Cradle of War (A Captain's Crucible Book 3) (2 page)

Five days earlier...

J
onathan stared at the video feed provided by his aReal—augmented reality—glasses. On it was the latest arrival to the system: a giant, golden ship. It was shaped like a Möbius strip in that it doubled back upon itself, the rectangular edges twisting one hundred and eighty degrees before joining so that it possessed one continuous surface.

According to the aReal’s tactical display, the new ship was located two million kilometers off the
Callaway’s
nose, in the one o’clock position. It had emerged from the inner Slipstream of the system only moments ago.

“Ops, do we have a heading for her yet?” Jonathan said.

The fifth watch ops officer shook her head. “She’s not moving. The moment she emerged, the ship issued a full stop.”

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display. Instinctively his gaze drifted to the survivors of the enemy fleet: six Raakarr vessels, located on the far side of the binary stars. Ninety million kilometers away, they weren’t a threat. For the moment.

A lone Raakarr vessel resided closer to the human fleet, roughly thirty thousand kilometers off port. Crewed by defectors, those particular aliens were supposedly Jonathan’s allies. He had christened their vessel the
Talon
.

“Any attempts at contact?” Jonathan asked the fifth watch comm officer.

The specialist looked up from his position at the Round Table. “Negative sir.”

“Relay a welcome message in all languages and comm protocols,” Jonathan said. Somehow he doubted any of those languages would be understood—they were in a different galaxy, after all. But he hoped the protocols themselves would be recognized for what they were: a peaceful communication attempt, not an attack.

“Aye sir,” the comm officer responded.

“And tell our Raakarr friends to attempt communication as well,” Jonathan added. Then: “Helm, full stop. Tactical, transmit the order to the fleet. I don’t want us getting any closer to that ship.”

The respective officers issued a chorus of affirmative replies.

Jonathan tapped his foot impatiently. “Comm, anything?”

“No response yet,” the comm officer answered.

“I’m detecting a concentrated gamma ray burst from the
Talon
,” Ensign Lewis said. “It looks like a communications signal. Aimed at the newcomer.”

At least the alien defectors are following my orders,
Jonathan thought.

“The burst reached the strange vessel.” Lewis paused. “So far, no response.”

“Maxwell,” Jonathan told the
Callaway’s
AI. “Summon Miko to the bridge.”

“Lieutenant Miko has been summoned,” the AI responded via the aReal. “The tactical officer should arrive shortly.”

Jonathan glanced at the current tactical officer. “No offense, but I want someone experienced at your station when this turns bad.”

“None taken,” the officer replied. He seemed relieved.

“I couldn’t help but notice you said
when
the situation turns bad,” Maxwell intoned over a private line. “Not
if
. You’re already assuming the worst, Captain?”

“I have to.” Jonathan momentarily raised his noise canceler so the bridge crew wouldn’t hear. “We haven’t had good luck with first contacts lately, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“While that may be so,” Maxwell said. “You are exhibiting classic signs of a confirmation bias. Just because our first contacts have gone poorly in the past does not mean they will continue to do so. So far the new arrivals have done nothing to demonstrate any hostile intent. Their silence could be attributed to something as simple as the aliens not using radio or gamma waves for communications.”

“Be that as it may,” the captain responded. “The universe isn’t full of fluffy pink elephants who want nothing more in life than to be our best friends, Maxwell. I’m not about to fly up to this unknown ship with open arms and present our damaged side to them so that they can fire at their leisure.”

“I’m not suggesting you do,” Maxwell replied. “Only that you keep an open mind, as specified by first contact protocol.”

“Fine. My mind is open.” Jonathan wasn’t about to tell the AI that he had further reasons to distrust the newcomers. Earlier he had had visions, courtesy of the three golden anomalies in the
Callaway’s
cargo hold, linking that vessel, or those of its ilk, to the annihilation of both the human and Raakarr races.

He repealed the canceler. “Comm?”

“Still nothing,” the comm officer said.

Miko arrived and relieved the fifth watch tactical officer.

“Morning, Captain,” Miko said, rubbing his eyes. It was a little after midnight.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Miko,” Jonathan said cheerlessly. “Maxwell has brought you up to speed?”

“He has,” Miko confirmed. “A massive vessel emerged from the wormhole ahead of us and isn’t answering hails.”

A silo-shaped robot assistant deposited a steaming cup of coffee at Jonathan’s station, and then Miko’s. The two drank gratefully.

Jonathan returned his attention to the oddly formed vessel on the video feed. He magnified a portion of the object and the display pixelated slightly as digital zoom was applied. The gold hull seemed slightly translucent, and he saw the vague outline of structures inside.

“Ops, what does the CDC make of it?” Jonathan asked. CDC stood for Combat Direction Center, where all tactical and sensor data was processed by the ship’s AI and a team of specialists before being bundled up into something the bridge crew could use.

The fifth watch ops specialist spoke up. “The general shape matches the ruins of Elder vessels we’ve discovered in our own galaxy, including the wreckage on Achilles I in the Vega 951 system.” That was the system they had been exploring when they first encountered the Raakarr. Apparently the Raakarr had been using Vega 951 as some sort of breeding ground, but whether their usage of the Elder wreckage had been coincidence or necessity, no one knew.

