Empire in Crisis (13 page)

Logan reread the message two more times just to make sure
that he hadn’t missed anything. The commendation was a nice touch, even though
he didn’t think the ambush warranted it. The whole battle strategy was so
simple that even the less-than-average officers of this fleet couldn’t fuck it
up. Still, the commendation was bound to improve morale, and that just might
reflect itself in improved performance too. He was in the process of forwarding
the message to McKeon when the Comm. Section called again. The marines had
found survivors. Logan rushed out of his quarters and ran to the Flag
Bridge.  

As he entered the room, he was met with the giant image of
a rather ugly looking creature in the main holographic display. It was stocky,
with a thick neck, thick hair that almost looked like porcupine quills sticking
out in all directions from the head, hairy shoulders and arms, and a face that
reminded him of a bulldog. The creature had its arms and hands up in the air
and was nervously shuffling back and forth. Logan heard one of the Bridge
personnel speak. 

“The FC’s back on the Bridge now, Lieutenant.” 

“Can he hear me?” asked a voice that Logan recognized as
the platoon leader of shuttle #9. 

“I can hear you, Lieutenant. Begin your report,” said Logan
quickly. 

“Yessir. We found this…thing and two more like it, trying
to hide in a small compartment. They weren’t armed and didn’t resist. They’re
quiet now, but you should’a heard them jabberin’ away a few minutes back.
Didn’t understand a single word of it. If we’re going to bring these things
back to the ship, they’ll need pressure suits, and I don’t think our spare
suits will fit, Admiral.” 

Logan nodded. From what he could see, the standard issue
Space Force pressure suit that could accommodate 99% of Space Force personnel
would be too small in the chest for these creatures, but his people had to find
a way. The information these aliens carried in their heads made them far too
valuable to leave behind. 

“Understood. We’ll try to find a solution on this end, but
I want you to try to communicate the idea of a pressure suit to them somehow,
and keep an eye out for anything that looks like one. Until we figure out a way
to get them back here, you’re to keep them under close guard. Keep searching
for others. Have you found anything that looks like a Bridge or data
center?” 

“No, sir, but we did find a compartment that had control
equipment of some kind. My guess would be a life support control station. We
noticed something funny there. There were display screens still active with
what looked like alien writing, and along the sides of each display there were
labels with writing on them too. I’m no linguistics expert, Admiral, but it
sure looked to me like the writing on the labels was a different kind of
language from the writing on the screens.”

Before Logan could respond, he heard another voice that
sounded like it came from someone standing a short distance away from the
Platoon Leader. 

“Tell’im about the picture, LT.” 

“What picture, Lieutenant?” asked Logan. 

“Well, ah…it’ll be easier to show you than to describe it.
Just a sec while I swing the vidcam around, sir.” 

The image shifted so quickly that Logan felt disoriented
for a second or so. When the image steadied down again, it was of a portrait
hanging from a wall. The alien staring back at him from the portrait was a
sharp contrast to the live survivor. This alien had what Logan would have
described as a attractive face, although he wasn’t sure of the alien’s gender.
But whether male or female, Logan would have considered it handsome.  It had
short white hair on the head and eyebrows, a thin neck with light blue skin,
and it was wearing an impressive red and black uniform. There was writing at
the bottom of the picture. 

“Does that writing look like what you saw on the equipment
displays, Lieutenant?” asked Logan. 

“Well, sir, now that you ask, some of the letters do sort
of look like what I saw on the displays, but I’m not a hundred percent
sure.” 

“I’m willing to bet they are. Here’s what I want you to do,
Lieutenant. Get a good close-up shot of the writing on this picture, plus
close-ups of any other writing regardless of whether it’s display screen
writing or writing on labels, got that?” 

“That’s affirmative, Admiral, and before you ask, we tried
to find a way to download data from the life support control equipment, but we
haven’t found a way to even try to do that yet. Whoever built this ship doesn’t
seem to want anyone downloading anything. There’s nothing that looks like it’s
meant to be plugged into.”

That was not good news. “Understood. Keep trying,
Lieutenant. I’m pleased with what you and your people have been able to
accomplish so far. If you find anything else, you let me know. Carry on,
Lieutenant.” 

“Yessir. Thank you, Admiral. I’m clear.” The picture
vanished to be replaced by the familiar tactical display. 

Logan sat down at his Command station and tried to make
sense of what he had just seen. The only explanation he could come up with was
that these ships had been built by and for the blue skinned aliens but were now
under the control of a different alien species. The labels seemed to suggest
that the change of control was sudden and possibly involuntary. That raised
another question. What had happened to the blue skinned aliens? Too many
questions and not enough answers, but at least he had something more to report
to the Emperor. 

