The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4) (37 page)

-45-

Admiral Fletcher woke up by degrees. A harsh chemical stench was the first thing he noticed. He wanted to turn his head, to get away from the smell, but he found that impossible to do.

“Where am I?”
was his first silent question. It was quickly followed by, “
What happened to me?”

He remembered Pa Kur’s interrogation. The New Man had gone berserk. He’d moved so fast, like a fly one tried to catch but couldn’t. Pa Kur had shot the Marines, shot the one-way glass and attacked.

Yes, now Fletcher recalled. He’d had a force blade, clicking it on and shoving the raw energy into the New Man. That should have been the end of it.

I thought I died
.

Fletcher opened his eyes. He saw blurry shapes over him. Were they operating? It seemed likely. Maybe it wasn’t time to wake up. Maybe he should close his eyes.

He did, opening them later in the dark. He tried to talk, but no one heard him. That was just as well. He was already tired and wanted to go back to sleep.

The third time he opened his eyes, a nurse smiled at him.

“Hello,” he whispered.

“Hello, Admiral,” she said.

“Is it bad?” he whispered.

Her smile became the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. “Not anymore, sir. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Is the fleet—?”

She put a warm hand on his arm. He loved her touch. He hoped she never let go.

“The doctor is coming. He can explain the situation better than I can, sir. Until then, just relax.”

Fletcher must have fallen asleep again, because the fourth time he woke up, the captain of
Antietam
stood by his bed.

She frowned down at him as he opened his eyes.

“Oh,” she said, stepping back. “I should go.”

“Hold it,” Fletcher said. He spoke a little louder than a whisper. This time, he had more clarity of mind. He realized that he had been out for a while. Doctors had operated on him. It had taken him time to recuperate.

The captain moved up to the bed.

Fletcher turned his head on the pillow. It took time. He turned back toward the captain, his eyes searching.

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, raise the bed so I’m not lying here like an invalid.”

The captain picked up a clicker, pressing it. The bed raised the admiral’s head and torso.

“That’s good,” Fletcher said. He was breathing harder, and his head began to hurt.

“I should call the doctor,” the captain said.

“No,” Fletcher said breathlessly. “I want a situation report, and I want it now.”

“We’re several jumps from the Thebes System,” the captain said, appearing nervous.

“What else?” Fletcher said. “What are you hiding?”

“Third Admiral Bishop is in nominal command of the Grand Fleet.”

“What?” Fletcher said in a hoarse voice. “I’m out a few days and that blue-nosed bastard grabs the reins. You never should have let that happen. That scoundrel, that dog of a Windsor League—”

“Here, now,” tall Earl Bishop said, stepping forward. “I might begin to resent those words.”

Fletcher was breathing hard, with a rattle in his throat.

A doctor hurried into the chamber, glancing at Fletcher, Bishop and then Fletcher again. “Everyone out,” he said.

“Belay that order,” Fletcher wheezed. “I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“Sir,” the doctor said.

“Stand down, I said,” Fletcher wheezed. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“I would oblige you, Doctor,” Bishop said, “but this is too important.”

“What in blazes are you babbling about?” Fletcher demanded.

“Admiral,” the doctor said. “You’re delirious.”

“I certainly am not,” Fletcher said. “I’m dead tired. I sound awful, but I am quite lucid. What is the matter? Why is Bishop here, to murder me in my sleep and solidify his hold on command?”

The Windsor League earl looked away, turning a crimson color.

“Sir,”
Antietam’s
captain said. “You have it all wrong, sir. It isn’t like that at all.”

Fletcher felt his heart flutter and his face grow cold.

“This is too much,” the doctor said.

“Give me a stimulant,” Fletcher said.

The doctor shook his head.

“Do it,” Bishop said.

Fletcher squinted at the tall earl. Was he being foolish? Would he kill himself if he accepted a stimulant? Maybe he should—

A hypo hissed as it injected a stimulant into him.

Fletcher stared at the offensive medical instrument and then at the doctor. The man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Bishop faced him again, putting his longer fingers on the cot’s rail. The earl didn’t wear his monocle. He looked better without it, more human.

“I’m afraid I’ve been something of an ass, Admiral,” Bishop said. “I’m here to admit it to you, and, well, to tell you I’m sorry.”

“What?” Fletcher said. Was he hearing right?

Bishop nodded. “I’m not often in the wrong, and when I am, I can maneuver my way out of trouble. You’ve been right all down the line, Admiral. I’m not too small of a noble to see that. The truth, sir, is that the fleet needs you and I need you. The men and women don’t trust me like they trust you. I’ve kept everyone in place and doing it as you said for some time. How you knew to attack those star cruisers in the Hades System I will never know. That and losing more hammerships showed me you know what you’re talking about when it comes to facing the New Men. They’re a cunning bunch, but you’re better than they are, Admiral.”

“Am I delirious?” Fletcher asked the doctor.

