Gibraltar Sun (25 page)

“So we can assume that particular contact is a primary Broan world?” Landon asked.

“It’s a good assumption to start,” Aster replied. “The last discovery is more than 200 light-years from here, so the fact that there has only been a single wave may be misleading. Presumably traffic in that system could have increased considerably in two centuries.”

“What of the radio and optical observations?”

Lieutenant Gretchen Stephens, Astronomy Section, spoke up. “I’ve reviewed their records. They have recorded definite radio signals from three nearby star systems, as well as two confirmed instances of monochromatic radiation.”

“Comm lasers?”

“Yes, sir. Obviously these systems are inhabited, but there is no evidence as of yet that they have stargates in operation.”

“No gravity waves in five years?”

“No, sir.”

Landon frowned. “What are you implying?”

“Sir?”

“Are you suggesting that these systems lack stargates, and therefore, are
not
subjects of the Broan Sovereignty?” Landon asked.

“No, sir. What we know of them is that they would never do that.”

“What we know of them comes primarily from Sar-Say and I have reason to distrust him,” Landon replied coldly.

There were several brief nods. The Broa’s near escape on Earth had sent a shiver through the officer ranks of the Stellar Survey… most of whom had since transferred to the Space Navy.

“Just because we have not yet detected a gravity wave from these other systems doesn’t mean the Broa are not present, Admiral.”

“No ship traffic in five years? That’s a long time between visits, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

Landon turned to a small mouse of a man who looked especially miserable this morning. Funny, Landon thought, he wouldn’t have thought Dr. Luigi Penda to be the partying type. Penda wore the uniform of the Space Navy, with the rank of Senior Scientist. However, he did not wear it well. Some people looked disheveled, regardless of their wardrobe.

“Dr. Penda. Is it possible that these systems are emitting gravity waves and we aren’t detecting them?”

“How far away are these systems?” the scientist asked.

“All within a dozen light-years,” Gretchen Stephens replied.

“Not according to our theory about how gravity waves work, Admiral. The discontinuity of a mass materializing within the gate is what produces gravity waves. Theory says that these waves should be omni-directional.”

“Could the Broa have overlooked these systems, even though they are emanating radio waves and comm laser beams?”

“No, sir. If we detected them, the Broa would have as well.”

“Then, assuming for a moment that these systems aren’t radiating gravity waves because they lack stargates, it is logical to assume that the Broa have chosen not to occupy them on purpose.”

Penda shook his head vigorously, then appeared to regret it. “I agree with Lieutenant Stephens. That does not comport with what we think we know of their behavior.”

“Yet, the systems have not been visited by starships via Broan stargate in five years,” Landon persisted. “If the Broa bypassed these worlds on purpose, what does that tell us about their situation?”

Penda shrugged. “Perhaps the beings that inhabit these systems are just too different. They couldn’t very well establish a colony on a gas giant like Bonnie or Clyde, even if an intelligent species were discovered to inhabit those giants. Likewise, an intelligent species found on a planet close to their star, say at the range of Mercury, would be difficult to conquer, just because of the difference in physiology. How would the Broa force an intelligent molten rock being to do anything?”

“Or they may be too technologically primitive for the Broa to worry about,” another officer suggested.

“Unlikely,” the scientist responded. “They need farmland to grow crops, mines to produce metals, raw materials of all kinds. We know they mine otherwise inhospitable and uninhabitable worlds. A planet with a population of potential slaves would be especially valuable as a raw material source.”

Landon frowned. Everyone seemed especially obtuse this morning. He continued: “Okay, they have no reason to bypass an inhabited world, at least of oxygen breathers. So if they are actually doing it, what are the implications?”

“I suppose it could be proof of what we suspect, namely that their conquests have reached the point of diminishing returns,” Dr. Penda replied. “If they lack the manpower or resources to conquer without limit, as we suspect, they would begin to cherry pick their victims. Especially valuable worlds would be conquered, while less favored ones would be left alone.”

