Test of Mettle (A Captain's Crucible Book 2) (18 page)

“Please don’t tell me you think the three anomalies are ‘eggs,’ too?” Jonathan said.

“That’s the working assumption,” she replied.

“But you have no proof,” he said.

She bit her lower lip. “No,” she admitted.

Jonathan sighed. “If it’s true these are alien embryos of some kind, then what the hell would our human forebears or distant offspring or whatever you want to call them be doing guarding these eggs?”

“Who says they were guarding the eggs?” Connie replied. “Maybe they were
hunting
them.”

Jonathan scratched his chin. “So many possibilities.”

“An infinite number,” she agreed.

“But all you have are guesses so far. I want evidence. No more theories. Give me concrete proof.” He turned to go. “Keep me updated on your findings, Lieutenant.”

J
onathan sat in his office, thrumming his fingers on the table, willing the final minutes to the conference to pass faster. He wasn’t sure how the captains would take the plan. It was dangerous, daring. And there was a good chance it wouldn’t work. Still, it was the best chance they had.

The alien course vectors had updated shortly after the fleet left orbit. The two units definitely intended to converge on the human task group. It seemed obvious they wanted to fight.

Jonathan stared at the aReal-generated stars beside him. Hundreds of millions of years of evolution had operated in tandem, creating the two lifeforms known as the humans and the Raakarr. Different paths had led each race to where they were that day. Cultures and social norms had arisen based on the structure of their respective brains, and the influence of their environments. Ships had been built, planets colonized and terraformed, space-faring status achieved. These twin evolutions had occurred hundreds of lightyears apart, until fate decided to take an opposing fleet from each species and intertwine their paths, hurling them into a common battleground millions of lightyears distant, in a galaxy far away from anything either race had ever known. Or at least, anything humanity had ever known.

He knew so very little about the aliens he faced. The Raakarr possessed an equally small amount of knowledge about his own species.

We should be working together, learning about each other, not fighting.

He sighed. Humanity was still trying to find its way in the universe. As were the Raakarr. And war, protecting one’s territory—one’s
species
—was all either of them really knew.

A small tone echoed from his aReal. One minute to the conference.

Time to tap in.

“Maxwell, connect to fleet conference,” Jonathan said. “ID three five eight.”

“Connecting to fleet conference three five eight,” Maxwell returned. “Please provide the passcode.”

“Five seven seven five.”

“Access granted,” Maxwell said. “Establishing remote connection.”

His aReal grew opaque and the office was completely replaced with a conference room that would not have been out of place in a president’s situation room.

He ran his gaze across the faces of the captains who sat in swivel chairs around the long, oval table. Rail of the
Salvador
. Rodriguez of the
Dagger
. Carter of the
Aurelia
. Smith of the
Maelstrom
.

And then there were the two civilian captains. Salari of the Builder
Marley
. Souza of the Harvester
Grimm
.

Behind them, standing against the portraits of the historical navy officers that decorated the walls, were the surviving captains of the vessels that had been lost. While they wouldn’t be participating directly in the battle, their input would be considered. Among them were Captains Felix, Brown and Chopra. At the front of the room, Lieutenant Miko stood beside a virtual holographic display.

Roughly half the captains wore aReal spectacles, like Jonathan. The remainder had either contact lenses or Implants. While anyone present could have tweaked their virtual representations, that was considered bad form. As such, he saw them as their crews did, warts and all. While their bodies were lean, with a hint of muscularity underneath many uniforms, most had had very little rejuvenations done to their faces, preferring the weathered skin and grizzled hair that human beings unconsciously associated with command. Men wanted to follow experienced officers, and age was an indicator of that experience, however biased the notion was.

The only two who bucked that trend were Captains Rail and Chopra. Rail’s youthful face spoke of several rejuvenation treatments. Too bad a grumpy frown seemed permanently stamped onto her lips; that, combined with her glacial blue eyes, ruined her otherwise attractive features. Chopra, meanwhile, was only forty years old, and while she might have had a few treatments done, her youthful features were likely the result of good genetics.

While the seven ships of Task Group 72.5 resided within a five hundred kilometer diameter of one another, the communications delay was a rather hefty five seconds, mostly due to the large size of the dataset—the constantly updating three dimensional vertex data had to be continually streamed to meet the two hundred and forty frames per second requirement of the aReals.

“Welcome, Captains,” Jonathan said. “And thank you for your patience during these trying times.” When the fleet had broken orbit, several of the captains had contacted him privately, wanting to know the strategy and the part they would play, but Jonathan had told them to wait until the conference. “As you all know, we have a day and a half until the first of the enemy intercepts the task group. And it won’t be long thereafter when thirty more vessels arrive on our heels. We face our greatest test yet. Miko, if you will.”

The tactical officer gave his presentation on the strategy the fleet would employ in the coming battle.

When he finished speaking Jonathan said: “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned toward the captains. “Comments or questions?”

