Winds of Vengeance (24 page)

Erika, I have included a private message to you, attached to this communique.

Main Engineering Deck, E2S Compton

System G-43, Twelve Transits from Earth Two

Earth Two Date 11.29.30

“I want those valves replaced, all of them.” Ang Minh stood in front of the main engineering display, staring at the complex schematic it displayed. He was alone in the room, and he was talking not to one of his technicians, but to the ship’s main AI. He’d sent his human staff back to their quarters an hour before with orders to get six hours of uninterrupted sleep. They were strung out and exhausted from forty-eight straight hours of damage control duty, and he was impressed with what they had accomplished…but they needed rest. He knew he was a bit prejudiced toward his actual human engineers. In truth,
Compton’s
repair bots, directed by the AI as much as by him, had done most of the repair work on the flagship. But Minh’s handful of men and women had done their share too.

Admiral Frette had expressed her concern for his own well-being, but he’d brushed her aside with a vague promise to get some sleep ‘soon.’ Then he downed another heavy dose of stims and went right back to work. He’d taken far too much of the stuff, vastly more even than the heavy doses that carried dire health warnings. But Minh didn’t care if he ended up needing a liver regeneration…he was going to have
Compton
one hundred percent operational before the fleet found more First Imperium forces.

And when the valves are replaced, she’ll be damned close to one hundred percent, like the day she launched from the space dock…

“The valves are all currently within design specifications. I urge you to consider whether this is a necessary repair.” The AI spoke softly, matter-of-factly.

“I said I want them replaced. Design specs are one thing, and combat is another. And if we go into battle again with these in place we’re stuck with them until the fight is over. And if one of them fails in the middle of combat, this ship is screwed.”

“Your analysis is valid, but your caution seems extreme. A full replacement will leave us with insufficient backup parts for possible future damage.”

“My caution is common sense, something you’d understand if you were flesh and blood, and if a valve failure could lead to your death…and not just your erasure.” Minh didn’t know what it was inside him that drove him to argue with the AI, to insult it whenever possible. He never got the response he wanted, and the whole thing was a waste of time and effort. But still he kept doing it.

“Your attempt to insult me is understandable, particularly in view of your stress level and lack of sleep. My statements and analyses are intended to assist you in the decision-making process, not to argue with you. In the end the decision on how to proceed is yours to make.”

Minh sighed. “Then let’s begin the replacement. I’ll have to get the go ahead from the admiral first. We’ll need to shut the reactor down for at least an hour.”

“Sixty-seven minutes, assuming a median expectation for variables.”

“Okay, get everything ready. Pull the replacements from the cargo holds, and program the repair bots.” He’d picked his timing for the valve repairs, while his people were on their rest period. Replacing reactor valves was a job for the bots, not for live engineers. The radiation inside the reactor was just too much of a danger for human techs.

“All maintenance bots are ready to go. Prepared to initiate reactor shutdown sequence on receipt of command authorization.”

Minh tapped his com unit. “Admiral Frette…we’re ready to go down here.”

“Very well, Commander.” Frette paused. “Entering fleet command authorization now.” There were another few seconds of silence. Then: “Do your best to make this quick, Commander.”

Minh held back a sigh. “Yes, Admiral. As quickly as possible.”

Without flooding the ship with radiation a hundred times the lethal level…

*    *    *

“Captain, Commander Willis reports all repairs completed.
Starfire
is one hundred percent operational.

Josie Strand was standing next to her chair, as she often did instead of sitting in it. She felt a wave of relief at the report.
Starfire
hadn’t been badly damaged in the fight, but Strand’s OCD tended to run wild when her ship was in less than perfect order. Her instructors at the Academy had all said the same thing about her…she had all the intensity, perfectionism, and laser focus of the best ship captains…but maybe too much of them. She’d never slept more than four hours a night, even as a child, and now she was lucky to get about two and a half. She had enormous difficulty turning down her intensity, and she’d been told dozens of times she would burn herself out one day.

“Very well, Commander. Give Commander Willis my congratulations.” Her ship’s damage had been light, mostly minor burnouts spread over dozens of systems. Still, she knew it had taken a lot of work to get everything back up to full specs, and she was surprised how quickly Willis and his people had managed it.

Strand stood erect, almost at attention, looking around the bridge. She was pleased with her people, with how they had conducted themselves in their first battle. There had been no panic, no indiscipline. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought she was watching a group of long service veterans in action.

As if you had any idea what to expect. You were as much a cherry as the rest of them…

Strand had studied the history of war, especially the recent accounts of the fleet’s flight from the Barrier to Earth Two. She’d read the chronology of events, and the analyses of the officers who’d written the histories…but mostly she’d focused on the journals, on the accounts of the men and women who had been there, in the heat of battle. She tended to distrust summaries and histories written after the fact.

Josie Strand believed in being prepared for whatever she faced, and she’d done everything possible to ready herself for the experience of battle…even though she’d often doubted if she would ever see real conflict. For years, the republic had been at peace, without so much as a potential enemy out there in the emptiness of space. But now she’d seen war up close, felt the fear of the enemy. And she’d handled it, brought her ship and crew through it with flying colors. Only now, feeling the relief at that, did she realize how much the doubt had weighed on her.

Strand looked up at the display.
Starfire
was moving along with the fleet formation, traveling at just under 0.1c. The force had been accelerating since transiting into the system, but then the order came to shut down all engines.
Compton
had to put her reactor down to complete repairs, and Admiral Frette wanted to keep the fleet together in a tight formation. They were still moving toward the warp gate during the shutdown, they just weren’t accelerating or decelerating.

