Cradle of War (A Captain's Crucible Book 3) (26 page)

Jonathan stared into those emotionless eyes. “You’re an Artificial.”

Bill nodded. “I am.”

“Relieve me,” Jonathan said slowly. “I take it some sort of preliminary agreement has been signed between the Zarafe faction and humanity, then?”

“That would be a correct assumption.”

“So I’m finally going home,” Jonathan said, surprised at the relief in his voice.

“Not precisely,” Bill said. “You’re under arrest.”

“Why? I mean, sure, I was expecting an inquiry, but not jail time.”

Bill glanced at the Centurions, who yet kept their rifles aimed at him. “Specialists, both human and AI, have reviewed and analyzed the data dump your crew submitted into our custody. Some of your actions over the past six months have been deemed... questionable. I’m transmitting the authorization for your arrest to your Praetor unit as we speak.”

The designated combat robot turned toward the captain. “I’m sorry sir. He has full authority to issue your arrest.” The other Centurions lowered their rifles.

“Pack your things, Captain Dallas,” the Artificial said. “Two Centurions will escort you to the waiting Dragonfly. It will transport you to the
USS Renegade,
where you will await trial.”

“Trial? So I’m not getting an inquiry?”

“No,” Bill said. “Yours will be a full-blown general court-martial.”

B
ridgette sat on the floor of the nursery, rocking Eugene in her arms. She was in the newborn area. Beyond it, in the main play area, various toys were scattered about the deck. There, children played alone or in groups, sometimes with each other, but mostly with robot playmates. They all wore aReals, and no doubt the realities they saw were augmented. A few were obviously immersed in complete virtual environments, for example the three children swaying and moving their arms in one corner.

Artificial supervisors observed the proceedings from the bulkheads of the nursery compartment. Their presence made her uneasy, mostly because of her encounter with a certain Artificial on the alien ship named Zhidao. There was only one other human present at the moment, the head supervisor.

It was hard to believe that three months had passed since her return to the
Callaway
. Three months since the fleet continued to be trapped in that faraway galaxy. Three slow, tedious months of healing.

Two months ago she had been released from intensive care. Her hair had grown back somewhat, so that she had a short mop of the stuff on her head. Her scalp still itched occasionally, though the discomfort was manageable.

The weavers had kept Eugene in postnatal care for another six weeks after her own release. In theory they could have let him go much sooner, but the doctors had wanted to keep the baby under observation. They still weren’t sure what the long term effects of the radiation poisoning, and his resultant treatment, would have.

She regarded the baby in her arms. So small, so fragile. His eyes were closed, and she thought he had fallen asleep.

They cut you out of me. Forced you into this world early so that they could feed anti-rads directly through your umbilical. My poor, beautiful, baby boy.

For the short term his prognosis was good, for the most part, though his growth would be stunted. The doctors knew that for certain. While his brain was developing normally so far, his body would take some time to catch up: Eugene would have to remain on a liquid diet for longer than normal. His muscles were developing slower than usual. He would walk late. It probably didn’t help that he still had an anti-rad subdermal embedded underneath the skin of his lower back, and he would wear it for the foreseeable future. So many difficulties. Not the best way to start one’s life.

She shook her head.

It was all the fault of that telepath. Kidnapping her, and then deceiving her into departing the alien ship while it orbited so close to a star. Well, the alien ship had blown up shortly after she departed, so she supposed he
had
been trying to save her, in a sense. Still, he should have allowed her to leave earlier, when they were much farther from that star. And he shouldn’t have kidnapped her in the first place. He could have chosen any other of the two thousand civilians and crew aboard the
Callaway
to take as a hostage, and yet he had to pick her.

She was sure Barrick had tricked Jonathan into leaving the ship as well. Jonathan would have never abandoned his task group like that, not of his own free will. It just wasn’t something a flagship commander of his caliber would do. Oh sure, Robert had laid out all the reasons Jonathan gave, but Bridgette didn’t entirely buy them. The evil telepath had done something to him, somehow. She wondered if that wormhole even led back to their own galaxy.

