To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well) (5 page)

“It was a ship of some
kind,” called out the Tactical Officer, looking at his instruments, a look of
shock still etched on his face.

“A warship?” asked
Captain Lashan, his eyes wide as he looked first to the Tactical Officer, then
to the Admiral.

“Too small for any kind
of warship I’ve heard of,” said the Tactical Officer, looking at his holo
screen.

“What did they do to
the rest of the force?” asked the Captain in a panicked voice.

“Be kind of hard to
tell what they did while moving in hyper,” said the Admiral, raising an eyebrow
as he looked at his Flag Captain.

“But, if we drop back
to normal space and they come back,” said the man, sweat breaking on his brow.

“Do you have a fix on
that ship?” the Admiral asked the Tactical Officer.

“As best I can, given
our pseudo-velocity,” said the man.  “She moving away, decelerating at two
thousand gravities, and curving her vector.  Best guess is that she’s moving to
attack the second task force when they come back to normal space.”

“There you have it,
Captain,” said the Admiral, giving a man he now thought of as a coward a
sneer.  “Please drop out of Alcubierre, and give us a look at what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir,” said the
Captain, giving the order to the helm.  Within moments the stars to front and
rear returned to normal as the ship stopped dead in space.

“Send a signal on a
tight beam to the other force,” ordered the admiral.  “Hopefully they’ll get it
when they come back to normal space.”

“If the enemy doesn’t
hit them first,” said the Tactical Officer, shaking his head.

“We’ll just have to
pray that doesn’t happen,” said the Admiral, “and adjust our plans as if it
will.”

“And who in the hell
was that on that ship?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking around the bridge. 
“The language sounded kind of familiar.  And that yell at the end.”

“Feeding it into the
translator now,” said the Com Officer, working his board.  “OK, wait a second.”

“There is small
particle debris behind us,” called out one of the sensor techs.  The viewer
switched to behind, where the tactical display showed a radar image of a cloud
of fragments swiftly expanding.

“We also have two ships
motionless in space behind us,” called out another tech, and the viewer
switched from first a ship sitting lifeless against the mass of stars in
backdrop, to one that was a swarm of people and robots frantically making
repairs.

“I have a match on the
language,” said the Com Officer, looking up from his board.  “Colloquial
English, circa 2100, old Earth.”

“No wonder it sounded
so familiar,” said the Captain, nodding his head.

Yes
¸ thought Gerasi,
nodding.  English had been the language of the Old Empire, the one that had
fallen over five thousand years before.  The Nation’s own language was based on
it, though it had diverged quite a bit since the fall.

“Computer thinks the
speaker originated in the Southern United States, as that Empire was called.”

“Amazing,” said the
Admiral, looking at a viewer that was showing a picture of the enemy ship on
closest approach.  “And that yell she let out.”

“No references in the
data banks,” said the com.  “Frightening though, when coming from something
streaking by at point seven light.  And I’m receiving a transmission from
Manta
. 
She suffered superficial damage to the ship, but major to her drive.  They are
expediting repairs.”

“And what about the
other ship?”

“
Skate
, sir,”
said the tech, looking at the viewer, which was back with a view of the ship
dead in space.  “Major damage and casualties, but her Captain thinks he can get
her moving again in a day or so.”

A day or so,
thought the Admiral. 
“I’d
hoped to be out of this area and back to the base in less time than that.  So
should I leave someone behind to protect her, or just take the crew off and
scuttle?

“Where do you think she
came from?” asked the Captain, interrupting the Admiral’s train of thought.

Valaris Midas would not
have interrupted my thoughts
.  The Admiral shot a glare at the Flag
Captain, while remembering that a good command team was like a marriage.  And
he couldn’t see this one ending in any other manner than divorce.

“She came from the
Donut
,”
growled Gerasi at his subordinate, with a look that told the man his Admiral
thought him an idiot.  “Where the hell else do you think she came from, with
that kind of tech?”

“Then maybe we should
attack the station,” said the Captain, squaring his shoulders and trying to
look brave.

