Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship (15 page)

"That's plain enough," Jackson said in disgust as his suspicions were confirmed.

"I have no intention of obeying her orders, sir, and trying to take command of this ship," she said. "The
Blue Jacket
is yours. Knowing what you do now, I'll understand if you think it's best I remove myself from duty."

"You came clean when the cards were on the table," Jackson said after a moment. "You're a good XO and I'm going to need you before this is all over."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"But," he said, holding up a finger, "I will understand if you don't want to risk your career by defying Winters. I can have you removed from duty and confined to quarters until we reach Haven. It will give you plausible deniability and your record won't be tarnished."

"While I appreciate the kind offer to have me arrested, I would rather remain at my station."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said with a laugh. "Oh ... there was one more message and I think I know who it's from. You'll probably want to stay for this." He twisted the monitor around so she could see it and keyed up the next message. It was from whom he had suspected. He heard a slight gasp from Celesta as she saw whom it was. Despite the apparent recent lack of grooming and hygiene, there was no mistaking the face.

"Hey, Captain," Agent Pike said. "Got your message. So it was really fucking aliens? Wow. I didn't see that coming. Anyway ... as you've probably already seen there isn't much of a Fleet presence out there. I'm moving this up my channels here to try and kick Eight Fleet in the ass and mobilize them, but I'm stuck on some shithole world in New Europe. The Commonwealth hasn't been very diligent in maintaining the drone network so I'm not sure if my messages are being propagated out or dying two systems over.

"I also heard from a little birdy that you've got serious trouble coming. Admiral Winters was heard to be storming the halls of Jericho muttering about being able to finally put that Earther where he belongs. I'm guessing the Earther is you and I can only imagine where she thinks you belong. If my source is to be believed, and she usually is—at least about work—Winters is going to try and get Celesta Wright to take command of the
Blue Jacket
.

"I'm not sure if this is because of what you've reported back or in spite of it, but either way I'm hoping you'll take steps to ensure you stay in command of that ship. Despite your lack of tactics you showed some serious balls charging that thing over Oplotom. You very well may be the only warship out there standing between that monstrosity and another massacre. No pressure.

"Anyway ... I'll work this on my end through my connections. You need to stay out there. Do whatever it takes to make sure that thing doesn't cut a huge, bloody swath through the Confederacy and I'll buy you a beer afterwards. Assuming you survive. Out."

"Who the fuck was that?" Celesta blurted when the video winked out.

"Why, that was Mr. Aston Lynch, junior aide to Senator Augustus Wellington," Jackson said with a straight face.

"Captain—" she began hotly.

"That was Agent Pike," Jackson said, laughing and holding his hand up to head her off. "He's a super spook for the CIS. Mr. Lynch is one of his many personalities as I understand it."

"So that whole time he was a CIS agent just bumming a ride from us?" she demanded, seeming to be very angry about the whole thing. Jackson narrowed his eyes speculatively.

"He sent you another message as Lynch, didn't he?" he asked shrewdly "One that just came in because we've been out of contact with the network." Celesta became flustered and her cheeks burned bright red. "No need to answer, Commander," he said. "But yes, he's a legitimate agent and he's been a help on this mission. Sort of."

"So what is our next move?" Celesta said. "If Agent Pike"—she practically spat the name out—"is to be believed we may be the first and last line of defense out here."

"That's a terrifying prospect," Jackson said. "We're in no shape to fight right now and I don't think that monster will take it so easy on us this time around."

"You really think it was holding back?" she asked.

"Not a doubt in my mind," he said. "It let us get close to take a shot and learn what sort of threat we were. As it turns out, not much of one. I have a feeling if we meet again we'll be fighting for our lives."

"
Captain to the bridge
," the computer announced, interrupting Celesta before she could ask her next question.

"We'll discuss this further," Jackson said as he rose from his seat and straightened his utilities.

"We're entering Podere's orbit, Captain," Ensign Davis said as they walked back onto the bridge.

