He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (49 page)

“Aye-aye, sir, we should be coming over the hyper wall in less than an hour, sir.”

The hyper wall, a highly technical name sounding term for a point in space where there was absolutely nothing to see except as a graphic representation on a screen.  It looked something like a drain hole, and was nothing more than the dent that Sol put in the fabric of space/time.  At the bottom, it narrowed to a point, representing the event horizon where matter couldn’t escape the pull of Earth Sun.  Mike thought about what had possessed Captain Enright to engage his primitive warp drive at such a point in the first place.  At the time, he had no idea that what he’d invented, nor what it would do.  If anything.  He anticipated measure the degree of gravitational flux he and other had noted out beyond the Oort cloud, nothing more.  He must have thought he’d blown his ship up with what happened next.  The universe turning itself inside out was an apt description, as that’s what it felt like to human senses.  One second everything was normal, and the next complete disorientation and the feeling that time had stopped.  This wasn’t the warp point Enright had used, that was on the far side of the Solar system near the Heliopause, and now off limits to all shipping.  According to the official log, that jump took you to a binary star system and dropped you out in between two stars, one a red giant, the other a black hole.  The gravity sheer was tremendous, and it was only blind luck that Enright’s ship wasn’t sucked in.  It was a wonder that Enright or any of his crew survived at all, let alone able to make it back to Earth in the wreck of his ship.  Earth could only thank fate for letting him live, and come back to report what he found, otherwise, the human race would still be stuck paddling around in the solar system.  One of the main problems for a fleet transfer of a warp point was the scattering effect, and as yet, no one had been able to discover a way to keep a group of ship together in formation.  You could enter a thousand yards behind the ship you started in with, and no predictability of where you’d end up in relation to the other ships of the fleet when you came out.  In fact, you could end up coming out ahead of the ship you were following.  With single ship transfer that was not problem, as you didn’t really care where you ended up, as long as it wasn’t in the center of a star, or an asteroid belt.  That had happened a few times, but it was rare.  Standard Navy regulation said that a Captain had to launch a scout torpedo before entering any unmapped WP.  At least that way he’d have some idea of what was on the other side.

“Captain on the Bridge.”  The OX called, informing everyone present of the change in command.

“Thank you, Number One - helm, any time you are ready.”

“Aye-aye, Skipper."  Cindy Loftland answered her voice firm.  The warp transfer alarm sounded throughout the ship, and everyone stopped what they were doing and sat or lay down.

              The cooks switched off the stoves and anyone working with dangerous equipment switched it off as a safety precaution.  “Transfer in five - four - three - two - one.”  As the ship retracted the hyper sails, the ghostly images around him performed their usual dance, but if their actions were the same as his, he had no way of telling. The universe also did its dance and suddenly they were several thousand light years from where they had been, and Sol blazed before them.

“Transfer complete, Skipper.”

“Set course for Mercury Station, helm, most direct route, cruising speed.”

“Aye-aye, Skipper, the most direct route and cruising speed it is.”

“Have all division submit their final reports to me within the next twenty-four hours, Number One.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll have damage and supply reports ready for you at the same time.”

He could make a faster transit, but the Admiralty took a dim view of ship’s Captain that charged about the Solar System at flank speed, or three quarters the speed of light.  In a way, it was all relative.  With most ships now able to achieve speeds up to half the speed of light or better, it was more a question of not bumping into each other.  The only other factors to watch was deceleration, but the super computer and the inertia sump handle all the that without anyone thinking about it.  The inertia-damping field took care of effects of acceleration and de-acceleration.  Without it, the human body wouldn’t last the first trip.  It seemed inevitable that once a space faring civilization discovered warp point, they also discovered the necessary technology to travel the vast distances involved with easy.  Usually some form of gravity drive system that could push them near the speed of light, the universal speed limit.  Earth wasn’t the only one to have Ag technology, and every race they encountered with warp transfer capabilities, also invented an inertia-dampening field. 

As they drew closer to the orbit of Mercury, Mike ordered a stop at the refueling station.  Not that they were empty, the hydrogen scoop did a great job, but he erred on the side of caution and refilled his fuel, water and air tanks.  During the last few days, the crew straightened up the ship, and made it look like a naval vessel again.  It was sad in a way to see the colorful clothing vanish from the Bridge, as everyone had become use wearing it by now, even Gable.  Leaving the fueling dock, Mike sent a coded message to Admiral Rawlings, informing him, they’d returned, and he wasn’t surprised when he was ordered to take up the same coordinates as before.

“Charlotte, you’d better set up a double watch on sensors, we don’t want anyone bumping into us while we’re here.”

“No, sir,” she chuckled, “we wouldn’t want that.”

They switched off the shielding when they docked with the fuel station, but as a precaution, he’d ordered it back on.

“I was just thinking, Pete.  What if we had a fleet of ships like this?  We could sneak into any enemy anchorage, launch all our torp and missiles and be gone before the enemy knew we were even here.”

“It’s a thought, Mike.”

“Yes, it is.”  Mike murmured a germ of an idea blossoming in his mind.

“It also brings up the question of how WE see a ship coated like this.” Pete turned slightly to look at Gable.

