Winds of Vengeance (10 page)

Erika West followed her number two out of the low doorway. “I don’t get up here enough anymore. It was a good excuse to come up here, poke around. Keep everyone on their toes.”

Frette turned and looked back at West. “You never were a good liar, Erika.”

West frowned. “At least not to you.” She smiled weakly. “I’m just worried about this mission, you know that. Something is wrong out there, more than some asteroid collision or system breakdown.” She paused. “Promise me you will be careful out there.”

Frette smiled. “I will. You know me.”

West almost laughed. “Yes, that’s what’s worrying me.”

West and Frette had both been serving officers during the old fleet’s journey, Frette as a first officer aboard several different ships and West as one of Admiral Compton’s key flag officers. Though they had served in many of the same battle zones, the two had never met, not until Max Harmon and his team had returned from the First Imperium home world, courtesy of Frette’s daring—it would have been called foolhardy if it hadn’t worked—atmospheric landing.

They had become close friends in the years since, and now they were the top two officers in the republic’s fleet. They worked seamlessly together, never disagreeing as far as anyone could see. There were even rumors the two were lovers, though with neither of them addressing the gossip, it could only remain conjecture, at least to those outside their inner circle.

“I can handle whatever is out there, Erika. You know that…or at least I hope you do.” Frette walked across the landing bay, West moving alongside. The techs and other naval staff in the bay snapped nervously to attention as the two senior officers moved through.

West’s expression had morphed back into a concerned frown. “It’s not you. You know that. But any of us can fall. My God, I never really believed Admiral Compton could die.” Her voice cracked slightly. Thirty years later and Compton’s death still hurt. “But he did.”

“I’m concerned about what’s out there too. But what can it be? A rogue First Imperium squadron? The last ones that attacked Earth Two were less than a dozen ships. If that’s what we’re facing, the task force can handle it.” Frette slipped through the door, out into the hallway. The exterior wall was clear reinforced hyper-polycarbonate. She stopped and looked out. There were a dozen ships within view, including a hulking monster partially visible on the right. She gestured toward it.

“That’s why I’m taking
Compton
.” The republic’s newest battleship was the largest vessel mankind had ever constructed, almost eight kilometers in length and bristling with every advanced weapon Dr. Cutter and the Mules had managed to design from First Imperium tech.

“I’d feel better if we’d had time for a longer shakedown cruise. She’s the best we’ve got, but with all those AI and robot controlled systems…” West had let her voice trail off. She was a dinosaur, she knew that, but the truth was she only trusted computerization and automation so far. If she—or her second in command—was going into battle, she wanted solid, trained crews in key positions, loyal personnel ready to fight, to give their all. But the republic was short on population, and reducing crew sizes had been essential to maintaining a significant fleet. West had gone along with it all, somewhat reluctantly, but
Compton
had reached a point that strained her acceptance.

An Alliance Yorktown-class battleship like
Midway
had carried a complement of more than twelve hundred spacers.
Compton’s
crew numbered one hundred sixty-two…and fifty-eight of them were pilots and technicians for the fighter squadrons. And
Compton
outmassed one of the old Yorktowns by a factor of six.

There had been a push to eliminate fighters altogether when the final designs had been approved, but West had insisted, even invoking the memory of Greta Hurley—and enlisting the full-throated support of Mariko Fujin, who was not only the president’s wife but also the greatest living veteran of the old fighter corps. In the end, the design team had reluctantly added a dozen birds to the ship’s specs.

“She’s fine, Erika. And her crew is the best we’ve got, handpicked from across the fleet.”

“The crew is great…what there is of it.” West turned and looked at Frette. She knew her second had more faith in AIs than she did. Practically everyone did.

“Okay, stop. I’m taking close to a quarter of the fleet with me. I’ll be just fine. I’ll bring
Hurley
back…” She paused, her voice sinking, becoming darker. “Or I’ll find out what happened to her.”

West nodded. “You do that.”