Jonathan hadn’t even said goodbye. He could have at least left her a video message or something before he left. She only learned of his departure when Robert told her he was the new CO of the
Callaway
. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact that Jonathan hadn’t said goodbye, or that he hadn’t visited her once while she was in the infirmary. She had known him since she first came aboard, and it was as if her friendship meant nothing to him. Robert tried to explain to her how guilty Jonathan felt about the whole thing, telling her the captain felt responsible for her and her baby because apparently he ‘convinced her’ to keep it. Bridgette didn’t see it that way, not at all.

I decided to keep the baby myself, not because of what Robert, Jonathan, or anyone else told me.

Still, it was probably for the best that Jonathan hadn’t come. She hadn’t wanted him to see her lying there helpless in the infirmary like that, a shell of her former self. She had gained several pounds since her release of course, and was close to her previous weight, but whenever she looked at the frightening pictures and videos of the skeleton she had been during hospitalization, she couldn’t help but feel glad that he had stayed away. Even so, a video message from Jonathan would have gone a long way...

She missed her newfound friends from the infirmary sometimes, though occasionally she still had lunch with Wolf and the other pilots who had risked their lives for her. She wished Lin were still aboard, however, and not transferred to the
Salvador
. That amazing woman was a strong female role model if ever there was one. Bridgette and all the other pilots owed her their lives. Bridgette had tried convincing Robert to let Lin stay, but the commander was adamant.

“You had to leave the navy so you could be with me,” Robert said. “If she really wants to be with Lieutenant Commander Wolf, Lieutenant Akido can do the same. How is that fair to you otherwise, and all the others who left the military to be with spouses?”

Bridgette didn’t really care if it was fair or not, she just wanted the woman who had saved her life to be happy. But when Robert set his foot down on something, he refused to budge, especially when that something went against his moral code.

Bridgette was about ready to stand, intending to return her baby to his cradle, when something unusual happened.

The other cribs began to float into the air around her. One of the babies in those cribs cried frantically, obviously terrified. The others remained completely silent.

In the nursery beyond, abandoned toys hovered into the air, too. The children and their robot companions seemed oblivious, and they continued playing as though nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring.

Those toys, cribs and other loose objects slowly floated through the air, coming together, forming a long cylindrical object that was vaguely reminiscent of one of those anomalies Robert had shown her in the video archives: the embryonic objects the Elder claimed were their offspring.

She glanced at Eugene in her arms. Her baby no longer slept, and calmly looked up at her with those huge, curious eyes of his. Somehow, she knew he was responsible. She also knew Eugene would mirror her emotions—the child was very, very empathic. If she panicked, Eugene would, too.

Remain calm.

She steadied her breathing and looked up once more. She blinked in disbelief: the cribs and toys had returned to their previous places, just as if they had never moved at all. The children continued to play as if nothing had happened.

The human supervisor entered the newborn area to tend to the baby who was still crying.

“Did you see that?” Bridgette asked her.

The woman looked at her and smiled obligingly. “See what?”

Bridgette forced a quick smile in return. “Never mind.”

She already knew that Eugene had psi abilities—when Barrick had attempted to abort her baby, she had somehow linked with the child, and used his strength to repel the telepath. At the time, Barrick had said that her latent abilities were strong: he was wrong, because she knew it was all Eugene. Her baby was the powerful one.

Still, she hadn’t expected his powers to manifest so early. That none of the other children had seen what she had told her that Eugene had planted those images only in her mind. Then again, the crying baby... perhaps he had broadcast the image to everyone present, but only that baby—and Bridgette—had the psi ability to receive it.

She gently returned Eugene to his cradle and he cooed in contentment. As she hummed him to sleep, she had a startling thought.

