When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Page 10

  “Eight,”the Chief of Staff said.“They never finished building the C.C.”

  “What’s the C.C.?”Arthur asked.

  Jerry rapped the conference table, bringing up the built-in screen, and typed in the phrase Command Carrier.“It was going to be the be-all-end-all for orbital superiority. Packing the most powerful arsenal ever fielded by humanity. Basically a mobile, offensive planetoid.”

  “Jesus.”The aide paled at the thought.“And they scrapped it?”

  Alexander nodded.“Before my time. Part of the Martian’s demands for signing the treaty was that we halt all production on carriers. Made sense at the time.”

  “Who could have known what a decade would bring?”Jerry let out a long sigh and stretched.“Wish we had a hundred of them now.”

  Alexander’s face lost the playful attitude as he looked out of a nearby porthole.“You didn’t hear the things Emperor Anduin said, the stories he could tell. Species who were unprepared for this menace didn’t survive.”He took another sip from his cup.“Give it another few weeks and the dogs will find another bone to chew on. Maybe we can start the debate on changing the calendar again.”

  Arthur fumed.“This isn’t the most appropriate time to be taking a lackadaisical attitude.”

  “I think it’s my head on the chopping block, Arthur. I’ll take whatever attitude I need.”

  “Alexander,”Jerry said.“Let’s get back to this alliance of which you’re so fond.”

  “Please,”the High Chancellor said.“Don’t start now.”

  “We have known about these people for less than a month. Are you sure we can take anything they say at face value?”

  Alexander pinched the meat of his left hand, savoring the bite from the chunk of metal inside.“Of course not. I’m not stupid, Jerry. But we don’t have too many options here. Am I supposed to call upon our vast array of alien intelligence networks to verify Anduin’s claims? We don’t have anything on this race. Not a goddamn thing. And I do find it more than a little convenient that they found us right on our own porch. But what can I do? They have so far laid bare their entire fleet for our inspection. They’ve allowed our scientists to comb over their ships. They’ve shared charts, histories and just about everything you can imagine with us. And that’s in the last twenty days. Only God can imagine what we are going to know tomorrow, and I have to take the big risks while we still have such luxuries. If this threat is as dire at they make it out to be, it’s going to get real ugly and real quick.”

  “Alexander,”Jerry began.

  “No. I don’t need pandering, criticizing or argument right now. I need my cabinet, my generals and another cup of coffee. We can spend the rest of our lives bickering over how we handled the beginning. I want to know how we’re going to wage our war.”

  - VI -

  Gettysburg pulled further from the gravity well of Venetian Four, flying further into the center of the Valley. Almost an hour had passed without word from the fighter squadron, and Captain Gregorovich was beginning to doubt his earlier convictions.

  “Anything on scope?”he asked.

  The radar officer shook his head.“Still getting a lot of interference, sir.”

  Gregorovich bit his fingernails. His heart pounded quickly and sweat ran cold down his spine. He squirmed in his seat, eager for any news.“Come on, what’s taking so damn long?”

  “Wait,”the radar officer said.“I’ve got something.”

  No one on the bridge spoke, and the only sound was the soft click of buttons being pressed. The radar officer aligned the powerful lenses on the carrier’s scope and focused in on the coordinates, bringing the image up on screen. Gregorovich groaned.

  The battle was clearly over. A Boxti frigate, larger than any seen before, floated amidst a field of debris. Twenty blackened husks were all that remained of Kilo Squadron. The alien fighters patrolled the wreckage, pulling apart the Terran ships with tentacle-like cables.

  “Sir, what do you want to do?”

  Gregorovich couldn’t speak. He could hardly breath.“Start the feed. We need to record this.”

  The radar officer complied, typing in a few commands before letting the system take over. Using a long-distance laser range finder, the camera focused on the frigate and began recording.

  “Do you want Delta Squadron prepped for launch?”

  “What?”Gregorovich asked.“What do you mean?”