Gerasi shook his head
in disgust and turned away from the officer.  He thought of the attack he had
carried out on the huge station two years before.  The thing was so large that
he was sure he could do no critical damage to it.  And it had weapons that could
wipe out his fleet, if given a chance.  He had barely been able to get in close
and board using a ruse, to capture what he needed and go.  Losing almost half
his ships and over half his crew in the process.

“No,” he said, turning
back to his Flag Captain.  “We will not be attacking that thing while I am
here.  We will operate out here on the fringes.”

“And if they send more
ships?”

“If they had them, or
the crew to man them, I think we would have been swarmed under.  Com,” he said,
walking up behind the com tech.  “Give
Manta
orders to stay with
Skate
. 
She is to escort her sister back to base when both are capable.  Meanwhile,” he
said, walking back to his chair, “get us underway and catch up to the fleet.”

The Helm looked back at
the Captain, waiting for the order to come through the chain of command.

“You heard the man,”
said the Captain, plopping down in his own chair.  “Engage the drive.”

The helmsman nodded and
turned back to his board.  Ahead a hole of darkness grew as the drive swallowed
up space before the photons riding on it could reach the ship.  And behind a
lesser darkness grew as
Orca
outran the pursuing photons.

Chapter Five

Nation of Humanity Directive 4655-1.  Orders to
the Fleet.  You are directed to move your ships to the vicinity of Galactic
Coordinates 00:00:00, and there to take control of all inhabitable worlds in
the location known as the Supersystem.  After taking control you are to
eliminate all non-humans from all inhabitable worlds with dispatch.  Said
aliens may be used in construction projects and other work as deemed necessary,
as long as the final result is their termination, that the worlds of the
Supersystem may become fit habitations for humanity.  Office of the Church of
Humanity.

“Unknown ships
appearing to starboard,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“What the hell,” cursed
Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, sitting up in his bed and jumping to the
floor.  He left his day cabin still in his casual uniform, boots left behind on
the floor near the bed.

“Red alert,” called out
the voice of the ship’s computer over the intercom.

“What do we have?”
asked the Admiral, walking onto his flag bridge.

“Twelve ships just
appeared out of nowhere,” said Lieutenant Commander Klish, the Flag Officer,
gesturing toward the screen.  “They appear to be Nation battleships.  Range,
twelve light seconds.”

They could have come in
a lot closer
,
thought the Admiral, studying the twelve ships that were accelerating toward
him in normal space. 
We couldn’t have seen them coming in with that damned
drive of theirs.

Alcubierre drive was
dangerous, and ships could not see what was in front of them while they were
using it.  It was especially hazardous when initiating combat, as a ship was
likely to drop out of drive to find itself surrounded.  The inertialess warp
bubble drive the Kingdom of Surya used was a lot safer, and they could actually
see what was around them while in the drive.  Added to that was the fact that
the warp bubble drive could get a ship up to a much greater velocity than the
Alcubierre, though it took time to accelerate up to any kind of useful star
travelling velocity.  The Alcubierre could go from a standing stop to pseudo
hyper-light in an instant.

“All ships report
weapons hot and drives ready,” said the Com Officer from her station.

“Well, that’s a
relief,” said the Admiral with a grin, knowing he would have the hide of any
captain who had not been able to get his ship ready for combat.  He studied the
formation of the enemy ships, which had come in a wall formation, probably so
none would endanger another when their space destroying drives were active.  He
had the same number of vessels, of approximately similar size and armaments. 
He could maneuver much quicker than they could, but they could, under the
proper circumstances, escape using their hyper capabilities.

“Why did they come in
from this angle?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking up from her board.  “They
could have made a straight vector attack from their base system, and we still
wouldn’t have seen them coming.”

“I wonder,” said the
Admiral, his eyes locked on the viewer.  “Do you fanatics play some game, to
catch me unawares?  Then why turn off your drives at such a distance, when you
sure could have come in closer.”

“They’re firing,”
yelled the Tactical Officer.  The lasers hit just before she spoke, the
particle beams not long after, while the images of missiles leaving the enemy
ships appeared among those vessels ten seconds later. 