“Apparently their ship design hasn’t changed much in the five hundred thousand years since they left our own galaxy,” the ops specialist finished.

“And I thought human beings were creatures of habit,” Jonathan said. “Kind of brings new meaning to the phrase,
if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“Maybe they’ve forgotten how to build ships, and this is all they have,” the specialist said.

“Forgotten?” Jonathan said. “Doubtful. But if they managed to create ships that were completely self-sufficient and self-sustaining, I suppose at some point there would be no need to build any further vessels.” He stared intently at the golden shape. “So these are the Elder.” He couldn’t help the slight awe that slipped into his voice.

“There is one big difference between this ship and the ruins,” the ops specialist said.

“What’s that?” the captain asked.

“Structures of some kind seem to be housed underneath that hull,” the specialist answered. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. The Elder ruins found previously were all hollow inside.”

“I noticed them, too,” Jonathan said. “Does the CDC have any guesses on what those structures are?”

“They look almost like buildings,” the specialist said. “Grouped in clusters. It’s almost like... like there are entire cities housed within.”

Jonathan felt his brow furrow. “What are you saying, it’s some kind of generation ship? Or an artificial world?”

“No idea,” the specialist answered. “But there are no obvious weapon mounts, if that’s any consolation.”

“Not really.”

His eyes focused on the center of the display, where his own fleet resided, composed of six human vessels, plus the Raakarr defector ship, the
Talon
, thirty thousand kilometers off port. He still wasn’t quite sure of the latter’s allegiance, or intentions. Certainly, that dart-shaped alien ship had turned on the other Raakarr in the last battle, shooting down two of their own vessels. The action had caused the surviving Raakarr to flee.

There was a human telepath stationed aboard the defector vessel, a man named Barrick. The explanation the telepath had given for the unexpected help was members of the so-called
Zarafe
faction had risen up and usurped control of the ship from the other Raakarr, whom he called the
Elk
.

It was probably true, but Jonathan’s distrust for the telepath ran deep. After the man had awakened from his mind link with a captured alien six months ago, his psychic abilities had somehow skyrocketed, and Barrick had easily assumed control of the flagship. He had almost succeeded in making the bridge crew fire on their own vessels, but Maxwell and Stanley had saved them. He wondered if something similar had happened aboard the alien vessel. What if the telepath was controlling all of the defectors? It was certainly possible. Still, Jonathan had a feeling the alien minds were far too different from that of human beings to make such mass control feasible.

After that initial incident aboard the
Callaway
, Barrick had been sedated for six months, but had somehow awakened to kidnap the first officer’s wife, bringing her to the Raakarr. He had learned to speak to the aliens via telepathy in a suspiciously short amount of time, and then he had released his hostage, or rather, arranged for her escape with the help of some alien friends.

The telepath remained aboard the
Talon
, partly because Jonathan wouldn’t have accepted him back even if he wanted to return, but mostly to facilitate communications with the aliens. So while Jonathan didn’t entirely trust the man, and definitely didn’t like him, without Barrick there was no way to have any sort of dialog with the Raakarr. Again, that assumed Barrick wasn’t actually in control of the alien minds. And even if he was not, Jonathan couldn’t know with absolute certainty whether the telepath was truthfully delivering everything both parties said, and not altering the exchanges to suit his own hidden agenda.

Still, Jonathan had little choice for the moment. He almost wanted to send Robert or another officer aboard to act as a true liaison officer, but he was too worried about the Raakarr—and Barrick—taking another hostage.

“Get me the telepath,” the captain told the comm officer.

J
onathan waited impatiently for Barrick to tap in.

Several moments later the telepath’s voice came over his aReal.

“Good morning, Captain.” As usual, Barrick answered the request with audio only. “To what do I owe this late night call?”

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t know the news,” Jonathan said.

Barrick didn’t reply immediately. Then: “My apologies, Captain. I was in fact asleep, but Valor has now informed me of the situation.”

Valor was the leader of the Zarafe faction, and he currently served as captain of the
Talon
.

“The Raakarr know who these newcomers are, don’t they,” Jonathan said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He waited for a reply, but when none came after thirty seconds, he added: “Barrick?”

“A moment,” Barrick responded. Finally: “Valor says these are their ancestors.”

“Their ancestors?” Jonathan asked. Robert, his first officer, had theorized as much.

“Yes,” Barrick answered. “An ancient race, once resident in our own galaxy, though apparently they left it long ago. The same race humanity refers to as the ‘Elder:’ the makers of the Slipstreams that connect the sundry systems in our corner of the galaxy.”

“I asked you something before,” Jonathan continued. “But your friend Valor wouldn’t give me a straight answer. So I ask again: why did the Raakarr insist we go down to the surface of the greenhouse planet with them? They lied about not having exploratory shuttles... they could have 3D-printed more, just as they built those six ships to ambush us. They already knew we would find those anomalies down there, didn’t they? They knew we would be attacked by humanoid guardians. So what I want to know is, why bring us to the site?”