  The young lieutenant gestured toward the alien vessel.“We’re not exactly hiding, sir. If they look in this direction, they’re going to see us.”

  “And we’ll be more than an hour away. We can jump to Tallus and raise the alarm. It’ll give us the advantage.”

  Before anyone could speak, an alarm sounded. The radar officer’s face blanched.“Sir, they’ve flashed us. I’ve got active scans on every system.”He worked furiously, running through his countermeasures and watching each fail.“They’re turning this way.”

  “I’m getting strange energy signatures from the enemy frigate,”the navigation officer said.

  Gregorovich felt the walls closing in.“Prepare us for a jump to Tallus. Plot coordinates and spin up the Blue drive.”

  Then, in a flash of light, the Boxti vanished from the screen. Silence smothered the bridge like a blanket.

  “Where...where did they go?”The captain asked.

  A new alarm sounded, louder and more insistent. Red strobes flickered to life and pulsed on and off. The radar officer screamed to be heard over the din.

  “Collision alert! Something’s way too close, sir.”

  “Show it to me. Where is it?”Gregorovich couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He gripped the chair with white knuckles.“Damnit, what is happening?”

  The screen changed to a different camera and the crew gasped as one. Only a few hundred meters away, the Boxti frigate took aim and fired. Missiles streaked out of every port, arcing toward the human carrier. Immediately the bridge sprang to life, officers and enlisted rushing to activated defenses and counterattack. Captain Gregorovich didn’t move, but rather stared at the smaller ship like a deer in headlights.

  “But that’s impossible,”he whimpered.“Impossible.”

  * * * * *

  An explosion rocked Gettysburg, sending Kaileen sprawling onto the grated floor. Her head smacked into the bench support. Stars danced in front of her eyes and she felt something warm and wet run down her forehead.

  “Alert! Battle stations. All crew are to report immediately. Alert!”The automated alarm sounded at full blast, mixed in with warbling klaxons and flashing red strobes. From inside the modified escape pod, Kaileen could only watch the throngs of soldiers and crew run past her small window, their voices a cacophony of confusion. Another hit knocked her to the ground again.

  Finding the intercom, Kaileen contacted the MP outside.“What the hell is going on?”

  “We’re under attack,”the response came. The MP’s voice was pained, and Kaileen could tell he’d been injured.“Boxti fighters. They pushed through our defenses. Cambridgeis gone, and we’re venting.”

  “How many of them?”She longed for a window, any way of seeing what was going on outside.

  A cough.“I dunno. Maybe five.”

  Five?She couldn’t believe it. Fleet engaged hundreds of fighters at Luna and it was a turkey shoot. How could five tiny ships reap so much damage?“Let me out,”she said.“I can help, I can fight.”

  His response was cut off by another explosion. She heard something smack into the bulkhead, a sound like a ripe watermelon exploding. The pod shook and began sounding its own alarm. Kaileen looked over at the controls, watching them light up like a Christmas tree. A countdown appeared on the monitor, running backwards from sixty seconds.

  “Shit.”

  On the bridge, Gregorovich gripped his chair for dear life as the ship lurched horribly to starboard. Fires raged in five compartments, effectively cutting the carrier in half. All of the ship’s fighters and bombers had been launched, and all floated d
ead in the slag-filled space around Gettysburg. The battle had lasted minutes, the Terrans’weapons all but useless against the alien onslaught.

  It made no sense. The Captain had watched the Luna tapes again and again. He’d listened to the debrief from Commodore Osaka and Commander DeHart. The enemy was not so powerful that it could not be beaten. And a Phoenix III fighter was said to be a match for seven Y-Fighters. So how had only five managed to annihilate one destroyer, incapacitate another and cripple a carrier and her escort?

  Another missile drove into the engine room before exploding, taking out the gravity generator with it. Crewmembers floated about the bridge, trying desperately to attach their tethers. Gregorovich made his decision. He activated his handheld mic, ready to order the evacuation of all personnel. He lifted the handset to his lips, took a deep breath, and prepared to speak.