“Hmm, true, there’s no telling how long we can keep this a secret, sir.”

“That’s another problem you will have to work on, Gable.”  Instead of looking glum at the prospect of more work, Gable looked happy.

He had something to worry about, a technical problem to work on, and he was like a duck in water, his usual mournful face pulled into a smile.  It still took an hour before he was able to take his gig and transfer to the Flagship, and even longer before he could get in to see the Admiral.  At last he came to attention in front of his desk.

“Leftenant Mike Gray, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”

“At easy, Leftenant.  From what we hear through the jungle telegraph, you cause a bit of a stir on your little trip, or so I’m told.”

“Yes, sir, we did have to get a little creative to accomplish our mission.  He smiled, handing his report over.

“I doubt that I can read this in a few moments, but I take it you destroyed those fighters?”

“No, sir.”  Mike answered, looking mournful.

“No?”  The Admiral face clouded up.

“No, sir, we had to go into Sirrien space, so after taking all that trouble, I decided it was just as easy to bring them back instead, and the pilots.”

“You what!  Good God.”  The Admiral did a quick recovery, snapping his jaw shut.

“Yes, sir, it's all in the report.”

“I just bet it is,” he chuckled, “go see to your ships re-supply and I’ll see you back here at 20:00 hundred hours for dinner.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”  With that, he returned the Admirals saluted and left the cabin.

“Flag!”  The Admiral barked.

“Yes, sir.”  His flag office stuck his head in the door.

“There will be one more for dinner tonight, and I don’t want to be disturbed for at least an hour.”

“Aye-aye, sir, one hour it is.”  Rolly Vargas pulled his head back, a puzzled look on his face.

Admiral Rawlings lit a cigar and poured himself a small Torgon Brandy before plugging the message pad into his terminal, projecting the readout onto the large screen.  Sitting back, he began to read, puffing slowly on his cigar, a smile slowly spreading across his rugged face.

In all, it took longer than an hour, especially as he wanted to review the video logs Mike included.  Once or twice his flag officer stuck his head around the door to see if the Admiral was alright.  The laugher coming from the cabin was so unusual that he had to look.  The moment he’d finished watching Admiral Rawlings copied the whole thing and hit his comm unit, consigning Mike’s original report to the security of his safe.

“Flag!  Is good for nothing layabout, Captain Bettencourt still aboard?”  He asked.

“Let me check, Admiral - No, sir, he actually on final approach to the Flagship, as we speak, sir.”  Rolly finally answered.

“Good, the moment he docks, ask him to report to me, on the double.”  The Admiral smiled.  It had been many a long year since Jimmy had heard anyone tell him that.

“Aye, Admiral.”  That was unusual.  Admirals don’t order courier pilots to report on the double, especially this one.

It didn’t take the perplexed Jimmy Bettencourt long to pick up the seal package and head back to Earth.  His instructions were too personally hand it to the King.  Upon arrival, he read the report, and watched the video along with the King and found the reason for the Admirals broad smile.

“Good God!  The boys positively brilliant, Jimmy.”

“Yes, sir, he is that.”  Jimmy answered proudly.  This proved his original estimate of Mike was well founded.

“That’s one Sirrien Star Base that won’t be producing ships for a while.”  Was his contribution.

“I’m betting they are still trying to figure out what hit them.”  That was the Admiral Rawlings conclusion as well, and he said so over dinner.  A few of the senior Captain present, ones he could trust, nodded in agreement, but Mike felt ill at ease in such company.

“I can see where this stealth coating could be of immense value in commando operations, sir.”

“Or for missions where you don’t want the enemy to know you are there, but I see a few drawbacks for fleet wide use, Admiral.”

“Yes, it does present a few hidden penalties, no pun intended.”  The Admiral answered.  “Yet, I wonder if it might be improved on, say, to find a way to keep all units of fleet in position while cloaked.”

“Humm, and what if this little secret get out, which I’m sorry to say, many are.  How do we ‘see’ a cloaked ship?”

“I did talk to Gable Bushman about that, sir, and he's working on it.”

“It would be a God sent in a battle if you could suddenly become invisible to the enemy targeting scanners.”

“It does have its limitations, as once you get into optical range; the ship could be targeted visually.”

“Yes, but what about missiles.  If they can’t see a ship like this, what’s to stop them hitting it if the ship happens to be in its flight path?”

It was a thought, one that Mike hadn’t considered till now.  The stealth coating did have a few critical advantaged while acting as a single eliminate, as more than one Captain pointed out.  In a fleet action it was a different story.

“I can see where we would have to come up with new tactics for using a group of ship like this.”  Admiral Rawlings was glad he’d open the subject of Mike’s ship to his trusted Captains.  They saw elements that might not have come up otherwise.

“This other device you spoke of, Leftenant Gray, the countermeasure canister Leftenant Adams is working on.  Could it distract a lot of incoming ordinance?”  Another asked.

“We don’t know the answer to that either, sir, but it shows promise.”

“Anyway, Mike, congratulation on retrieving the fighters for us, R&D will be here tomorrow morning to pick them up.”

“Let’s hope they don’t lose them again, sir.”