* * * *
* 

DeChastelaine was enjoying a leisurely meal in his private
dining room when he heard a soft ping followed by an electronic voice over the
loudspeaker. 

“An incoming message from the 107th Fleet for the
Emperor.” 

“Put it on the display here,” said DeChastelaine. The
Imperial Crest showing on the large wall display was replaced by the text
message. 

[Logan to Emperor DeChastelaine. Three alien survivors have
been found and detained in one of the crippled ships. Searches are continuing.
Marines have discovered visual evidence suggesting the captured survivors may
not be the race that built these ships. I’ve issued orders for the other four
crippled ships to be boarded and searched. In anticipation of finding more
survivors, I request that a troop transport ship be sent here to bring the
survivors back to Earth for further study and interrogation. The marines have
been unable to download any data so far. I recommend that preparations be made
to send engineering personnel and equipment here to examine these ships in
event downloading of data is not possible. End of message.] 

DeChastelaine put his utensils down and leaned back to
ponder the message. What was the Empire dealing with here? Was this incursion
by one race or two? If Logan’s marines were unable to download any data, that
would make the goal of learning any technical secrets very difficult. Even
though the data would be in an alien language, he was confident that it would
eventually be translated, and just knowing the operating parameters of the
alien FTL drive and their weapons would give clues to the actual technology. If
they had to take apart those ships there at TE33, it could take months, perhaps
even years, to learn anything useful. But Logan had made some logical suggestions
and arrangements had to be made. 

“I wish to record voice instructions that are to be
appended to this message.” 

“Standing by to record,” said the electronic voice. 

“Admiral Bishop. I’m forwarding this message from the 107th
for your information and follow-up. Let’s get a troop transport to TE33 as soon
as possible and start organizing a salvage expedition to exploit that captured
technology. Keep me informed of the progress on this. Stop recording.” 

“Recording stopped.” 

“Forward the text message and recording to the CSFO’s
Office to Admiral Bishop’s attention.” 

“Message and recording have been forwarded.” 

DeChastelaine resumed eating and wondered how long it would
be before another incoming message was received from one of the 33 fleets
outside the Solar system. When he ordered the FTL Comm. Section to forward all
incoming messages, he hadn’t realized how much message traffic there really
was. Most of it was routine and could be either ignored or delegated, but some
was not and needed to be dealt with. Fleet Admiral Jorge Santini, Hiakawa’s
nephew in command of the 787th Fleet, had sent a message  to his uncle asking
for permission to hold onto the battlecruiser squadron that was earmarked for
redeployment to one of the new Strike Fleets proposed by Hood. The longer
DeChastelaine waited to send a response, the more likely it became that Santini
would suspect something was wrong at HQ on Earth and perhaps take some action.
DeChastelaine very much wanted to respond in some way, but the response to the
787th had to be co-ordinated with the overall strategy of dealing with all the
fleets. For that he needed Hood’s advice, and she was unavailable for another
10 hours. He wasn’t used to having to deal with this level of operational
issues, and he didn’t like it. Unfortunately, he suspected that it would be months
before he could leave these issues in other hands and feel confident that they
would be dealt with quickly and competently. 

Santini frowned as he read the tardy reply from Space Force
HQ. 

[DCFSO to Santini. Tensions between Space Force and the
Emperor are running high. Your uncle needs as much flexibility as possible to
handle the situation. He asks that you comply with the order releasing the
566th battlecruiser squadron for redeployment. Plans for your eventual
assumption of command of Capital Fleet are progressing. You can best help by
being patient and not take any independent action. Your uncle sends his
regards. End of message.] 

His intuition was telling him that something was not right.
His uncle had never had his deputy record a message when it only took a few
minutes to record one himself, and releasing the 566th would upset the
carefully made plans to use that squadron to provoke a military response by the
Kravell Empire. That squadron had the right people who would follow orders and
keep quiet about it afterwards. Substituting another squadron on short notice
was just too risky, but the final discrepancy that was setting off alarm bells
in his limbic system was the sentence about eventual assumption of command of
Capital Fleet. He’d met with his uncle and cousin at a face-to-face meeting on
earth just last month. Surely his uncle hadn’t forgotten that they’d agreed it
would be his son who would assume command of Capital fleet when the time was
right. Santini decided that a quick query to his cousin was in
order.  

* * * *
* 

Logan could not believe what the tactical display was
showing him. The 107th was now in Tango Delta 39 star system, and it appeared
to be empty of enemy ships. The fleet was still near the wormhole it had come
out of, and all the other wormholes were being carefully scrutinized by light
cruisers from the 34th squadron. The starbase was still there too, but it
wasn’t answering FTL calls, and the fleet was still too far away to make normal
EM transmissions practical. He opened an intercom channel to the Main
Bridge. 