"Have we had any contact with the local government?" Jackson asked.

"Yes, sir," the second watch coms officer said. Jackson turned around at the feminine voice, taking note of the crew change at the coms station. "They welcomed us into their space and asked that we maintain a high orbit to stay clear of the cargo ships coming into port."

"It's a start, I suppose," Jackson said. "Tell them that I need to discuss an urgent and delicate matter with a representative that is capable of making decisions on their behalf."

"Aye, sir,"

"If we can't at least get the damage on the prow cleaned up we're going to be in a bad way," Celesta remarked.

"Not necessarily," Jackson said. "This ship is made to take a punch on the nose. Losing the forward targeting radar is a bit of an inconvenience, but our lateral beams are almost all functional on the port side. That's a lot of firepower in a single pass."

"True," she said. "It would still be nice to at least get some of those sensors working again."

"No argument there," Jackson said.

"Captain, a representative from the surface will be available to speak with you in nine hours," the com officer said, sounding almost apologetic. "They say they're entering night hours and everyone has gone home. I tried to stress the seriousness of the situation but they seem to be brushing it off."

"Thank you, Ensign," Jackson said, leaning back in his seat. "Nine hours? We have to cool our heels in high orbit for nine hours because someone doesn't want to be late for dinner?"

"Not to mention that's nine hours in which the
Blue Jacket
is not being repaired," Celesta said, equally annoyed.

"Coms, tell them we expect to hear from them as soon as possible," Jackson said. "Reiterate that there is a credible threat to their planet that we need to discuss. Ensign Davis, use our credentials and open a channel to the com drone platform. Keep access limited to my personal codes only for right now."

"It will take me a moment, sir," Davis said.

"I'll forward you the data packet and addresses to send them to momentarily," Jackson said. He was already furiously typing on the terminal attached to his seat's armrest. He didn't need to bother with video for what he was doing. By the time Ensign Davis had negotiated with the com platform Jackson was just finishing his correspondences, attaching the applicable data files, and sealing them into encrypted data packets.

"The files are on the way to you," Jackson told her, walking over to the OPS station. "Use our Fleet override and make sure a drone is launched immediately."

"Yes, sir," she said, her hands flying over her terminal screens. "Drone will be launching in five minutes."

"How many of our own com drones do we have left?" he asked.

"Internal complement of drones is down to eight, sir," Davis said.

"Okay everyone," Jackson said, walking to the middle of the bridge. "Call up your watch reliefs and get some food and rest. It appears the Poderen government is going to make us wait for a third of a day and I want you all rested when that happens. We'll either be docking for repairs or we'll be exiting the system."

There was a mild commotion as calls were sent out to the relief watch and the bridge crew began gathering up the random collection of coffee mugs and other personal items that they brought with them during long shifts. Jackson watched them as they briefed their replacements before leaving to go eat, reconnect with friends, and grab some rack time. He felt a pang of guilt for not telling them that they might not be leaving the area until the politicians could sort everything out and get a Fleet presence out to the frontier.

Beyond the guilt, however, was a gnawing feeling that overshadowed everything. The fear that the alien ship would find this system was causing him physical discomfort to the point that he hadn't been eating or sleeping regularly since they'd arrived in the Xi'an system. He was also suffering through mild withdrawal symptoms as that same fear had kept him away from his illegal bourbon stash for longer than he could remember in recent years. The combination had resulted in a low-grade headache which had settled in his temples and made the beeps and chirps that were a constant on a starship bridge almost unbearable.

He knew he could drink just enough to normalize himself, but he was too afraid to do anything that might compromise his ability to command the ship. The fact he was the only starship captain in the last two hundred years with any actual combat experience, even after only a single pass, single volley with an enemy, was terrifying. As the reality of that fact sank in he realized there would be no cavalry swooping in. There was no battlegroup out there with a crusty old fleet admiral that had the experience to take on an unknown enemy and not be surprised by anything it could throw at him. He was it.

