The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4) (43 page)

Ludendorff stared at him.

“You should have brought all the pieces down at once,” Maddox said. “It was the multiple trips to
Victory
that caused me to remember it.”

Ludendorff shrugged. “There was no way around that, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm,” Maddox said. “Who are you intending to call?”

“Given your intelligence, you should have already figured that one out.”

“A New Man,” Maddox said.

“Correct.”

“You’re going to tell him…” Maddox frowned. “Ah, you’re going to tell him about the Swarm and Commander Thrax Ti Ix, I presume.”

Ludendorff nodded.

“Do you believe the Swarm Empire is near Human Space?” Maddox asked.

“I don’t know about the empire, but certainly Swarm warships must be near. At least, it’s a definite possibility, especially given Thrax’s wormhole technology injection into the empire.”

“Why will you tell the New Men?”

“The most obvious reason is because they’re the only one with a receiver who can pick up my transmission. The second reason… I’ve explained it before, Captain, but maybe you’ve forgotten. The New Men aren’t a monolithic group. There are factions among them. Besides, if Swarm bugs are in the universe in force…we finally know the Swarm still exists. I’ve suspected that for quite some time. So has Strand. He believes we must unite humanity into one powerful imperium to face the Swarm. But the Builder informed you that the Swarm Empire holds one tenth of our galaxy. How does one fight an empire with that kind of resources when we hold less than a tiny fraction of that?”

“We may not have to face the Swarm for centuries.”

“Or we may have to face them in two years’ time,” Ludendorff said.

“Two years isn’t long enough to form humanity into a fighting imperium.”

“Which is exactly why I’m sitting here ready to call,” Ludendorff said.

Maddox considered that. “The Commonwealth has Adok technology now. That should help us against the Swarm.”

“For a time, certainly,” Ludendorff said.

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Why call the New Men, any of them? What are you planning to tell them?”

“The truth, Captain. That we’ve found the Swarm. That it’s too late to try to conquer Human Space. We have to rethink our grand strategy.”

“We?” Maddox asked. “Are you aligning yourself with the New Men?”

“Definitely not,” the professor said. “I misspoke. That’s all.”

“Or you made a Freudian slip,” Maddox said.

“Think what you like.”

“Are you suggesting that you’re going to try to convince the New Men not to fight Admiral Fletcher’s Grand Fleet?”

“If I can,” Ludendorff said, “if I’m not too late.”

“If the Grand Fleet survives its encounter with the New Men, humanity will have that many more warships to rearm with our Adok technology. If the New Men knew that, it might cause them to try to annihilate the Grand Fleet at all costs. Maybe it will cause them to attempt to attack Earth before we’re rearmed.”

“I’m aware of the various ramifications,” Ludendorff said. “I’m going to call in order to stop the fighting if I can. I’m not going to tell the New Men—my few allies among them—anything that will encourage them to keep attacking Admiral Fletcher or make a sneak attack on Earth. In light of the Swarm Empire—however far it might be from us—all humans, brilliant or stupid, strong or weak must unite in order to survive the bugs.”

Maddox could see the professor’s logic. The question was: could others switch their focus so easily? Once people were filled with outrage against aggressors, they often did not stop until the others were smashed. Besides, how wise would it be for regular humanity to let the New Men off the hook?

Still, Ludendorff wasn’t trying to stop Fletcher from fighting. He was trying to stop the New Men. What was the right decision? What was happening in “C” Quadrant? Was the Grand Fleet on the verge of success or annihilation?

Maddox picked up his pistol and shoved it in its holster. “Make the call,” he said.

“If you would leave then, please,” Ludendorff said.

“No. I’m going to listen to what you have to say.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on privacy.”

Maddox smiled wanly, waiting.

Finally, Ludendorff scowled, picking up the microphone. He leaned forward and began touching select spots on the ancient communicator.

-54-

The Grand Fleet entered the Thebes System. The fleet had maneuvered through the last star systems with a mixture of daring with the lesser vessels and ultra-caution with the capital ships.

Admiral Fletcher had lost six destroyers and fifteen escort vessels since awakening, but not another capital ship. The journey had also taken longer than Bishop believed reasonable. Now, though, they had arrived in the same system as the New Men’s invasion armada.

Fletcher sat in his chair on Battleship
Antietam’s
bridge. The fleet had come through a Laumer-Point at the outer edge of the system. Now, the fleet began a slow acceleration for Thebes III in the inner system.

The Grand Fleet moved in four separate formations. The outer, thinnest formation stretched before the three blocks of capital ships. The forward vessels were destroyers and missile boats acting as a screen.

The three blocks were each a mixture of Star Watch battleships, Windsor League hammerships, carriers and cruisers of all varieties. Fletcher had configured block each so they had a near parity of numbers and hitting strength.

Altogether, the Grand Fleet possessed 149 capital ships and 182 lesser vessels, making for a total of 331 warships with accompanying supply vessels. It was still an impressive fleet. But would it be a match for the New Men?

Fletcher absorbed the incoming data. The Grand Fleet worked at peak efficiency, sending hard-accelerating probes at the enemy as well as scanning with sensors and watching through advanced teleoptics. It took time to gather the data. But ten hours after arriving in the system, Fletcher had a solid picture of the enemy.