“Would that be feasible?” Commander Connors asked from down the table from Penda. Antoinette Connors was a statuesque brunette, with an aggressive personality. She was also Landon’s most capable strategic planner. “Wouldn’t they have to conquer any planet with a technologically advanced race? Otherwise, they risk being challenged by some competitor, essentially the same as we are planning to do.”

Penda shook his head. “Without the stardrive or stargates, these unconquered species are trapped in their home systems. In effect, they have been frozen in place until such time as the overlords are better able to absorb them. Think of them as oil reserves that have yet to be extracted from the ground.”

“Assume that the hypothesis is correct,” Landon said. “How does that change our strategic and tactical situation?”

“How would it, sir?”

“Because, Doctor, unconquered systems within the Sovereignty could prove a source of allies. Presumably the bypassed star systems are aware of their situation and the fate that eventually awaits them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Put some of your people to studying the implications. This may change our strategy. In the meantime, we know of five systems that are Broan fiefdoms. What do we do about them?”

The conversation quickly turned to operations planning.

Their orders were very clear regarding positively identified Broan star systems. Barring compelling reasons not to, such systems would be visited by a two-ship reconnaissance force. Initial reconnaissance would be conducted from the edge of each star system, with the recon ships hidden in the proto-comets and floating icebergs of the Oort Cloud.

#

“We’ve got orders,” Mark told his wife as they ate dinner in the commissary. Like everywhere else on the base, the compartment was a mass of packing crates and equipment stacked haphazardly among the iron tables and benches.

“Who is ‘we?’” Lisa asked. “The two of us or our ship?”

“Ship,” he replied. “
New Hope
has been assigned to a scouting mission.”

“To where?”

“It’s called Target Gamma. It’s the system with the heavy stargate traffic.”

“Oh, goody! We get to sneak up on a star that is probably the home base of the entire fucking Broan Space Navy!”

“Not very ladylike,” Mark admonished.

His jocular response was answered with a comment even less suitable for ladylike lips.

“Actually, we should only be so lucky,” Mark responded. “Pinpointing the enemy’s primary naval base this early would be something to tell the grandchildren.”

“If we live to have any,” Lisa replied. “When do we leave?”

“That’s up to Captain Harris. I understand our second ship will be
Galloping Ghost
. She hasn’t even begun unloading. That will take at least a week.”

“Good,” Lisa replied. “It will give me time to brush up my colloquial Broa.”

#

Chapter Twenty Six

“Stand by for breakout,” Mark Rykand announced. His words echoed in his ears as they were carried via annunciator throughout Starship
New Hope II.
Their voyage was coming to an end in the outskirts of a star system known to be in the hands of the Broa. The war against the pseudo-simians was about to begin in earnest.

“Status check, Astrogator!” Captain Jonah Harris ordered. Harris had been executive officer on a Survey starship before being transferred to the Space Navy and given his own command. He was still new enough at his job to betray traces of emotion in times of stress. This was one of those times.

“Everything is nominal, Captain,” Mark responded in what he hoped was his best competent-but-bored-astrogator tone. He, too, was feeling the tension as the computer counted down the seconds to breakout.

The plan was for them to drop sublight well out from the target star, which everyone was calling Gamma, after its arbitrary target designation. After checking more than a hundred stars, the astronomers had come up with general rules for virtually every feature to be found in any system. Among these were the minimum and maximum distances for the leftover remnants of star formation that made up the Oort Cloud.

New Hope
was more than a week out of Brinks Base. She had dropped sublight four hours earlier to take position readings and coordinate with
Galloping Ghost
. The final position fix had required them to measure the angular bearings to more than a dozen marker stars in order to pinpoint their precise position. Once they had that, they searched for their consort in a sea of black.
Ghost
had dropped out just far enough away to make rendezvous inconvenient, but not impossible. With both ships maneuvering toward one another at maximum acceleration, it took just over one hour for them to match orbits.