The Admiral had to
admit that their fire control was very good if they could unleash all their
weapons systems in such a short span.  Then there was no time for admiration. 
“All ships, open fire,” he called out, watching as the missiles moved his way. 
The
Danaus
shook as she accelerated missiles from her tubes.  Moments
later the bright circles of fusion fire shown on the screen as the missiles
sped toward the enemy.

“We have one hundred
and twenty inbound,” called out the Tactical Officer.  “Same number outbound. 
Wait.  Two forty inbound.  We’re firing another spread to match them.”

“Why did they commit to
a slugging match,” said the Admiral under his breath.  “It makes no sense.” 
The best strategy for an equally matched enemy would have been to take him on
near their own station, where they would receive the support.  Instead, the Suryan
station would soon open fire, and the enemy would be outgunned by a slight
margin.  And a slight margin was all that was needed in space.

“We have more ships,”
yelled out the Tactical Officer.  “Coming in from astern at nine light
seconds.”

“Dammit,” cursed the
Admiral as the equation of battle flipped in his mind.  Now he was
significantly outnumbered, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about
it but fight and die.  “Target those ships with missiles, and continue to
concentrate on that first group with the lasers and particle beams.”

“Yes, sir,” said the
Tactical Officer in a voice that held little hope.

What else can we do?
thought the commander
of the Surya task force.  He wouldn’t surrender his people to those fanatics. 
That would be a fate worse than death.  So death was the only choice.

*     *     *

“We have them,” called
out Captain Dimi Lashan when the task force came out of Alcubierre drive.  The
image of the enemy force, and the friendly force beyond them, was centered on
the screen.  The enemy space station was to the left side of the viewer, just
above the rounded outline of the world it orbited.

“It would seem so,”
said Admiral Gerasi, standing in front of the view with his hands behind his
back.  He was in full battle armor, as were all the members of the crew, but
his helmet was still on the attachment of his seat back.  He saw no use in
being uncomfortable during the approach, but now they were about to enter
combat, and the Admiral hurried back to his seat, which was configuring itself
into an acceleration couch.

“Attack plan Delta,” he
ordered as he lay back on the couch and readied himself for something he didn’t
like.

“Attack plan Delta,
aye,” called out the Tactical Officer and Helmsman at the same time.

The acceleration cut in,
first a gee, then several, then building up.  The Nation’s inertial
compensators were still primitive, though much more advanced than prior to the
looting of the
Donut
.  Only able at this point to handle about twenty
gravities, the excess weight still piled up, and the Admiral found himself
gasping for air as the force of eight gravities pushed him back in the chair. 
The enemy could pull many more with their inertialess drive, but not enough to
get away from his already high velocity ships.  So he was confident enough in
the capabilities of his force.

“Missiles firing,”
croaked the Tactical Officer through lungs that barely functioned.  “It’s
back,” called out the Tactical Officer a moment later, and Gerasi pulled
himself up enough to look at the screen, where the vector arrow of their recent
visitor was showing, pointing right at his other task force.

*     *     *

“What the hell is
that,” yelled out the Tactical Officer of the
Danaus,
pointing at the
viewer.  A vector arrow just appeared on the screen, about three hundred
thousand kilometers from the Nation task force to their front.  More vector
arrows appeared on the screen, a quartet, all accelerating at impossible rates
toward the enemy.  One hit a ship dead center, and the large battleship broke up
in the massive explosion.  The other three were intercepted before striking
their targets, computers and lasers able to compensate for the swift motion of
the incoming weapons.  One detonated close enough to one of the Nation warships
to cause considerable damage.  One more Nation ship flared in several places
and started a tumble in space away from its companions, hit by light amp or
particle beam weapons.  Within six seconds the space ship had passed the Nation
task force and was accelerating away.

“She’s traveling over
fifty thousand KPS,” called out the Tactical Officer in a disbelieving voice. 
The incoming laser and particle beam fire from the Nation ships had ceased as
they tried to hit the darting, weaving enemy that was heading away from them. 
“And decelerating at three thousand gravities.”