“Yes, Admiral?” said McKeon. 

“What’s your best guess as to why this system is devoid of
enemy ships, Commander?” 

McKeon took his time answering. “Well…it could be that the bloody
nose we gave them was enough to make them call off the whole campaign, but I
wouldn’t want to bet on that. None of our heavies scouting adjacent wormhole
connections have seen anything. That appears to suggest they’re not trying to
sneak around our flanks. The only other strategy I can think of is that they
might be regrouping somewhere in the Rift for another attack either here or
somewhere else. I think we have to assume that they’ve captured enough
astrogational data by now to figure out where the Empire has expanded
to.” 

Logan nodded. McKeon’s thoughts jived with his, and he
didn’t like the possibility that the enemy might be preparing another
incursion. That meant they had the initiative unless the 107th moved even
further forward into the Rift. 

“The Emperor requested that we check out the status of this
system’s starbase. He didn’t request that we move into the Rift, but I hate
just sitting here waiting for them to attack whenever they feel like it,” said
Logan. 

“We could use the lights to recon forward.” 

Logan had already considered using the light cruisers to
see what was on the other side of the wormholes in this system. It was the kind
of mission that they were built for, but the more often they did it, the more
likely they’d run into ambushes and be destroyed. Depending on how you
calculated the odds, they were already pushing their luck. But if the enemy
fleet was waiting in ambush on the other side of one of these wormholes, then
Logan had to find out in order to set up the appropriate counter-move. If he
failed to do that and the enemy managed to push their way back into TD39, then
the 107th might have to retreat all the way back to TE33. And if the enemy
followed, then the hundreds of engineers on their way to study the crippled
ships there would be at risk. At least the 105 aliens found on the wrecks were
now on their way back to the Capital by troop transport. It was obvious now too
that those squat, stocky aliens were not the builders of those ships, and that
begged the question of what had happened to the tall, slim, blue-skinned race
that in all probability had built them. If the so-called Uglies had defeated
the blue-skins with superior ships, why weren’t they using their own ships, and
if the blue-skins were technologically superior, how had the Uglies managed to
commandeer their ships? Logan realized that McKeon was still waiting for a
response to his suggestion. 

“For now, the light cruisers will keep this side of the
wormholes under observation while we check out the starbase. I’ll send our
battlecruisers ahead. We’ll follow as quickly as possible. Once we’ve learned
what happened to the starbase personnel, I’ll decide if we send the light cruisers
to recon the other side,” said Logan. 

Four point four hours later Logan had his answer concerning
the starbase personnel. There weren’t any on the starbase. All of them had
apparently been taken somewhere else. Logan’s first thought was that the Uglies
had taken the humans back to their worlds for the same reason that the crippled-ship
survivors were being taken back to the Capital. He wondered which side would
treat its prisoners more humanely.

After his tech people had examined the computer records,
they reported a disturbing development. Somehow the Uglies had been able to
communicate what they wanted to the starbase personnel and then to coerce them
into accessing the astrogational database and visually display every Empire
explored star system and wormhole connection in precise detail over a period of
days. If the Uglies had recorded that visual data, they would be in a position
to recreate the astrogational data in a way that was compatible with their
technology. That would mean they’d know the most important star systems to
attack and the most direct way to get there. Unless…was there even a chance
that the 107th could intercept that valuable data if it moved forward
aggressively enough? The odds were heavily against it. The only information
Logan had on Rift wormhole connections was the data that his exploration squadron
had gathered and which Logan’s ship had brought back before the attack. That
data only went halfway into the Rift in a relatively narrow path. If the Uglies
had taken a different route back, the 107th would never find them. And there
was more bad news. 

The starbase’s FTL transmitters were damaged in what was
clearly a deliberate attempt to deny them to humans. They would practically
have to be rebuilt from scratch, something that the 107th wasn’t capable of
doing. So asking the Emperor for permission to try to intercept the captured
astrogational data was out of the question. By the time the request could be
relayed back to TE33, then transmitted by FTL to the Capital with the reply
coming back the opposite way, the enemy’s lead would be so great that there’d
be no point in even making the attempt. Even if he ordered the 107th to charge
forward right now, it still might be, and probably already was, too late. 

With the situation on the now crewless starbase known,
Logan ordered the 34th to send one light cruiser into each of four wormholes to
scan the other side, with another cruiser waiting on the near side for a
message drone. The Fleet kept its position near the starbase in spite of
urgings by some of the squadron leaders to act more aggressively. 