Frette moved closer to West, but then she turned and looked around, noting the traffic in the corridor. She stepped back and saluted. “Thank you, Admiral West.”

West paused for a moment and then returned the salute. “The task force is yours, Admiral Frette.” The two paused, both looking uncomfortable. Then West nodded and walked down the corridor.

*    *    *

“Mr. President…thank you for seeing me.” Terrance Compton II stood nervously at the entrance to Harmon’s office.

“Come in, Terrance. Close the door.” Harmon had been staring down at a large tablet on his desk, but now he looked up at his visitor. “Sit down. And, for God’s sake, save the ‘Mr. President’ nonsense. You know my name.”

“Thank you, Max.” Terrance moved across the room, slowly. He was anxious and it showed.

“What can I do for you, Terrance?”

Compton paused. He suspected Harmon thought he was in some sort of trouble, that he’d come again to ask the president’s help in pulling him out of some mess. The idea that one of the people closest to him in the world would have little reason to suspect any other cause behind his visit cut at him. He’d been a colossal fuck up, and now he saw it all…and it turned his stomach. He knew he’d let Harmon down, just as he had his mother—and the memory of his father. But now he realized he’d let himself down most of all. It was a painful realization, but a vital one.

“There is no easy way to say this. I have been thinking about things, about my life.”

Harmon’s face shifted, a hint of surprise slipping onto his features. Clearly he had not expected what he was hearing.

“I want to do something meaningful, Max. I know I’m a poor version of his son, but perhaps it’s not too late for me to avoid being a total loss.”

“Don’t say things like that, Terrance. You had some problems…we all do. It doesn’t define you.”

“I have allowed it to define me. And while I appreciate your efforts to gloss over the dissolute nature of my life to date, I ask you not to. Don’t let me off the hook. Change has to begin with accepting responsibility.”

Harmon’s face morphed into an expression of full-blown surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Terrance put his hand up.

“Please, before you say anything, let me finish. I know you have little reason to trust me, to believe in me…but I’m asking you to give me another chance. Not in terms of appointments or opportunities…but another chance with you. I know I have your love…you have always given me that. You’ve been a second father to me. But now I want your respect. And your trust. I know I need to earn them back, and I am willing to do whatever it takes. If you’ll give me the chance.”

Harmon stood up and walked around the desk, sitting again in the chair next to Terrance. “Your father was special to me, Terrance, in a way I doubt I could adequately describe. He was like a father. And despite what you might think of yourself, I see much of him in you.” Harmon paused. “I won’t tell you I was happy about how you’ve chosen to live your life…but then I never really blamed you either. We had been on Earth Two less than a year when you were born. We were still under martial law, still struggling to build shelters, rudimentary industry. We had just come through a struggle that had cost us two-thirds of our numbers. The people were exhausted, scared. They needed any inspiration they could get, a symbol of the future. Your father had been the undisputed hero of the fleet, the one man everyone looked to as a savior. His death was a disaster for morale…and they looked to fill that massive void. Then you were born.”

Terrance sat, listening. He’d long resented the pressure that had been placed on him, lashed out at the constant exposure, thousands of people prying into his life, pushing him. He’d known everything Harmon was telling him, and now, listening to it all again, the old frustrations stirred.

“I know it was hard on you, Terrance. Perhaps no child, no young man who ever lived could have handled it any better than you did. I should have shielded you better, protected you. But the fleet, and then the republic, needed you. I am at fault, as much as you, and perhaps more. So if you are serious, let the past be the past…and let us move forward from here.”

Terrance looked over at Harmon and smiled. “I would like that, Max. Very much. And you have my word…I am serious. I want to do whatever I can to help. I want my life to count for something.” He paused. “I want to make you proud…and my father too.”