Perhaps her decision to keep the baby hadn’t entirely been her own. It was possible that Eugene had influenced her thoughts in some way while he was yet unborn. The very notion caused chills to run up and down her spine. The self-preservation instinct was strong in all forms of life, unborn or not. That Eugene might have developed to the point where he was aware not only of his self, but of the mortal danger he was in—while still in the uterus—frightened her.

Psi children can influence their fate from the womb...

If that was true, it meant other children who did not have those abilities were at a disadvantage. Abortions were common throughout the United Systems. Because of that, she could see psi powers rising in the population, thanks to natural selection.

We’re selecting against children who don’t have psi powers, and who can’t stop their own abortions.

She cleared her mind. Whether or not psi powers were on the rise in the human population didn’t concern her. What did concern her was the babe resting in the cradle in front of her.

He wasn’t going to be an easy child to raise. Not at all.

Eugene would be able to do great things when he was older.

But if she didn’t raise him properly, he would grow into a very dangerous man.

R
obert resided on the bridge, seated at his customary place beside the Round Table.

Via his aReal contact lenses, he casually regarded the video feed from one of the telemetry drones positioned two thousand kilometers off the nose of the
Callaway
. The partially-completed Gate floated there in the void, a beautiful sight if only because of the hope the ugly artifact welled within him. The construction was progressing well: the Builder had completed forty-eight percent of it, so that the finished portion vaguely resembled a crescent moon.

The three months since Jonathan departed had gone by surprisingly quickly. His wife was healed, his son on the mend, and crew morale hovered surprisingly high. He always believed the crew reflected the captain’s mood, so the former’s good spirits weren’t entirely unexpected.

Though his own good mood was partially a mask, he had to admit. Being a captain wasn’t just about sitting around in a chair and delegating tasks all day. A captain had to make decisions, and live with them.

I will live with mine.

Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel doubt or guilt from those decisions, nor stress at having to make those choices in the first place. The whole fleet was looking at him to get them home in one piece. That was a big burden. One that was pitted with frustrations.

He had lost half a platoon of combat robots and a Dragonfly because of a decision he had made to capture alien technology. And so far the chief weapons engineer, Lieutenant Harv Boroker, hadn’t been able to figure out how that technology worked. At least the insides of the microbots hadn’t turned into jelly when taken apart, unlike the enemy fighters. Still, Robert was frustrated. Why bother to capture alien tech if humanity couldn’t reverse engineer it, let alone use it? Especially given the cost of acquisition. It was hard to justify the losses, given that he had gained absolutely nothing in return.

But that’s not the point, is it? We have to try. And if we can’t figure the tech out, maybe when we get home the NAVCENT scientists will have better luck.

NAVCENT. He thought of Jonathan, and hoped the captain’s inquiry had gone well. Jonathan had probably been promoted to admiral and given medals galore by then; he was likely famous throughout the United Systems. The captain who had defeated thirty alien ships with only five of his own. That was probably the real reason Jonathan had wanted to return early—to make sure he alone took the credit. No, that wasn’t true, Robert knew. Jonathan wasn’t the type to seek medals and personal glory. Still, Robert supposed, Jonathan certainly deserved any awards and promotions the navy bestowed upon him.

As an admiral with actual experience fighting the aliens, Jonathan had probably been assigned the command of a new battle group. In fact, he was likely heading toward Vega 951 at that moment—if his new fleet wasn’t there already. He would be waiting for Robert and the others to return, likely building a Gate to Prius 3 so that when the
Callaway
finally came, they could all return together. Or perhaps Jonathan would absorb the
Callaway
into his new fleet, and they would continue deeper into alien space on a mission of peace with their new Zarafe allies.

Robert smiled sadly. Somehow he doubted it would be so idealistic as that. While he was a romantic idealist at heart, the realist inside him knew that any battle group sent to Vega 951 would definitely not be on a peaceful mission. Their purpose would likely be to probe the outer defenses of the Raakarr frontier territories, using the knowledge given to them by the Zarafe to perform reconnaissance of key planets and colonies, and perhaps engage in the occasional skirmish, paving the way for an invasion force.