The doctor had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. “You heard correctly, Admiral.”

Fletcher eyed the tall, Windsor League noble. “Are we in trouble?”

“Possibly,” Bishop admitted.

“You need me to talk to the crews?”

“I do.”

“That’s it, is it?” Fletcher asked. “That’s why you’re here saying you’re sorry.”

“Now see here, old chum. I mean what I’ve been saying.”

“Stow it, Bishop,” Fletcher wheezed. “I’m not interested. We’re in a war and the New Men are near. Is that right?”

“I believe so,” Bishop said.

“Doctor,” the admiral said, “how long do I have to think clearly?”

The doctor checked his watch. “A half hour, perhaps, no more than forty-five minutes more. You’re still very fragile, sir.”

Fletcher pondered that. “Tell me the situation,” he told Bishop.

The earl cleared his throat. “As the captain said, we’re several jumps from the Thebes System.”

“Which means we’ve been advancing fast,” Fletcher said.

“We have,” Bishop said.

“You’ve been taking risks to get us here fast, too, haven’t you?”

“I don’t deny it.”

“How many ships have you lost so far?”

“Three battleships, fifteen cruisers and twenty-nine destroyers,” Bishop said.

“What the bloody Hell have you been doing with my fleet?” Fletcher shouted hoarsely.

The earl stiffened and his features turned crimson again.

“He did damage nine star cruisers,”
Antietam’s
captain said. “The New Men were tricky, though. They managed to—”

“Damaged?” Fletcher shouted. “He
damaged
a few enemy vessels, did he?”

“You must calm yourself, Admiral,” the doctor said. “If you keep this up, you’ll have a relapse.”

“How many star cruisers did you
destroy
?” Fletcher asked, panting as he did.

Bishop shook his head.

Fletcher gasped as he went limp, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel strength and energy leaving him. He couldn’t let himself get so angry. Bishop had lost forty-seven combat vessels. That was—

“I have found critical intelligence,” Bishop said. “I dare say this intelligence was worth the…the lost vessels.”

Fletcher stared at him. Could this be true? They needed something for all those losses.

“A Patrol frigate reached the Thebes System,” Bishop said. “The captain was a cagy fellow, managing to slip out, barely making it back to the Grand Fleet. I lost the three battleships and most of those destroyers making sure he reached us. It’s clear the New Men didn’t want the frigate bringing us its news. I gambled on the vessel, I admit it. Fortunately, the Patrol officer’s report was quite illuminating.”

“What did he see?” Fletcher whispered. “Tell me while I’m still awake.”

“The orbital space around Thebes III is crammed with haulers of every description,” Bishop said. “Every missing vessel of ‘C’ Quadrant must be there. Shuttles are bringing them cargos hourly. More haulers are entering orbit, while the full ones blast off for an inner system Laumer-Point that takes them out of ‘C’ Quadrant. In other words, they’re heading into the Beyond.”

“The haulers might be high-tailing it to the Throne World,” Fletcher whispered.

“I deem that very possible,” Bishop said. “Or they could be heading to Parthia or Odin.”

Fletcher recalled those systems, independent planets, the first to feel the New Men’s wrath.

“The Patrol frigate also recorded mass readings from Thebes III’s surface,” Bishop said. “This is wonderful news, Admiral. The readings can only be one thing: the missing peoples of ‘C’ Quadrant.”

Fletcher stared at the third admiral. “Yes,” he said, finally. “That is good news. Wonderful news, as you say.”

“There’s one more item,” Bishop said. “The enemy’s main fleet is concentrated there. The frigate captain counted fifty-seven star cruisers.”

Fletcher felt himself go cold.

“We still badly outnumber them,” Bishop said.

Fletcher grunted.

“I know you’re weak,” the third admiral said. “I wouldn’t ask this unless it was critical. Firstly, let me say that I understand better your caution concerning the New Men. It is well founded. You also may be the only one among us who can pierce some of their traps. The Grand Fleet needs your cunning, old chum. And it needs your words. If you are able, we need you to talk to the commanders as you did the day you faced down the enemy’s decoy forces. The officers—the men, too—trust you, Admiral. I lack their trust. I’ve lost too many ships for that. Morale is dropping. This is the moment to maneuver our way into the Thebes System and stop whatever the New Men are doing. This is the time to annihilate their invasion armada.”

“Fifty-seven star cruisers are not so easy to annihilate,” Fletcher said.

“Nine of them have sustained damage,” Bishop said, “some of that heavy damage.”

“That will help,” Fletcher admitted.

“What do you say, sir?”

Fletcher raised an arm. It took some doing. He rubbed his gritty eyes. He could feel his body’s weakness striving to pull him back under.

“I am weak,” the admiral said. “I can’t give that talk yet, not in any meaningful way.”

“It would probably kill you to do something like that now,” the doctor said.

“Here’s what we can do,” Fletcher told the third admiral. “I want situational reports. I’ll look for their traps when I’m awake. But for the day-to-day running of the Grand Fleet, you will continue to issue the commands.”