*    *    *

The planet was windswept, its surface battered by constant, vicious storms, its crust torn by endless volcanic activity. Pools of searing hot magma erupted constantly from underground reservoirs, lava flows pouring down the hillsides, great geysers of sulfur-infused clouds erupting into the sky. The world was inhospitable to say the least, and certainly no place humans—or any creatures of similar biochemistry and make up—could survive, at least without massive technology deployed just to sustain life. But no people lived there now, only machines. And those machines had a purpose.

Planet Z. That was the closest human translation to what the place was called. It was more of a designation than a name, a reference point to mark it in catalogs of stars and worlds. It was the kind of place that was easily forgotten, one more uninhabitable world, devoid of mineral resources valuable enough to warrant its difficult development. But it was ideal for one purpose, and it had been discovered and adapted for that use millennia before.

The Regent had discovered Planet Z. Its probes had entered the system. They had scanned many worlds in dozens of systems, but they stopped when they entered orbit around this world. It was exactly what the Regent was seeking, a planet rich with natural energy sources. For the Regent was looking for a place to produce antimatter, the most powerful substance known to science. The Imperium’s ships used antimatter in their starship drives, and their most powerful weapons were armed with antimatter warheads.

The Regent sent more ships, freighters, support craft. They landed, and massive construction robots poured forth from their cargo bays. They tore into Planet Z, digging deeply into its crust. They built power facilities everywhere, drawing on the energy of the world’s tectonic shifts, on its volcanic activity, on the strength of its wild and unpredictable storms. Every stable meter of the surface was covered with panels that absorbed the energy from the planet’s sun. Every watt of power that could be collected was poured into the vast, underground accelerators, great chambers hundreds of kilometers in length. These constructions consumed massive amounts of energy, almost incalculable. And every bit of it was channeled to a single purpose. The production and storage of antimatter.

Antimatter wasn’t difficult to produce…even the humans had known the process for several centuries. The difficulty was producing the enormous amounts of energy required. It was well beyond human technology…but not that of the First Imperium.

There had once been such planetary antimatter factories located throughout the imperium. But Planet Z was the mightiest of them all, a planet almost unique in its energy production potential. Its massive generators ran night and day for thousands of years, and the giant magnetic bottles holding the antimatter were filled to capacity. Even as more were built, they too were filled, until Z became the greatest store of the precious substance in the galaxy.

Then word had come. The Regent had been destroyed…and its replacement had activated. The lesser AI controlling Planet Z prepared…it waited for orders from its new master. In short order ships began coming, new warships, produced by the Regent’s successor. They came to Z, and they filled their fuel stores with the precious antimatter. They replaced primitive fusion weapons with antimatter warheads…and then they left, back to join the newly assembling imperial fleet.

Then word came again. It hadn’t been long in the reckoning of the AI that had stewarded Z for thousands of centuries, merely thirty years measured in the revolution of Homeworld around its sun. The enemy had been contacted, those who had destroyed the Regent. It was time. Time for the war of vengeance.

More ships arrived, great battleships, entering orbit, taking up defensive positions alongside the arrays of armed satellites that had long protected Planet Z. No risks could be taken. The humans seemed weak, illogical biologics who should have fallen easily to imperial arms. Yet they had survived…and prevailed. They had destroyed the Regent. They could not be underestimated again. And Z was the most important location in all of space now, save only for Planet X, the home of the Regent’s successor.

The AI controlling Z activated the defense protocols. Power flowed into the armed satellites. The newly arrived ships were integrated into the planet’s defense net. The scanners at the warp gates, and at points throughout the station, went to wartime footings, searching endlessly, looking for any signs of the enemy.

The Regent’s successor had been clear. Its predecessor had succumbed to overconfidence. That mistake would not be repeated. However weak the humans appeared in analytical review, they would be considered extremely dangerous at all times.

The AI controlling the system understood perfectly, and it responded in kind. War had come.

Chapter Eight

Coded Message from H2 to Hieronymus Cutter

Hieronymus, I have attempted to obtain information from the other Mules, but I have been unsuccessful. I believe there is something taking place, some activity or plan unknown to me, but I have little to offer but my conjecture.