And as for the warning given by the Elder? NAVCENT would likely ignore it. The Elder were a galaxy away after all, and their words so vague, so open to interpretation, that anything could be seen as unworthiness in their eyes, including inaction.

Robert dismissed the video feed and glanced at Miko beside him. He extended his noise canceler around the man and said: “Compose any interesting symphonies lately?”

“I haven’t had time,” his first officer responded. “My new role is eating up every spare moment.”

Robert chuckled. “It kind of does that.” He was surprised at how much free time he had since giving up the position of first officer. After assuming the role of commanding officer, he had expected his free time to drop to basically zero, but that wasn’t the case at all. He hadn’t realized how much work the captain offloaded to his crew, especially his first officer. Robert couldn’t say he really missed his old position.

“I thought you used to sell your compositions on that marketplace, what’s it called?” Robert accessed his holographic InterGalNet browser, hoping he might be able to find a cached copy of the virtual storefront in his search history, since he had visited the site often in the past, mostly to listen to the free samples. Robert enjoyed “discovering” new artists and liked to support their work by licensing copies, even though he never used the license for anything.

“Audiotastic,” Miko said.

“That’s it.” Robert closed the browser. “Made a lot of sales?”

Miko shrugged in a modest manner. “A few. One of the bigger VR studios has used a couple of my compositions in their experiences. One of those experiences was downloaded almost a billion times.”

Robert nodded, impressed. “Very nicely done. Must be quiet the feeling, knowing that a billion people have listened to your work.”

“I suppose so, Commander,” Miko said. “Though I doubt most viewers really notice, since the music is only a small part of the overall experience.”

“Come on, everyone knows music can make or break a VR experience. Too much ruins immersion, too little and there’s no emotion.”

“You do realize that many people simply replace the tracks with their own music, right?” Miko countered.

“Well, either way, I’m sure the sales are a nice padding to your military stipend.”

Miko shrugged. “Some years.”

“Sir!” Ensign Lewis interrupted. “A heat signature just appeared from the Slipstream.”

Robert retracted the noise canceler. “Which Slipstream?” He sat straighter, pulling up the previously dismissed video feed and activating his tactical display.

“The one we’re building a Gate in front of,” Lewis responded.

He saw the ship on the video feed before she finished speaking. It floated almost in the exact middle of the partially completed Gate. It vaguely resembled a United Systems corvette with those long, misshapen wings protruding from the aft portion of an expansive hull. The cigar shape of the central segment was uneven, a metallic monstrosity of sharp angles and odd proportions, almost like it was made entirely out of parts salvaged from other ships.

“They’re right beside us.” Robert buttoned up his collar. “Maxwell, sound General Quarters!”

“General quarters!” The AI’s voice came over the main circuit. “General quarters! All hands man your battle stations. Up and forward to starboard, down and aft to port. This is not a drill! General quarters, General quarters.” A klaxon sounded five times before the message repeated.

“Miko,” Robert said, muting the alert. “Have the fleet put some distance between ourselves and that ship. Prepare to fire a mortar and slug spread. Ensign, does the CDC have any data on its capabilities yet? Weapons? Maneuverability? Is it an Elder vessel?”

“There are no obvious weapon mounts,” Lewis said. “But I don’t think it’s an Elder ship.”

“Why?”

“The vessel appears to be constrained by Newtonian physics.”

“Well that’s good,” Robert said. “I think.”

“If we have to fight it,” Miko said. “It’s very good.”

“Ensign, could this ship have come from Vega 951?” Robert asked.

“No,” Lewis said. “It has to be native to this galaxy. Remember, only this side of the Slipstream points to Vega 951 at the moment. The Elder told us that the Vega 951 side points to Prius 3. So anyone entering from Vega 951—”

“Would emerge in Prius 3, yes yes,” Robert said. “But we’re assuming the Elder haven’t lied about that.”

Miko turned toward him. “But if they lied, the
Talon
would have returned by now.”

“Unless this ship was waiting for them,” Robert said.