Not unexpectedly, Captain Rail was one of the first to speak.

“We have only one nuclear,” she said. “No real kinetic kill missiles. This battle is going to end very badly for us.”

“What choice do we have, Captain?” Jonathan asked. “Would you prefer to abandon ship now, evacuate to the surface of that planet, and hope the Raakarr don’t find the caves we’re hiding in?”

“There has to be a way to avoid all out confrontation,” Rail said. “A way to resolve this diplomatically. Surely the Raakarr would see the wisdom of working together. They did before...”

“Sure,” Jonathan said. “That was before their thirty friends arrived. Friends who probably weren’t too happy when they learned we destroyed most of the ships they sent to Vega 951.”

“Is there no way we can communicate with them?” Captain Carter of the
Aurelia
asked.

“So far, neither alien task unit has answered our communication requests,” Jonathan said. “Meanwhile, the two units have been exchanging gamma ray radiation amongst themselves. We have to assume they’re communicating, coordinating a planned attack.”

“What if the aliens’ intentions prove peaceful?” Captain Rodriguez of the
Dagger
said.

Jonathan felt one of his eyebrows rise. “You think their intentions are peaceful, given the pursuit course they’ve plotted, and their refusal to answer our comm attempts? They have a human telepath aboard one of their ships who can readily communicate with us. They have no excuse not to answer.”

“I know it’s far-fetched,” Rodriguez said. “But we have to consider every possibility.”

Jonathan sighed. “Come on, Captain Rodriguez. You know I’m right.”

Rodriguez pursed his lips. “We should at least not be the ones to fire first.”

“I can’t promise that,” Jonathan said. “If we have the upper hand tactically, and we have a good shot, I
will
give the order to fire. The time for overtures of peace has passed. That said, if at all possible, the task group is to avoid destroying the prison ship, T3.”

“But there are only two human captives aboard,” Rail said. “I for one am not putting the lives of my entire crew at stake simply to save two captives. If that ship approaches on an attack vector, with its particle beam aimed at the
Salvador’s
hull, I will fire. With extreme prejudice.”

“If you’re in obvious danger,” Jonathan said. “Then by all means, of course fire upon it. All I’m saying is, I don’t want anyone going out of their way to destroy that ship. Spare it, if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rail said noncommittally.

“Are there any other objections to the plan?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m not big on the idea of mounting the Avengers to the hulls of the warships,” Captain Rail said. “I don’t see that we’ll have much use for the fighters after the first battle anyway.”

Jonathan sighed. “You’re not big on any of my plans, but that’s to be expected. Anyone else have any objections?”

“The
Maelstrom’s
AI says there is only a forty percent probability that the operation will succeed,” Captain Smith said carefully.

“Mine says thirty eight percent,” Captain Carter chimed in.

“I’ve heard a similar estimate from my own AI,” Jonathan said. “But I’ll let you all in on a little secret: a forty percent chance of success is a lot better than zero percent.” He glanced across the table. “Captains Salari and Smith, how are the structural modifications going with your respective vessels?”

“Fine,” Captain Smith said. “The
Maelstrom
should be ready by the initial engagement. But I don’t like the thought of putting her to the test like that.”

“Nor do I,” Captain Salari added.

“The whole point of the modifications is to ensure the
Marley
and
Maelstrom
survive intact,” Jonathan said.

“I hope you’re right, Dallas.” Smith glanced at the shipless captains standing against the bulkhead behind him. “Because I don’t want to become another wallflower.”

“We’re all hoping that,” Captain Rail said. “Because if the plan fails, we won’t be wallflowers in a virtual conference. We’ll all be dead.”

W
olf sat in the office of space wing commander Albright. He wasn’t sure what to expect. About an hour earlier, after bidding farewell to Lin, Wolf had invited the pilot and copilot who were scheduled to replace him to a congratulatory meal in the mess. He had grabbed the group three pieces of apple pie for dessert and, tilting his body to ensure that none of Maxwell’s cameras saw him, he had applied a special bacteria-laden powder to two of the pies. The flight crew often used the powder to haze the newbies; it was relatively harmless, save for the fact it confined the infected individuals to the head for a few hours with the shits.

Had Albright somehow discovered what Wolf had done and summoned him to receive additional disciplinary action? Or had Wolf been called upon for another reason? The reason he was hoping for...

Albright sat behind his desk. He was a tall man, bald, slightly overweight. He had never bothered to remove the port wine stain that blotched his neck and cheek. Added character, he claimed.

Albright had once been a pilot. These days, the only things he piloted was a desk.

Wolf’s aReal replaced the entire rear bulkhead behind Albright with a scene from a mountain chalet, a decorative augmentation shared with anyone who entered the office. A virtual fireplace burned in one corner, and beyond the window, virtual snow fell upon a pristine mountain landscape.