The New Men possessed an incredible
eighty
star cruisers. That was far more than he had counted on—eighty of those bastard vessels with their red fusion beams and unbelievable shields.

If one figured each star cruiser was worth four Star Watch vessels of all kinds, that gave the enemy an equivalent value of 320 warships. That meant the two fleets were nearly equal in fighting power.

Fletcher pondered that. He had three carriers with jump fighters and the new antimatter missiles. He had new wave harmonics shields on his best ships and a good amount of hammerships, which were worth two Star Watch battleships. That would up his number some, possibly giving him an equivalent of 350 to 360 warships.

Of course, the New Men would undoubtedly have a few new wrinkles too.

No matter how Fletcher looked at it, this was going to be a bloodbath. Yet, that was fine with him. He’d come out here to hit the enemy, to drive him out of “C” Quadrant. Unfortunately, so far, Fletcher hadn’t freed any captive people. That bothered him.

The best that he could envision was to smash the invasion armada forever. Eighty star cruisers implied the New Men had brought all their reinforcements from the Throne World. This could well be the full extent of the enemy’s ship power.

The data kept pouring in. There were tens of millions of people on Thebes III. There were also masses of space haulers, tramp vessels and cargo hulls in orbit around the Earthlike world. There were fewer ships than the Patrol vessel had seen almost two weeks ago. That would imply many of the ships had already started for the enemy’s Throne World. Did the haulers carry equipment or Commonwealth people?

The admiral stood unsteadily. A faint feeling washed through him. He hadn’t fully recovered yet from his injuries.

“Sir,” an aide said.

Fletcher waved the nurse aside. He sat back in his chair with a suppressed groan. It wouldn’t do for the bridge crew to report seeing weakness in the admiral.

“Are you feeling well, sir,”
Antietam’s
captain asked him quietly.

Fletcher wasn’t going to say that he felt faint. He motioned the battleship’s captain closer.

She bent low.

“Let Bishop keep giving the overall orders for now,” he whispered. “You can relay that via a shuttle, can’t you?”

“Of course, Admiral,” the captain said. She straightened, hesitated and then asked, “When are you going to let everyone know that you’re back in charge, sir?”

They had decided a week ago to let the fleet know he was recovering but that Bishop held overall command until then. It would be a last minute surprise telling the fleet that Fletcher had returned to command. It would hopefully bolster confidence having him retake the helm at the most critical junction.

In truth, Fletcher still didn’t know if he was ready to run a battle, the most important of his career and possibly for humanity. In his study, he could ponder and come up with plans. They had been doing it like that for almost two weeks, letting Bishop make the day-to-day fleet decisions. It wasn’t the best way to do it, but it had gotten the Grand Fleet this far.

Using his right sleeve, the admiral blotted his forehead. It was sweaty and his breathing had become ragged, but still he waited. He didn’t want to stagger off the bridge.

“Sir,” the nurse said again.

Fletcher angrily waved the man back. Then, he gripped the armrests of his chair, wondering what his enemy counterparts were thinking in the inner system.

-55-

Strand was furious but he kept a calm, serene face before the assembled commanders of the armada.

The Methuselah Man hadn’t seen so many free-minded New Men for quite some time. Those of his cloaked star cruiser had all gone under the knife. Strand only trusted those he utterly controlled. Attending this meeting was a calculated risk, one he hadn’t taken for quite some time.

It was a strange feeling, an angering sensation, really. Still, he knew that it was important for his survival to take risks now and again. If one tried to remain safe every second, he lost his edge given enough time. Survival literally demanded a few risks to keep ennui at bay. Limited risks also helped keep his mind sharp.

Strand had safeguards in place, of course, but it was wise not to fool himself into thinking these assembled commanders were completely harmless to him. They were eighty of the deadliest beings alive, the commanders of eighty star cruisers. Combined with his own cloaked star cruiser and the hidden mines strewn through the system—they would crush the arrogant humans in their oversized fleet. It had taken time bringing eighty star cruisers to one system. This represented the entire power of the Throne World, here, today, in this place.

“I suggest we make a reversal,” Golden Ural said.

Everyone attending the meeting stood, even old Strand. Each New Man and the Methuselah Man stood behind a podium in a vast circle, facing each other. In the center of the chamber was a holoimage of the Thebes System, showing the advancing Grand Fleet among other things.

What a vain and grandiose title the humans give their
Grand
Fleet
, Strand thought.

“A reversal in what manner?” a New Man named Ba Lars asked.

Golden Ural fixed his intense gaze on Strand. Ural was the tallest New Man in the room. He radiated strength and determination. He was the Emperor’s man and the commander of the armada, fresh from the Throne World.

“The Swarm exists,” Golden Ural said.

Strand became more alert than usual. The phrasing of the thought implied…

“That is an interesting assertion,” Strand said. “Perhaps you can explain it in greater detail.”

“The Swarm has an empire of vast extent,” Golden Ural said.

“How vast?” asked Strand.

“One tenth of our galaxy,” Golden Ural said.