Once they had
Ghost
in visual range, Mark Rykand’s astrogation department spent another twenty minutes making sure that their jump data was synchronized with that of the other vessel, another “Type Seven” Q-Ship. By departing the same point in space and by following a rigid course-and-time plot to their target, both ought to drop out relatively near one another on the outskirts of the Gamma System. Indeed, the only difference in their course plots was a slight variation in timing to guarantee they wouldn’t collide with each other post-breakout. There was nothing they could do about the possibility of colliding with debris in the Oort Cloud.

That was the reason Mark’s heart rate, and that of just about everyone else’s, was increasing with each second that brought them closer to Gamma. The Oort Cloud of any star is the home of the massive frozen snowballs which might one day fall into the inner system to become comets.

The cloud was huge, extending nearly a quarter-light-year out from the system primary. Its mass was greater than the mass of the star and all of its planets combined. Still, since the Oort Cloud covered billions of cubic kilometers, some regions contained no more matter than the void between stars.

“The chances of hitting an iceberg are infinitesimal, Captain Smith!
”

The quip echoed through Mark’s brain even as he told himself that there was no danger. “Captain Smith” was the fabled Edward John Smith, captain of history’s nearly mystical ocean liner, the ill-fated
Titanic
. No doubt Smith’s navigation officer had given him the same assurances that Mark had given
New Hope
’s commander.

“Nothing to worry about, Captain,” he’d said when queried about it. Of course, he had then proceeded to worry.

“Ten seconds to breakout!” Mark announced over the ship’s annunciator. “Stand by.”

The seconds ticked down until, suddenly, the viewscreen was no longer black. Or rather, it was no longer completely black. One moment they were moving at superlight velocity, listening to the hum of the stardrive, and the next moment they popped back into the real universe.

It took a few seconds for the computer to find the local star. When it did, it pointed one of the hull cameras in that direction.

It wasn’t much of a star, not when seen from a point well beyond this system’s outermost planet. It was, in fact, only slightly brighter than the other stars on the viewscreen, a dimensionless diamond shining steadily against the ebon firmament.

Gamma looked an orphan. Yet, somewhere in the volume of space framed by the hull camera lay one inhabited world, at least a couple of stargates, and just possibly, the whole fucking Broan Space Navy!

“Breakout complete. All systems are nominal,” Mark reported.

“Very well, Mr. Rykand,” Captain Harris replied. “Log our arrival. Mr. Campano! Begin deceleration. Ms. Sopwell! Start your infrared sweep of the vicinity. Find me an ice ball large enough to hide behind.”

The normal space navigator and the sensor operator acknowledged their orders. Normal space engines came online and the ship began to slow its headlong rush toward the star as weight returned.

“Communications!”

“Yes, Captain?” came the reply from the ship’s comm center.

“Start your sweep with the comm laser. Make sure that you don’t point it within 30 degrees of the star. Let me know when you get a response.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The general tension began to ebb away as it was overcome by the routine bustle of a ship in space. The next few hours (or days) would be filled with looking for a point from which they could surreptitiously observe this system. The scanning laser beam was intended to find
Galloping Ghost
. Not wanting to alert the locals, they were using the narrow beam of a comm laser as though it were radar, hoping to alert
Ghost
to their location.

Ghost
, of course, was doing the same thing.

When they caught sight of one another, the two ships would tie themselves together with the same comm lasers they were using for the search. They would then take up their individual observation stations. The stations would be far enough apart that should one ship be discovered and attacked by the enemy — unlikely at this distance from the star — the other could make good their escape, but close enough to provide mutual support, should that become necessary.

Most people had no concept of just how large a star system was. Gazing at the tiny blazing dot in the middle of the viewscreen, Mark was beginning to get a good idea.

#

New Hope
did not find a single snowball behind which to hide. They found a dozen of them. The dimly glowing conglomerations of nitrogen, helium, oxygen, and water ice orbited one another in a loose gravitationally bound group, their blue surfaces dimly illuminated by the distant star.