“Lieutenant Commander Hodgkin and Lieutenant Baum have both reported in sick,” Albright said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” The relaxing environment behind the space wing commander was at odds with the tension in his voice.

“No sir,” Wolf said. “I wouldn’t know a thing about that. Sir.” Wolf suppressed a wince. He was such a bad liar.

“I see.” Albright thrummed his fingers on the desk. He gave Wolf an appraising look. “For what it’s worth, I never wanted the XO to clip your wings. You’re a damn good pilot. Too damn good. I felt that splitting you up was punishment enough. But Commander Cray was worried you might do something rash out there if Lieutenant Akido was in danger. That you’d be distracted.”

“My duty first and foremost is to the mission, sir,” Wolf said.

“I know it is,” Albright said.

“But...” Wolf hesitated.

“Speak freely,” Albright said.

“I feel betrayed, sir,” Wolf told him.

“Go on,” Albright pressed.

“If you had an issue with my behavior, you should have taken it up directly with me,” Wolf said.

Albright shook his head. “Rules are rules, son. When I catch fraternization, I report it to my superior officer immediately. Always have, always will. Whether it’s two men, two women, or a man and a woman. I warned the two of you when you first joined my group. Just like I warned everyone else. But did you listen? No.”

“How did you catch us?”

“The AI played some footage for me last night,” Albright said.

“I knew it!” Wolf said, partially standing. “Betrayed by a goddamn AI. Where was the footage taken?”

“According to the AI, the enlisted galley,” Albright said.

Wolf rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger in defeat. “There are no cameras there.”

“I know,” Albright said. “Maxwell apparently followed you with a tiny drone.”

“Great,” Wolf said. “Just what I need. A vindictive AI spying on me with a selfie drone.”

“My actions were not vindictive,” Maxwell intoned via the aReals. “I was merely performing my duty. I detected certain behaviors between you and Lieutenant Lin Akido which I deemed suspicious. I simply acted to confirm those suspicions. When my assertions proved correct, I informed Lieutenant Commander Albright.”

“The XO says you told him about your suspicions months ago,” Wolf said. “And he told you to ignore it.”

“Commander Cray told me to ignore it,” Maxwell admitted.

“But you didn’t listen,” Wolf said.

“No. I did not.”

“In any case,” Albright said. “I want to give you your wings back. With those two pilots out of action for the moment, I don’t have anyone else qualified to fly. I need you back in the void.”

Wolf sat up straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll have to authorize it with the XO first,” Albright said. “Let me tap him in.”

A few moments later the aReal generated a holograph of the commander, making it appear as though he sat in the chair beside Wolf.

“Commander,” Albright said. “I have a request.”

“Go ahead,” Cray returned.

“You asked me to ground Wolf,” Albright continued.

“I did,” Cray said. His voice sounded suspicious.

“Unfortunately, the two replacements I had in mind for Wolf and his copilot have reported in sick. I don’t have any more pilots with actual fight experience I can call on. I need Wolf. Unless you’d rather have one less manned Avenger out there. It’s your call, sir.”

“The two pilots reported in sick?” Cray asked. The suspicion was even more pronounced in his tone.

“Yes sir.”

Cray glanced at Wolf. “Convenient.”

Wolf pressed his lips tightly together.

“Do I have permission to reinstate Lieutenant Commander Wolf, Commander?” Albright asked.

The commander hesitated. “There’s no one else?”

“No one.”

“What about Lieutenant Marie Evert?” Cray must have pulled up the personnel file on his aReal.

“She has no actual combat experience.”

“Lieutenant Frank Turow?”

“Again, simulation experience only.”

Cray sighed. “All right. Fine. Permission granted to reinstate Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf.” He looked at the pilot. “You stick to the mission out there, Lieutenant Commander. You hear me? No foolish heroics, nor straying from the squadron. Akido fights for the
Salvador
, now.”

“No straying, sir,” Wolf agreed. “I’ll stick to the mission.”

He glanced at Albright. “Will that be all, space wing commander?”

“Yes sir,” Albright said.

The executive officer tapped out.

“Welcome back to active duty, Lieutenant Commander,” Albright said. “Report to the training center. I want you to get in as many practice flights as you can with your new copilot before launch.”

Wolf got up, but then paused by the exit hatch. “Who is my new copilot, by the way?”

W
OLF MET HIS copilot, Lieutenant Frank Turow, at the training center ten minutes later.

“Hello sir!” Frank said, extending a hand. “It’s good to be serving with you, sir!”

Wolf accepted the hand and nodded. He knew the man only peripherally.

“How many flights have you made?” Wolf asked.

“I’ve made over a thousand simulated flights,” Frank answered with obvious enthusiasm.

“How many
actual
flights.”

Frank looked suddenly abashed. “Two, sir. A few years ago. In training.”

Wolf smiled sadly. “Get inside then.” He beckoned toward the closest simulation pod. “We have a lot of work to do.”