  As the Captain readied his order, a barbed black missile drove straight through the top hull, embedding itself in the tiled floor on the bridge. The commander had a moment to register the impact before the warhead exploded, vaporizing everyone inside.

  Kaileen strapped into the control seat, bracing herself for launch. As the timer hit zero, the docking clamps released and the engines engaged. The Gettysburg broke apart around the ExoPod, debris and shrapnel pinging off the hull. Kaileen saw something hit the windshield and roll past. It moved too quickly for her to really have a good look, but she caught a blur of clothing, arms and legs, and a face frozen in fear. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kaileen rode the shockwaves and prayed.

  As the tiny pod raced away from the fray, the Boxti fighters cleaned up. The two destroyers were pounded with fire until all that remained was melted slag. Finally it was just Gettysburg, limping along with one remaining engine and an exposed core. The Boxti frigate closed in, warming up its weapon systems. As Kaileen’s cell tumbled away into the distance, the massive ship fired into the heart of the Terran carrier, obliterating everything. A glowing blue shockwave spread out from the explosion, the heat dissolving everything it touched until all that remained of the battle were specks of melted glass and pieces of hull.

  Their enemy destroyed, the Boxti fighters returned to dock on the outside of the frigate. When all the smaller ships had returned, the large vessel tore off in search of bigger game.

  Behind them, barely conscious inside her spinning prison, Kaileen drifted along with the rest of the dead.

  * * * * *

  Across the reaches of the galaxy, in a dark and unknown system, a message arrived. The words shimmered on a dim screen inside an unlit chamber. With a groan, an immense form rose from its slumber to read the text.

  “We have been attacked by an unknown force. All have been destroyed.”

  The creature’s four eyes scanned the note again and again, its mind turning the information over until it was satisfied with the response.“Are there more nearby?”

  A momentary pause as the question traversed the billion lightyears in between, and then:“A small colony at the edge of the system. Mostly civilians.”

  “Make an example of them.”

  “We request help.”

  The creature took a moment to relish the excitement ahead. The answer was sent quickly.

  “We are coming.”

  - VII -

  November 16, 2236

  A knock at the door pulled Alexander away from his notes. He’d been reading through a series of reports following the ongoing TSI investigation into some new nonsensical scientific experiment, and understanding exactly none of it. An aide ducked his head in, face red from the embarrassment of interrupting his boss. Alexander waved a hand to put the boy at ease.

  “What is it?”he asked with a yawn. He looked at the clock, amazed that it was already three in the morning. He set down the report, wincing at the oncoming headache. Truth be told, he was looking for a distraction. For a straight month, he’d been eaten alive in the press over his institution of the draft.

  The aide stayed at the door.“There’s an alert out, sir. Code Red 11.”

  That got Alexander’s attention. He sat up, immediately alert, and slipped into his shoes. He was out the door a moment later, his security speed-walking to keep up. At the meeting room, Jerry and Arthur were already on their second cups of coffee. Jerry looked worse for wear, with his five o’clock shadow and rumpled clothing. Arthur was immaculate as always, looking as though he’d woken up hours before and had taken his time grooming.

  Admiral of the Line John Walker paced the room, shouting into a phone. Military men and heads-of-state alike dodged his path as he wore down the carpet with each thumping step. His dress uniform rattled, medals clanging together. Normally he would be wearing a flight suit, but he had come straight from a press junket to assist with the crisis.“Give me the numbers,”he said. His hand shot out, fingers snapping at a young captain. The subordinate responded by handing over a pen and paper, which the commander of the Terran Fleet used to jot down notes from the call.

  The High Chancellor gripped the doorposts.“What happened?”

  Walker turned, his silver eyes bloodshot. Alexander knew the news before he heard it. Nothing good ever happened at this hour. His Chief of Staff fought a series of emotions, trying to prepare a measured statement for the Chief Executive. Arthur managed to shake his head before speaking.