Miko nodded slowly. “While that is certainly possible, I’ll have to side with the ensign on this one. These newcomers probably came from another nearby system in the current galaxy, which this Slipstream originally led to. They’ll be in for a surprise if they try to return, though...”

Yes. They’ll end up in Vega 951.

While the rest of the fleet was quickly moving away, Robert noticed that the alien vessel had remained near the Slipstream. At least it hadn’t fired.

The strange craft abruptly thrusted, maneuvering until it floated right alongside the partially completed Gate. Staying close, the ship began to follow the curve of the structure.

“What the hell is it doing?” Robert said.

“Maybe they’re just curious,” Lewis replied. “They’ve probably never seen anything like it before in this galaxy. Similar to the Raakarr and Elder, I’m guessing they don’t need Gates to traverse Slipstreams.”

“Why is it that humanity is the only species at a disadvantage when it comes to Slipstreams?” Robert complained. “We need to remedy that failing ASAP, before it causes us any more problems.” He stared at the odd ship on his display. “Comm, relay a welcome message in all known languages and communication protocols.”

Miko spoke up. “I must remind the commander that any EM emissions, even those meant for communication purposes, could be perceived as an aggressive act by the aliens. First contact procedures—”

“I’m well aware of first contact procedures,” Robert said. “I know the risks. Proceed, comm.”

Miko had never reminded Jonathan of those procedures, Robert noted. Then again, Miko had never been the first officer before, either.

“Relaying welcome message,” Lieutenant Lazur said from the comm station. A moment later: “No response.”

The craft abruptly pulled away from the Gate.

“The alien vessel is accelerating,” Ensign Lewis said.

Robert crossed his arms to fend off a sudden chill. “Don’t tell me that’s because of our contact attempt. Trajectory?”

“They’re heading toward the task group. They just matched our speed... and now they’re going beyond it.”

“Miko,” Robert said. “I want us moving away from that thing at maximum possible speed.”

“We’re already moving at the maximum,” Miko said. “At least, we’re moving as fast as our slowest members.”

“I have an update on their trajectory,” Lewis said. “They’re heading directly toward the
Marley
.”

“The Builder?” Robert said. “Damn it. Miko, maneuver the fleet in front of the
Marley
. We have to protect her.”

“Do you want to fire a mortar and slug spread, Commander?” Miko said.

“Not yet,” Robert replied. “Remember, this is a first contact situation. They’re probably mostly curious at the moment. Let’s not change their mood.”

The
Callaway
and the four other United Systems ships quickly closed with the
Marley
and placed themselves in a defensive grid behind her.

“Miko, any guesses on what they want with the
Marley?
” Robert said.

“Maybe the vessel detected the same minerals from the Gate in her cargo stores,” Miko responded. “Though I’m not sure why that would attract them.”

“Those minerals would be in their raw, unprocessed state, wouldn’t they?” Robert asked.

“That’s right,” Miko said.

Robert rubbed his earlobe. “Interesting.”

“Alien vessel has closed to one thousand kilometers,” Lewis said.

“Hold fire...” Robert said.

“Five hundred kilometers.”

“Three hundred.”

“One hundred.”

On the tactical display, Robert watched the alien vessel close to a kilometer from the
Callaway,
which stood directly between it and the
Marley
.

“Alien vessel has decelerated, and is holding its position,” Lewis said.

“Comm, try to hail them again,” Robert ordered.

“No response,” Lazur replied.

“They’re accelerating again,” Lewis said. “And applying dorsal thrust of some kind. They’re flying right underneath us.”

Robert watched the vessel squeeze past the
Callaway
and the
Salvador
toward the Builder.

“They’re matching the
Marley’s
speed,” the ensign said.

“How close are they to her?” Robert asked.

“Less than eight hundred meters below her lowest point,” Lewis said.

Robert glanced at his first officer. “Miko, what’s the charge on our heavy lasers?”

“Forty-five percent as of this moment,” Miko answered.