"Are you okay, sir," Celesta said quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Of course, Commander," he said, clearing his throat. "Why?"

"You just turned very pale and began sweating," she said. "Maybe you should get some rack time yourself. I'll take the first half of this watch and then call Lieutenant Peters up."

"That's not a bad idea," he said, trying to hide his relief. "You have the bridge, Commander." He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked off the bridge, trying not to appear like he was hurrying.

Instead of going back to his office like he’d planned he found himself taking the left two decks down and walking to his quarters. He pulled the utility top off and tossed it on a chair, sinking down wearily on the bed. Before he had too much time to think about it, he kicked his boots off and lay back.

"Set wake up," he said to his comlink. "Five hours from now." There was a chirp from his comlink and a softer acknowledgement from the ship's computer letting him know it was aware of his intentions. It would hold all non-priority message traffic and let him get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

He drifted off to an uneasy sleep full of images of another dead planet.

Chapter 13

-Beep beep-

Jackson wasn't aware how long the computer had been trying to get his attention. He sat up groggily and felt more exhausted now than when he’d gone to sleep. Looking at his clock he saw it had only been three hours ago.

-Beep beep-

"Go!" he called out, rubbing his eyes.

"Captain, this is Lieutenant Peters," the disembodied voice of one of his operations officers floated from the speakers in the ceiling. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but we've had something odd happen."

"Define odd, Lieutenant," Jackson said.

"The tracking signal from an automated mining rig in the outer asteroid belt just dropped off," Peters said. "I've contacted the surface and they told me it's prone to this sort of intermittent failure. They won't send anyone to check on it unless it stays out for more than six hours."

Jackson's blood ran cold. "We both know that's bullshit, Peters," he said, grasping for his boots. "Go to general quarters. 1-SS. I'm on my way. Get your ass to the CIC once Davis gets there."

"
General quarters, general quarters!
" the call blared over the shipwide. "
All crew to battle stations! Set condition 1-SS and prepare the Blue Jacket for imminent combat operations!
"

Jackson rolled his eyes at Peter's embellished call to action as he yanked on his utility top and felt his boots automatically snug around his feet. He could feel the full day’s worth of growth on his face and knew his breath must smell like a trash can. Irrationally he felt some resentment towards the aliens for attacking before he could shower and get something to eat as he rushed out of his quarters and raced for the bridge.

"Report!" he barked as he stormed onto the bridge.

"No contact with the alien ship yet," Ensign Davis said, still trying to fasten the buttons on her own utility top. "The signal from the mining platform hasn't come back up either."

"Is the com drone platform still singing?" Jackson asked.

"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Keller reported. "Clock and status signals are still strong and steady."

"I'll bet they're going for those first," Jackson said, thinking hard as he looked at a two-dimensional representation of the system imposed over the view of the main display. "They would have had to learn at least that much about us to hit the long-range coms before moving on the planet." He thought about it for a moment longer before he was sure he was right.

"Helm! Heat up the mains and prepare to break orbit," he said. "Coms, tell whoever the hell is answering calls on Podere that we have a potential hostile ship in the system and we're moving to intercept. Nav, give me the most efficient course that swings us out to the com platform."

"We're going to attack?" Ensign Davis asked. "In our condition?"

"Our condition, Ensign, is that we're the only human ship in this system with any teeth," Jackson said with a confidence he didn't feel. "I'm not inclined to abandon these people to certain death because we got scraped up in our last fight with this thing."

"Course is plotted and the mains are online, sir," the helmsman reported.

"Very well," Jackson said, sitting in his seat to keep from fidgeting. "All ahead, full."

"Ahead full, aye," the helmsman said, smoothly pushing the throttles up to maximum. The bridge vibrated harshly as the mains shoved the
Blue Jacket
forward and began getting them up to breakaway speed.

"OPS, we need all weapons charged and ready," Jackson said. "Inform Engineering I want all four reactors running at eighty percent and all capacitor banks charged. Tactical, verify weapon statuses as they become available. Have the forward tubes loaded with Shrikes."