  “There’s been an attack,”Arthur said.“Fleet lost a strike group near Tallus.”

  Alexander’s blood ran cold. The honeymoon’s over. They gave us a month to prepare. He wiped a sudden film of perspiration from his forehead. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was cotton-dry. Looking around the room, he saw a half-dozen heads of state, as well as every military man aboard the ship. Whatever had happened, the reaction was enormous.

  “How many lost?”he managed to ask.

  One of the lower ranking generals—Alexander couldn’t help but notice the oxymoronic value of that idea—walked over with a casualty report.“It looks like all hands. There must have been hundreds of ships to take on a carrier and escort.”

  “The Gettysburgwasn’t traveling with a full group,”one of the admirals chimed in.“Only two destroyers, but that should have been enough from the intel the Nangolani provided. A small mining operation with minimal security...it should have been a cakewalk.”

  Arthur looked up.“How did they get that information?”

  “Years of experience,”a voice said. The man wore a jet black suit without any name or rank. Only the golden pin of an eye on his lapel held any significance. His eyes were covered by opaque sunglasses and his skin was pale and dry. It was easy to see where his type earned the name“ghosts.”As he spoke, the other voices quieted down.“The Nangolani have been hunted by the Boxti for a lifetime. They’ve come to learn a few things.”

  The aide persisted.“But knowing the exact location of a mining group?”

  “Irrelevant.”The man straightened up, gathering papers from the table into a slim briefcase.“They knew the enemy was in our system, what resources they needed and where they would likely go to get them.”

  “Seems a little suspicious.”

  The agent grinned.“Not every tragedy has a conspiracy behind it.”He walked out without another word, his phone out and dialing.

  “Captain Gregorovich wasn’t stupid,”Walker said, ending his call. The hulking five-star admiral shouldered past the lower-ranking officers and stood before the High Chancellor.“He didn’t even get a chance to send a proper broadcast. All we have is a contact report that must have been from his scout units.”

  Alexander fought to maintain a strict poker face. Strike Group Tallus wasn’t just the aging carrier and a few destroyers. The bulk of the armada was devised of heavy frigates and two cruisers. All were down for repairs at the moment, but Tallus had never been a dangerous place. Besides, the Gettysburg was a match for a hundred Boxti warships.

  “What was the contact report?”

  Walker looked down at his notes.“Five ships, one large frigate. Conducting so
me sort of operation near Venetian Four.”

  Arthur set down his tablet, swiping his fingers over the glass to clear the screen. He rubbed his face, groaning.“It must been the tip of one very big iceberg.”

  Something wasn’t rubbing Alexander the right way. A tickle in the back of his mind. He looked around the room again, trying to place his sense of unease. The assembled generals and heads of staff all remained active, shouting into their phones and poring over computer consoles. Staffers ran in and out, bringing coffee and updated reports from the FTL receiver. Shaking off the feeling, Alexander went to Jerry.

  “We’ll need to rally the rest of Tallus’available defenses. Send out an alert to President Newman. He needs Sector Patrol in the air immediately, and any and all pilots to get into fighters to prepare for an attack. Evacuation of civilians is the priority. Once they’ve managed to jump out, we can bring in the rest of Fleet.”He paused. Everyone in the room had gone silent and stared at him blankly.“What?”

  Walker put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.“Mr. Chancellor. We haven’t been able to reach anyone on Tallus in fifteen minutes.”

  That dropped him. Alexander fell into a chair, his legs simply giving out.“What do you...how can we have lost contact?”

  This time it was Jerry at his side. He handed the politician a glass of water.“About an hour after the report, Tallus went dark. No FTL traffic, no relay responses, nothing. The entire area disappeared from our board. We’ve tried accessing the TSI Observer network, but nothing is showing up. It’s as if the entire planet and everything around it simply vanished.”

  Alexander’s mind raced so fast he became dizzy.“Could they have pulled the plug voluntarily?”

  The Admiral shook his head.“Tallus, of all places, would never enact the Ronin Protocol.”