Time passed slowly. It was now 3.7 hours since Logan had
made the decision to send the light cruisers to the other side of the
wormholes. The cruiser that was scouting the star system from which the first
alien incursion had originated should have emerged from the wormhole into that
other system and sent back a message drone by now. However, there were several
possible reasons why a scouting cruiser might not launch a message drone
quickly. Logan couldn’t help thinking that one of them could be that the
cruiser had been ambushed and destroyed or crippled as soon as it had emerged
from the wormhole. McKeon had already suggested moving the Fleet forward to
cover that wormhole, but Logan rejected the idea. He would wait. The cruiser on
this side of the wormhole was in constant contact with the Fleet via FTL
transmissions. If something happened to it and the transmission stopped, Logan
would know instantly, even if that ship didn’t have time to send a warning. 
The main display pinged the two-tone signal of an incoming FTL voice
transmission. 

“Jutland to FC. Sensors show spike in wormhole radiation
indicating a massive transit in progress. We are mov—“

Logan felt a shiver go up his spine. A message drone would
not be causing the wormhole to react that way, but a large fleet of ships
would, and the fact that the transmission was cut off mid-word was a bad sign.
He had contingency plans for just this kind of situation. 

“The Fleet will go to Battle Stations.” Logan kept his
voice calm in order to avoid spreading panic. “Get me Squadron Leader Ortega on
my second screen.” A woman’s face appeared on the indicated screen within
seconds. 

 
“We’re going to Battle Stations now, Admiral,” said Ortega in a less than calm
voice. 

“Here’s what I want the 496th to do. I need to know if an
alien fleet has emerged from that wormhole and is now heading this way. Take
your squadron at maximum warp to within detection range of that wormhole or
until you detect a hostile fleet. In either case, keep your squadron at max effective
detection range and report what you see. Questions?” 

“What if the alien fleet has split up, Admiral?” 

“You have the discretion to split up your squadron, but
your ships are not to get close to the enemy no matter what, understand?” 

“Understood, Admiral. We’re ready to go to warp as soon as
we’re finished talking.” 

“In that case, I won’t keep you here any longer. FC
clear.” 

With the channel closed, Logan leaned back and listened to
the chatter of the Flag Bridge personnel as each ship in the Fleet confirmed
that it was at Battle Stations. It didn’t take long for the queries to start
arriving. Squadron leaders were urging in polite and, in some cases, not so
polite ways that the Fleet had a duty to charge ahead to either rescue or
avenge the two light cruisers. Logan kept his calm demeanor and ignored the
borderline insubordinate comments. Those could be dealt with after the battle
was over, assuming that he and the offending officers were still alive by then.
The familiar two-tone ping gave him the excuse he needed to cut off the CO of
one of his super-dreadnoughts. The 496th had made contact. 

“Ortega to FC. Long-range sensors have detected 144,
repeat, 144 ships travelling at 4.6C directly for starbase. We are attempting
to maintain our relative position, but the range is decreasing. ETA at starbase
in 5.9 minutes. Request instructions.”

“Continue your withdrawal. Further instructions to follow.
Clear,” said Logan. He muted his station.

“Oh fuck,” he said in a whisper so that no one else would
hear him. That many enemy ships meant that the 107th was outnumbered, and if
those ships were the same size as the five cripples in TE33, then the 107th was
in big trouble. With light cruisers scattered throughout this and adjacent star
systems, and heavy cruisers positioned in multiple systems all the way back to
TE33, Logan was loath to simply retreat back along the path to TE33 and
possibly even further back to the Capital. If he did that, those cruisers would
be unsupported and would very likely be picked off one at a time. The crippled
ships at TE33 would be lost for purposes of learning their technical secrets,
and his mission to stop the incursion would have been a failure. 

What he really wanted to do was to entice the enemy fleet
to follow the 107th through a series of wormholes with a carefully planned and
executed ambush on the other side of each one, but with their superior speed
the enemy could, if they pushed forward aggressively enough, catch up to the 107th
before it could rendezvous with reinforcements, assuming that some
reinforcements could be found somewhere in time. He had to consult with the
Fleet Astrogation Officer, but before he did that, he had to give new orders to
the light cruisers.  

He called up the list of contingency plans made for just
this kind of situation on one of his Command Station screens. After a quick
review of each one, he selected Alpha9 and activated the execute command. The
light cruisers still in this system would receive FTL orders to transit their
wormholes, gather the light cruisers waiting on the other side and make their
way back to TE33 as best they could, while also passing on the same orders to
any heavy cruisers they encountered on the way.