"Shrikes, sir?" the tactical officer asked in confusion. "Not Avengers?"

"I know the Avengers are the heavy hitters, but the Shrikes are faster and have better range," Jackson explained, trying to remember they all lacked experience as he fought to not reprimand the junior officer for questioning him. "We'll have time to reload with the big boys after we test the waters with the smaller missiles."

"Yes, sir. Requesting Shrikes for all available forward tubes."

Jackson looked up at the display again and saw they were going to have to swing all the way around the planet before they could break and head for the com platform. It would be at least nine and half hours before they were even within range of the damn thing to scan it with the backup targeting radar.

"Should we have the platform launch a few drones now with a warning before we lose it?" Celesta asked. She looked as haggard as everyone else on the bridge and Jackson remembered that she had just gone off shift when general quarters was called.

"To whom?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Any com traffic with our codes is being held up at a ... chokepoint. Besides which, there's every possibility this is a false alarm."

"Do you really think that?"

"No I don't," he said with a sigh. "I led them right to this system. I may have killed every man, woman, and child on Podere with my carelessness."

****

"Com drone platform has just stopped reporting," Lieutenant Keller stated. They'd been steaming hard for that point in space for over three hours, the harsh vibrations of the mains at full power numbing them in their seats.

"Update our plot," Jackson said. "Assume the enemy is within a sphere radiating one hundred thousand kilometers from the platform’s last reported position. Helm, adjust your course accordingly; we want to keep our nose on that bastard."

"Aye, sir,"

"Nav, what's our acceleration?"

"We're at five thousand one hundred meters per second delta-V, Captain," the chief sitting at the nav station reported.

"Helm, cut the mains," Jackson said as he crunched the numbers in his head. "Zero thrust, maintain course."

"Zero thrust, aye," the helmsman reported. "Mains answering idle condition."

"We're not getting much more speed for the amount of propellant we're burning," Jackson explained to Celesta. "Not only that, but we're lighting ourselves up like a mini-nova running the engines so hard."

"We have to assume we've already been spotted," Celesta said.

"Oh it knows we're here, all right," Jackson said. "If it follows the pattern we've gotten from the tiny amount of data we have it should be coming right for us after the com platform is destroyed."

"Comforting," she answered, the tension in her face at odds with the flippant tone of her comment.

"Tactical, you're cleared to run up the active arrays when we approach within sixty thousand kilometers of our projected engagement sphere," Jackson said. "While I'm sure we've been spotted after such a violent ascent from around Podere, there's no point in broadcasting our exact position the entire flight. OPS, tell Chief Engineer Singh I want a status report on all primary flight and tactical systems sent to my terminal within the next fifteen minutes."

The next two hours passed uneventfully as the ship drifted towards where they assumed the com platform had been located. He resisted the urge to hover over his crew, pace, or give unnecessary orders or encouragement as they went about their jobs. The status update he'd received from Singh showed that, despite the previous damage, the
Blue Jacket
was probably more ready to fight than she had been over Oplotom.

"Contact!" the tactical officer called out. "Debris field along the projected course of the com platform. Density readings are consistent with the platform's construction but there isn't nearly enough to account for the entire structure."

"Same as all the others," Jackson said. "At least we're now one hundred percent certain who we're dealing with. Go to high-power mode on all the active sensors. Find this son of a bitch."

"Going active."

"Helm, pitch the nose down seven degrees and engage the mains, half-thrust," Jackson ordered as he studied the disbursement of the debris field. "Let's fly underneath all of that before it gets too close and spreads too much."

"Ahead one-half, aye," the helmsman said. "Helm answering to new course."

Jackson watched as the dotted lines of their new projected course were populated by the computer on the main display, verifying that the ship would clear the navigation hazards with a comfortable safety margin.

"New contact," the tactical officer said with some hesitation.