The line remained silent. Jonathan thrummed his fingers anxiously. Finally, after almost a minute, Barrick spoke again.

“Valor has agreed to answer the question,” the telepath said.

“Generous of him,” Jonathan replied.

“He says the Raakarr indeed recognized the site as an Elder breeding ground from orbit. They wanted to summon their ancestors in the hope the Elder would help the Raakarr return to their own galaxy. But the only way to summon them was by invading the nesting site. They were afraid of the Elder’s wrath, so they spent six months building more ships in case they needed to defend themselves from their ancestors. But then the human fleet showed up and provided a convenient scapegoat. They wanted it to look like we humans were the actual invaders of the breeding grounds, and hoped that when the Elder came, they would show the Raakarr mercy.”

Jonathan felt a sinking feeling deep inside of him. He muted his microphone.

“We took the anomalies we found down on that planet,” the captain said quietly to Miko. “And recovered the bodies of those who were probably their guards. So even though the Raakarr lost three of their own down there, we played right into their little game. When the Elder find out we’ve taken their offspring, I doubt they’ll be very pleased.”

Miko frowned. “Probably not.”

“I must add,” Barrick said, oblivious to the exchange that had taken place between Jonathan and his tactical officer. “Valor claims the Zarafe faction had no involvement in any of that plotting. None whatsoever. He lays it squarely at the feet of the Elk faction.”

Jonathan unmuted his side of the connection. “He would do that, wouldn’t he? But why didn’t Valor try to stop them?”

“There was nothing he could do at the time,” Barrick responded. “Valor had to bide his time, waiting for his chance to strike, and when the opportunity arose he took it.”

Choosing a time that was convenient to him, of course, but not to us.

“Ask Valor about the humanoids who attacked us down there,” Jonathan said. “I want to know how they’re connected to the Elder.”

Barrick’s reply didn’t come immediately. Then: “Valor says he has answered enough of your questions for the moment. I’m sorry, Captain. I have to go.”

“Wait, will our weapons harm them? Our lasers? Our particle beams?”

“Valor says he doesn’t know.” The connection terminated.

Jonathan sat back and sighed. “I can’t believe how badly the Raakarr set us up.”

“Maybe we can return the eggs to the greenhouse planet?” Miko suggested.

“It’s looking like we’re going to have to,” Jonathan said. “I wanted to avoid moving toward the other side of the system while the six Raakarr were out there, but I don’t think we have a choice now.”

“The question is, do we stop by the nearest gas giant to refuel first, as we originally intended?” Miko asked. “Or head directly to the greenhouse planet?”

“I’m thinking we can’t forgo a refueling,” Jonathan said. “We have to be ready when this situation turns sour.”

The fleet had nearly exhausted all of their propellant in the last battle, and much geronium, which was the fuel that powered starship reactors. The fleet-wide inventories of offensive mortars and point defense slugs were similarly depleted, so while the Harvester vessel
Grimm
collected fuel, the rest of the task group would have to mine ammunition from the gas giant’s ring system.

“Once we’re done restocking,” Jonathan continued. “We can use the gravity well of the gas giant to slingshot us toward the greenhouse planet.”

“And if the six Raakarr decide to intercept us before we get there?” Miko asked.

“Then we blow them out of the stars,” Jonathan said simply. “Nav, bring us back on course toward the nearest gas giant. Give the newcomer a four million kilometer berth, at minimum. Prepare to engage at half speed: let’s not show them how fast we can travel. Miko, transmit the order to the fleet.”

“Course set,” the nav specialist responded.

“Helm, engage,” Jonathan said. “Half speed.”

“Engaging at half speed,” the helmsman echoed.

Jonathan waited a few moments. “Ops, is the Möbius strip making any attempt to follow?”

“Negative, sir,” the ops specialist said. “She’s just sitting there.”

“Notify me if that changes.” Not that they would be able to do very much if the newcomer did actually pursue, thanks to their low propellant levels.

He tapped in Lieutenant Connie Myers, the chief scientist.

Her hologram appeared in the center of the Round Table. Her long dark hair fell in disheveled locks around her face. Like Jonathan, she wore the spectacles version of the aReal.

She reached underneath her aReal with one hand and rubbed her eyes. “Morning, Captain.”

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said. “I forgot the time. I should have sent a message to your mailbox.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Connie said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to stop any experiments you’re performing or plan to perform on the specimens we collected from the greenhouse planet. I want them completely unharmed.”

“I had a batch of slightly invasive experiments planned for tomorrow, but I’ll cancel them,” Connie said.

“See that you do,” Jonathan said. “Our lives might very well depend on the well-being of those things.”

“What about the dead humanoid specimens?” Connie asked. “And their enhanced suits?”

“You may continue experimenting on them for the moment,” Jonathan said. “But I want them moved to a separate container.”

“I’ll make a note to do so first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks Lieutenant. Captain out.”

Jonathan terminated the call. He stared at the Möbius strip on his video feed.

Why won’t you move?
he thought.
Or otherwise make any attempt to contact us?

Perhaps it was for the best. Because if that ship came for them before they returned the anomalies to the planet, he somehow doubted their intentions would be peaceful.