“Nonsense,” Strand said. “You cannot possibly know such a thing.”

“If I did know,” Golden Ural said, “then what?”

Strand realized that the only one who might know such a thing would be the Builder. It had disappeared a long time ago. Could Ludendorff have spoken with the Builder recently? If so, that would imply Golden Ural had been in contact with that sissy meddler. That was a dangerous change indeed.

“You say the Swarm exists,” Strand said. “Tell us. How near is their closest star system?”

“That is unknown,” Golden Ural admitted.

“I believe it is most likely that the Swarm is thousands of light-years from us,” Strand said.

“I would agree that is the most likely possibility.”

Strand shrugged. “Such a distance means that struggling against the Swarm is for our descendants far in the future.”

“Even though I think an event is unlikely,” Golden Ural said, “it can still be. Thus, the Swarm could be near. The truth is we do not know their distance from us.”

“I submit that you also do not know that the Swarm exists,” Strand said. “That was a spurious statement just now and I give it no weight. Which of you here will act on a rumor generated through sheer fright due to the thought of facing the sub-men?”

As one, the New Men turned to Golden Ural, no doubt to see his reaction.

The tallest of them appeared unconcerned with Strand’s outrageous slander. It was one of his keys to power, his ability to shrug off what would send others into a killing frenzy.

“The turtle daring to peek out of its shell would speak to us of courage,” Golden Ural said in a lofty tone. “Mighty Strand, who is ready to flee our meeting in an instant lest one of us dares to test his immortality, knows much about
fright
.”

A few of the New Men nodded as Strand grew hyper-alert. Golden Ural had just obliquely threatened him.

“See how he watches us, brothers,” Golden Ural said. “He fears us because we are his superior.”

In that moment, Strand seethed with hatred against Golden Ural. But he cloaked it, saying, “I invite you aboard my star cruiser, Commander. Show me your courage by accepting my invitation.”

“Sweet Strand,” Golden Ural said, “who dares to open a New Man’s skull in order to put his filthiness in the brain. No, I will decline your offer, you who used to call himself our master.”

“You tread on dangerous ground,” Strand warned.

Golden Ural showed his teeth. “The lone wolf snarls, trying to frighten the pack by its fierceness. You are not one of us, Methuselah Man. You are alone in this universe, alone with your intricate schemes.”

“Whatever I am,” Strand said, “you are evading the issue. How do you know anything about the Swarm?”

“The professor told me.”

So, it was true. That meddler Ludendorff had a long-range communication device. It would appear that Golden Ural did as well. It amazed Strand that Ural would freely admit to this.

“Observe,” Golden Ural said. He picked up a clicker.

The holoimage in the center of the chamber changed, showing a Dyson sphere. Out of it flew saucers against attacking Star Watch vessels. A close-up showed a destroyed saucer. The squirming creatures in space were undoubtedly bugs in spacesuits. A ghostly column appeared, leaving an exploding Dyson sphere.

“The surviving Swarm creatures go to their empire,” Golden Ural said. “There, one of them will give the bug empire Laumer Drive technology.”

“This is an interesting fabrication you’ve created,” Strand said. “I congratulate you on your deception. I imagine some here will even be fooled by it.”

“You still do not understand,” Golden Ural said. “The Swarm is real. The bugs are not extinct as we believed. We must prepare for them. We have what we came for, women in abundance and workers to help us open up a hundred new worlds. Why risk our armada in battle when we may need these ships tomorrow or a vast host of them ten years from now?”

Strand ingested the idea, mulling it over. Could Golden Ural be right? Could Ludendorff finally have reached the Builder’s system? This was thunderous news if true.

“The Grand Fleet won’t give up without a fight,” Strand said. “The subhumans surely believe themselves capable of destroying us.”

“I have a way out of the impasse,” Golden Ural said.

“You have begun to teach them how to fight,” Strand added. “They have evaded several critical traps. They have become more cunning.”

“I have studied the battle files,” Golden Ural said. “Admiral Fletcher evaded the various traps. It appears your assassin killed him. You must have recognized Fletcher’s danger and decided to eliminate him.”

“I did eliminate him,” Strand said. “He had become one of those rare great captains the subhumans vomit up from time to time. Since Fletcher’s death, Third Admiral Bishop has blundered his way to the Thebes System.”

“Therefore,” Golden Ural said. “Since Fletcher is dead, the risk is less to us in letting the subhumans live. After we leave Human Space, we will send scouts deep into the Beyond. If the Swarm is still far off, we can regroup and smash the sub-men several years from now. They will grow careless in time as they always do, squabbling among themselves like children.”

This would not be Strand’s first choice. “How do you propose convincing the subhumans they should not attack our star cruisers?”

Golden Ural told him his idea.

Afterward, Strand nodded. The Emperor’s commander was cunning and ruthless. Stand would rather smash the Grand Fleet now and continue the conquest of Human Space. Still, Golden Ural had a point. The New Men had what they had originally come for. Maybe this time around, Strand could keep better control of the situation. He would bargain with the Emperor, getting new seed corn so he could go far away in the Beyond and start again, making sure he kept complete control forever of his creations.