"Well?" Jackson said, not quite snapping. "What is it?"

"The computer is having trouble resolving the returns. It's like it isn't constructed with any metal alloys."

"Just put it up on the display," Jackson said. He looked as the ghost of a sensor return was imposed just behind the debris of the station, keeping precise distance and pacing along just behind it. It was also much, much closer than they'd expected it to be. Jackson thought he'd have had a bit more warning.

"Target the sensor anomaly and fire the Shrikes!" he barked. His outburst seemed to fluster his tactical officer, who held his hands frozen over his terminal and had a look on his face of sheer panic.

"Fire, damnit!!" Jackson practically screamed. When the officer didn't seem to be responding, Jackson leapt towards the tactical station and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're relieved of duty. Out of the seat. Now!!"

The flustered officer was nearly flung out of the seat as Jackson slipped into it and began bracketing the anomaly with the Shrikes' targeting system, overriding the computer's protests that it wasn't a valid target. Less than ten seconds later he flipped open the protective red cover of the hooded fire control switch and flicked it up, authorizing weapons release.

Four high-velocity, low-yield Shrike missiles streaked out of the lateral launch tubes, two on each side. Even as the missiles streaked towards the target Jackson sent the request for Avengers to be reloaded into the launch tubes.

"Target is maneuvering," Ensign Davis said. "It's dropping down and below the debris field and accelerating towards us."

"Helm, all ahead emergency!" Jackson called as he peered over the Tactical console at the display. "Get us under that ship."

"All ahead emergency, aye," the helmsman said as he overrode the safety lockouts on the throttles and pushed the engines beyond their accepted performance envelope. The vibration and sound on the bridge was horrendous.

"Target is slowing and there's a massive thermal buildup on its nose," Celesta called out. When Jackson moved to Tactical she had jumped into the command chair and was trying to control the flow of information to him so he could concentrate on fighting the ship.

"It's going to take out the Shrikes," Jackson said as he operated the
Blue Jacket's
sensor suite, recording as much data as he could as they roared by. Sure enough, there was a flare of energy that washed out their forward sensors and the status links to their four missiles winked out well before they would have impacted the target.

"They're not going to fall for that again," he said, keying in the targeting data for the Avengers.

"We're going to pass beneath them still well out of heavy beam range," Ensign Davis said, doing as much as she could from OPS to assist Jackson.

"Acknowledged," he said. "Helm, keep an eye on the engines. If the plasma chamber temps start to fluctuate don't bother alerting me. Pull the power back."

"Yes, sir."

"Another plasma burst is building up on the target's starboard flank," Davis warned. Jackson looked at their range and saw they were still nearly seventy thousand kilometers apart. With the
Blue Jacket
under emergency acceleration they would pass within minutes at their closest point, forty-eight thousand kilometers, before the range would begin to increase again. Even with a reactionless drive he didn't think the massive alien ship would be able to turn and pursue before they could get a decent lead on it.

"Maintain heading," he said. He received an alert that the forward-facing missile tubes were loaded, but they'd closed the range so much that he had no chance to fire and allow them to track into the enemy. The Avengers were interceptor-type missiles that worked best when able to cross an incoming ship's course in a head-on pass. Jackson looked over at the armament panel and saw he had no heavy beams available on his forward starboard quadrant. Whatever the enemy was about to do he had nothing to answer with.

"Target is accelerating tangentially from its original course," Celesta called in alarm. "It's closing the range quickly!"

"Helm, fire starboard thrusters, fore and aft!" Jackson ordered. He wanted to crab the
Blue Jacket
away from the incoming behemoth, but the small attitude thrusters were only meant to change the orientation of the ship, not push it onto a new course.

"No effect, Captain," the helmsman reported. "Her inertia is too great."

"Cease thrusting," Jackson said in irritation. "Commander Wright, send localized warnings to the compartments on the starboard side. Tell them to get out of there and prepare damage control teams. This won't be an exploratory jab like the last hit was."