Bishop appeared troubled.

“You think that makes you too much of a figurehead?”

The tall earl shook his head. “I have miscalculated. The New Men are better than I expected. I don’t want to lose our side any more fighting ships. I may have disgraced my family house.”

Fletcher became thoughtful. He had lost his nerve after facing the New Men. The Lord High Admiral had seen something in him and had pushed him back into the arena. Maybe he had been too hard on Bishop. Maybe he had just seen the earl’s grasping ways, unable to see the good in the man.

“We’re going to work together,” Fletcher whispered.

Bishop stared at him.

“You’re going to win glory for your house by rolling up your sleeves and facing the toughest opponents in the universe. I’ll work on recovering faster and thinking deeply on the enemy’s dispositions. But I need you, Third Admiral, to hold this fleet together by using all your political cunning and maneuvering of people.”

Slowly, Bishop nodded.

“I’ll save my speech to the men for later,” Fletcher whispered. He could feel himself slipping under. He had already stared slurring his words. “Is that a deal?” he mumbled.

“It is, old chum,” Bishop said.

“Then get started,” Fletcher said.

“Yes, sir,” the earl said, saluting smartly before heading for the exit.

-46-

The next six days proved hectic beyond anything Maddox had known. Without Ludendorff’s vast knowledge and cunning, the process would have taken considerably longer.

The three smaller people—two men and one woman—were from the Kai-Kaus, the last surviving humans on the Dyson sphere. The three were the elders of approximately ten thousand humans left. During this time, Maddox had learned they were a technologically perceptive people, using Adok equipment. That meant they knew how to build and operate neutron and disruptor cannons and Adok shields. Their advanced weapons were all that stood in the way between them and annihilation from the endless Swarm hordes.

Port Admiral Hayes told Maddox what had happened to the flotilla in the Xerxes System. It was close to what the captain had expected. After many days of careful scouting, the flotilla had approached the Nexus. Just as had happened with
Victory
, a hyper-spatial tube had sucked them into the Dyson sphere system. There, the saucer-craft had indeed incapacitated the ships’ computer systems. Soon thereafter, gas canisters had attached to each Star Watch vessel, rendering the crews unconscious. After that, the port admiral couldn’t say what had happened. For weeks now, each of them had been in a separate glass cell.

The new lease on life caused everyone to work overtime with zeal.

During the first two days, the Kai-Kaus fought three major engagements against masses of Swarm soldiers on the sphere’s inner surface. The Swarm attacks never stopped. The last thousand Kai-Kaus died at their posts so the rest could escape into the substructure and the waiting spacecraft outside.

It was a bitter race loading people and high tech cargos onto
Victory
and the port admiral’s ships.

Ten thousand Kai-Kaus among the various spaceships meant
Victory
was near capacity for the first time under Star Watch’s control.

“It looks like Star Watch scientists won’t have to study you anymore,” Maddox told a revived Galyan on the bridge. “With the Kai-Kaus and their imports, we can start arming new starships with Adok technology as soon as we get back to Earth.”

“You are optimistic about defeating Commander Thrax Ti Ix here,” Galyan said.

“I’m hoping the bug’s lack of familiarity with its new ships will give us a winning edge.”

“The Swarm creature may have been studying the craft for some time.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Maddox said.

“I am monitoring the sphere while we speak,” Galyan said. “I know the port admiral also has his people watching it. The problem is that the sphere’s mass is simply too much. Thrax Ti Ix could come out on the other side. He might already be out, advancing to do battle with hundreds of starships under his control.”

“I have a plan,” Maddox said.

“The disruptor cannon can destroy some of the Dyson sphere,” Galyan said. “That will not be enough to demolish the entire structure quickly enough to destroy the Swarm’s new space navy.”

“I never thought it would.”

“You cannot mean a stand up battle against them,” Galyan said. “We lack the numbers to defeat them.”

“True,” Maddox said.

“I admit to bafflement, Captain,” the AI said. “What is your plan?”

“You and I are going to defeat them,” Maddox said, “along with some stolen Builder tech to help us.”

“You should have already informed me of my part of the task.”

Maddox raised his right arm. A wristband blinked on it. He tapped the band. “Have you found it, Professor?”

A tiny screen showed a sweaty Ludendorff. “It’s in my possession, but this is…” The older man shook his head.

“I want you on
Victory
on the double, Professor,” Maddox said. “I don’t know how much longer we have. Can you be here in an hour?”

“Make it two,” Ludendorff said.

“No, make it a half-hour.” The captain had noticed Valerie waving to him. She pointed at a screen. He nodded, seeing strange spaceships easing out of a vast opening in the sphere’s outer skin.

“Is the Swarm coming through?” Ludendorff asked from the wristband.

“Yes, Professor,” the captain said. “Our time has just run out. Get here as fast as you can.”