The officers and spacers whose writings Strand had studied had much to say about tactics, about handling fear and uncertainty. But the journals and reports were also full of accounts of the discomfort of space combat, of struggling to concentrate under six gees of pressure, or worse, under 30g, drugged and covered in goo in the old tanks.

Technology had spared her generation such indignities, and the inertial dampeners and other new developments had banished much of the awkwardness from space combat. She wondered if the relative comfort was an edge to spacers her age…or if it made her comrades weaker, less capable than those who had come before and excelled under such difficult circumstances.

Battles were still long…indeed, more efficient engines and reactors allowed fleets to emphasize maneuver, and she knew a fight had the potential to last for days as ships zipped past each other and then decelerated to come around for another pass. But even then, the application of First Imperium knowledge had aided in the development of a new generation of stimulants, safer and more effective than those used thirty years before. The basic equation hadn’t changed…you could still get strung out and suffer a litany of health issues from stimulant overuse. It just took longer.

“Captain,
Compton
reports her repairs are complete. She will be reactivating her reactor shortly, and all ships are ordered to prepare to resume acceleration at 30g.”

“Very well. Relay the order to engineering. Prepare for 30g.”

She stared across the bridge at the main display. The G-43 system was profoundly uninteresting. Nothing but a red giant star, which had engulfed and incinerated any planets it had ever had. Nothing else. No asteroids, not even much in the way of comets and meteors. Just vast empty space.

But it wasn’t where she was that consumed Strand’s mind. It was where she—all of them—were going that had her attention. Into the unknown. In search of an enemy as deadly as one pulled from mythology.

She wasn’t a cherry anymore, she was a combat veteran, at least technically. But she’d fought in just a single battle, one where the outcome had never been in doubt. For all she and her people had come through it well, she still marveled at the strength of those from the lost fleet, the men and women who had gone into combat again and again, against insurmountable odds…and somehow prevailed.

Be careful what you think…the same thing may be waiting for you out there…

She held her stare on the screen, her mind racing ahead, imagining the systems still to come…and whatever might be waiting there.

*    *    *

The probe was silent, operating in full stealth mode. It had watched the enemy transit into the system as expected. The arrival of the enemy on this time frame was the highest probability outcome.

It had been left behind by the advance force as it moved forward, and it had monitored the entry of the enemy ships into the system. The passive scanners provided limited data, but it seemed likely from the presence and size of the enemy fleet that the advance force had been destroyed. This was no problem, indeed, it was not entirely unexpected.

The enemy ships were acting as expected, pushing forward along the course of their original scout vessel. The probe’s instructions were clear. To remain in place, near the primary, utilizing the intense radiation to enhance its stealth capabilities. Such parameters offered little chance to obtain meaningful data on the composition of the enemy fleet, but that wasn’t the probe’s purpose. It was only important to track the general movements, to confirm that the vessels were indeed following the projected course, that they were proceeding toward the trap that had been set for them.

The probe recorded the data, preparing it for transmission to Vengeance One. But its com units remained silent. It was to send its report only after the enemy vessels had transited out of the system.

Then it would carry out its last directive. It would self-destruct, leaving no trace that it had been there, that it had served its role in trapping the enemy, monitoring them as they moved toward their destruction.

Chapter Twenty

Victory City Security Forces

Report of Recent Activity

There have been seven incidents of vandalism in the past week. Six of the seven have involved damage to public facilities in the form of graffiti. The content of the messages strongly suggests this is the work of a radical group of Tanks. The lack of any evidence from surveillance systems implies the involvement of an individual of considerable ability in terms of hacking into and modifying the city’s security system. There are few Tanks with that level of education and experience in the computer field. The AI has flagged three possible suspects. Two NB suspects have also been identified, individuals suspected of participating in pro-Tank protests in the past. While no evidence yet exists to support charges against any of the individuals, arrest warrants have been issued for all five under the Emergency Security Act of Year Fourteen.

Supreme HQ – “The Rock”

Victory City, Earth Two

Earth Two Date 12.04.30

“I’m worried, Max. We received two routine status updates, but nothing since. We should have heard at least once since then. Nicki…Admiral Frette…is extremely precise. She wouldn’t have missed a transmission. Not unless…”

Harmon leaned back in the chair, looking over at the commander-in-chief of the republic’s navy. He’d known Erika West for a long time, and for many years he had been the junior of the two…until Harmon became the republic’s first—and to date only—president. He’d been a little concerned at first if it would be difficult for both of them, but West had never given the slightest indication that she resented his authority over her. He’d had more trouble with it, but she’d made it easy for him to adjust.

“Don’t jump to any conclusions, Erika. You know our hypercom technology is rough. We can send messages through warp gates, but we can’t match the First Imperium’s use of the system, at least not yet. The reliability is pretty poor…any number of things could have interfered with Nicki’s message.”

Harmon wasn’t sure where the line stood between what he really believed and what he was telling West to make her feel better. He knew West had more than a comradely interest in Frette’s wellbeing, and truth be told, whatever he was saying, he was just as worried at the absence of a recent communique.

The commanding admiral’s romantic relationship with her executive officer was a closely-kept secret, but Harmon was a good friend of both women, and he had known from the beginning. Fraternization between officers at different levels on the chain of command was a technical violation of regulations, but it was widely ignored in the republic’s navy…almost as much as it had been in the Alliance navy the two officers had served before. Still, Erika West tended to be a ‘by the book’ kind of officer, and she’d struggled with it for a while, balancing her feelings with her sense of duty. In the end, Harmon had spoken to her, told her after all they’d been through it would be insane to turn away any chance at happiness…and he had closed with the one line he knew West could not ignore. Admiral Compton would have approved.