an hour,
Osprey
was ready to reenter the Laumer-Point.

“What do you say, Commander?” Artemis asked. “Do we leave New Arabia?”

“Not just yet,” Kris said. High Command would want battle data.

“I didn’t think we would,” Artemis said. “You want to see what happens when that thing attacks just as much as I do.” Patrol officers were notoriously curious people.

Kris was too fixated on the screen and her sensors to respond. The big ship never swung around to face the Wahhabis gaining on it. Remorselessly, the monster vessel approached Al Salam. The teardrop-shaped vessel didn’t travel quickly. Rather, it moved at a leisurely pace like a space whale.

From their distant vantage point on the fringe of the outer system, Kris and Artemis watched the Wahhabi lasers beam from sixty-five thousand kilometers away. Over one hundred raider beams splashed against the neutroium hull.

Kris recorded the wattage hitting the alien armor. The power expenditure staggered her. There was a reason few people messed with the Wahhabis.

The sheik-superior didn’t use the same tactics a Star Watch admiral would have. The Wahhabis were raiders by nature, using wolf-pack tactics. Hit-and-run was their favored maneuver. Today, they hit, heading closer and closer to their adversary. Wahhabi ships didn’t have heavy hull armor. They relied on shields, speed and their long-ranged lasers. Those beams grew hotter, pouring vicious energy against the giant craft.

With this tactic and those lasers, the Wahhabi Home Fleet would have done well against a Star Watch Fleet. Against the neutroium-hulled monster—

“I’m recording some slight scorching to the alien hull,” Kris said. “I hadn’t expected the lasers to do anything against that armor.”

“The ship is ignoring them,” Artemis said. “I can hardly believe this.”