“Three thousand
gravities,” yelled out the Helm, her voice rising.  “That’s impossible.”

“Not for the
Ancestors,” said the Admiral.  “How long till she kills her velocity and comes
back?”

“Twenty seven minutes to
kill her velocity,” said the Navigator, fingers flying over his board. 
“Another twenty seven to return.”

“So they’re out of the
fight for the next hour or so,” said the Admiral, looking at the enemy ships. 
“And we’re still in it.”

*     *     *

“The damned thing
disappeared,” yelled the Tactical Officer on board the flagship
Dolphin
.

“How?’ yelled back
Commodore Valaris Midas, who was now the task force commander with the complete
destruction of the battleship
Eel
with all hands.  And one of the ships
in his own division was drifting in space after the near miss by another
weapon.

“I have no idea,
Commodore,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders.  “They have some incredible
stealth for us to have missed them coming in.  But we had a good track and lock
on her leaving.  We should still be seeing her.”

And that was what the
Admiral was trying to warn us about
, thought the Commodore, remembering the
garbled grav wave message that had appeared on their com system as soon as they
came out of Alcubierre.  Of course the warning didn’t really match the reality.

“Another message coming
in from the Admiral,” called out the Com Tech, and then Gerasi’s face was back
on the screen.

“That ship is extremely
dangerous,” said the Admiral, his eyes blazing out of the screen.  “Take all
caution, and use all resources to destroy it.”

“Acknowledged,” said
Midas, knowing that his words would take twenty seconds to reach the Admiral. 
“We…”

“She’s back,” yelled
the Tactical Officer, and Midas looked over to the side viewer to see that the
red vector arrow had reappeared.  And another four smaller arrows had separated
and were moving toward his force.

“How in the Hells did
she do that?” yelled Midas, watching as vector arrows left his task force and
crawled toward the enemy with pitiful velocity numbers beneath them.  The
incoming missiles had numbers that were anything but pitiful, moving at fifty
thousand kilometers a second while pulling thirty thousand gravities of
acceleration.

“All ships,” he yelled,
hoping that his order would actually mean something.  “All weapons fire at
those missiles.”

Fast they might be, but
the battleships could still track them, and lasers could still intersect them. 
Those beams struck out at light speed, and missed as the missiles started
moving in evasive patterns, while strong jamming blanked the tracking systems.

“What the Hells,”
yelled Midas, seeing the tactical screen turn to a mass of static, with the red
vector arrows of missiles jumping all over the place.

By chance one of the
lasers still struck a missile, and it turned into an expanding pinpoint of eye
hurting brilliance.  Another missile got struck in the blast and detonated as
well.  That left two still heading for a target, and fortunately for the Nation
task force they both picked on the same ship.  Either warhead would have
demolished that battleship.  Two doubly demolished it, which meant naught to
the men who died.  They really didn’t care if they were blown to molecules or
to atoms.  The effect to them was the same.

Midas swore as he watched
one of his ships blow up, then swore again as his own ship shuddered and
warning klaxons sounded.

“We were hit with a
particle beam,” shouted the Tactical Officer.  “Minor damage to hull systems. 
Electromag field down over…”

The ship shuddered again,
this time a much deeper shake that told of a pounding on the armored hull.

“Antimatter in that
one,” yelled the Tactical Officer.

“Major damage to decks
one through ten,” called out the officer sitting at damage control.

A woman’s voice came
out of the com with a chilling warbling yell, and beam weapons continued to fly
both ways as the ship closed.  Beams weapons which never missed from one side,
and always did from the other.

And then the enemy
vessel was again past, lasers and particle beams striking from her stern as she
moved at random vectors while fleeing the ships of the Nation.

“She’s gone again,”
called out the Tactical Officer.

“I can see that, you
idiot,” said Midas under his breath.  “But where the Hells has she gone?”

“It has to be a wormhole,”
said the Navigation Officer.  “It’s from the
Donut
, as far as we know. 
And that thing is used to generate wormholes.”

“You must be correct,”
said the Commodore, a tight smile on his face.  “Did you get a fix on their
point of appearance?”