Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

We left the bodies to the medical staffers then, after making sure the repair robots were thoroughly inoperable.

“These repair machines are untrustworthy,” I said. “They were built by the Stroj after all, right Zye?”

“That is what I said.”

“Right. They were a trade good you purchased from the Stroj long ago. Now, these robots have turned on my crew.”

Zye tapped at her faceplate thoughtfully. “I too, find this fact disturbing. When we Betas originally forged a deal with the Stroj, our engineers determined the robots couldn’t possibly attack any Beta. Perhaps our Alphas miscalculated.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe the Stroj followed the letter of the agreement you had with them. They can’t attack Betas—but they can attack Earth men.”

She conceded that this might be the case. When the hold was declared clear of enemies we retired to our conference room. There were many things to discuss and plans to be made.

The intrusion of the Stroj onto my ship changed everything from the point of view of Earth, but did little to alter our mission.
Defiant
must find a way out of hyperspace and determine where she was after she came out.

Would there be Stroj ships waiting for us when we exited hyperspace at last? Or something far more deadly? We had no way of knowing.

-7-

The intrusion of the Stroj onto my ship changed everything from the point of view of Earth, but did little to alter our mission. As
Defiant’s
captain, my first priority was to find a way out of hyperspace and determine where we were once we came out—that had not changed.

Would there be Stroj ships waiting for us when we exited hyperspace at last? Or perhaps something even more deadly? We had no way of knowing.

Defiant’s
crew had grown to nearly three hundred individuals by the time we’d left Earth, but it was a tribute to the ship’s size that the decks still felt empty at times. Marching down the passages to a spacious conference room, I joined a meeting that was already in progress.

XO Durris was guiding the group, but he sat down when I entered the room. He’d reported back to duty sooner than I would have liked, but he’d at least gotten a little sleep. Given the treacherous attack on our hold, he had a good reason to join us, so I didn’t order him back to his bunk.

The topic of discussion was the attack itself, and its ramifications.

“It’s my opinion, sir,” Durris said as he sat ramrod straight in his chair, “that the enemy probably planted some kind of explosive device on the ship before exiting. Their hasty departure makes no sense otherwise.”

“If you’re right,” I said, “they probably did it long ago.”

Durris blinked at me. “Why do you think that, sir?”

“Recall their behavior before we left Earth. They picked fights with me, with you—with every officer on the ship. Let me ask this: did any of you like O’Donnell or her team?”

They all shook their heads.

“Just so,” I continued. “They purposefully worked to irritate us, then they requested a transfer off
Defiant
before we left orbit. It must have seemed like a sure thing—but we didn’t let them go.”

Rumbold leaned forward and cleared his throat. “I was meaning to ask you about that part, Captain… why didn’t you let O’Donnell and her people bug out when they wanted to?”

“Because Halsey wouldn’t allow it. We didn’t have time to train anyone else for the job.”

The group nodded.

Durris spoke up next. “If these suppositions are true,” he said, “we’re still in danger. After all, they must have jumped ship for a reason.”

“I agree,” I said. “We’ll have to search the ship from the top to the bottom. Yamada, go over everything these three engineers did. Pull files on security camera data, the works. We have to know what they might have compromised. It might not be a bomb, but rather a simple weakening of a vital component. We just don’t know.”

Everyone looked alarmed as they pondered the magnitude of searching this vast ship to find an unknown fault. We’d considered the matter to be at an end. We’d assumed that once the Stroj were off the ship they were no longer a danger—but we couldn’t count on it.

The Stroj had operated right under our noses. Even though we’d all failed to detect them, I could tell Zye was feeling responsible. She was our chief of security, after all. She probably felt she should have caught the attack before it happened.

“You’re right, sir,” Zye said with a grim expression. “Anything could have been compromised. They wouldn’t have left the ship if their work hadn’t been done. I’ll review every log I can dig up on their activities. There must be some kind of a record...”

“Good,” I said, then I turned to Durris. “First Officer, I want you to spearhead the effort.”

“I don’t know if I’m right for the job, sir,” he said. “I’ve already been fooled once. Perhaps another would be—”

“No,” I said firmly.

Durris was being Durris again. He was an excellent officer, but he was a little too quick to blame himself for every error. This made him meticulous and thorough—but also somewhat lacking in self-confidence. That was probably the primary reason he’d yet to earn a command of his own.

“I have every confidence in you,” I continued, speaking in a firm voice. “I have confidence in
all
of you. Remember, I missed the enemy spies too. This is our chance to rectify that error.”

The meeting broke up, and I moved on to even less savory duties. Gathering most of the ship’s complement of spacers, I committed our three lost comrades to float eternally in hyperspace. I wondered, as I shot them out into a formless gray void between vague reference points, whether their souls would ever find true peace out here.

That evening, a tone sounded at my cabin door. I’d removed my overcoat, but I quickly put it back on again and let the coat cinch-up its ties. It wouldn’t do for a crewman to see me lounging after having conducted a painful funeral.

The door chimed a second time before I reached it. Could that be irritation shining through in the attitude of my visitor? That was my impression.

I dissolved the door and looked at Lady Grantholm in surprise.

“Dinner…” I said after we’d stared at one another for a few seconds.

“That’s why I’m here, yes,” she said. She knit her brows together giving me an up-down look of disapproval. “Don’t tell me you forgot, William? I’m your Great Aunt. Captain or not, one would think—”

“I’m sorry, Lady. Won’t you enter and dine with me?”

She swept by me with a sniff. Seeing there was no food laid out, much less a sumptuous repast fitting her station, she muttered under her breath.

“What was that, Lady?”

“I said one would think you’d forgotten your upbringing. Are you a Sparhawk, or a simple guardsman?”

“Both, madam,” I said evenly, but the truth was, she was getting on my nerves. “You must excuse my distraction. I lost three crewmen and learned three others were traitors today.”

Grantholm stepped away and made a fluttering gesture over her shoulder with painted fingers. “Commoners, William. Don’t tie up your mind or your emotions with them. They live short, brutal lives. They’re important of course—but not worthy of grief for a person of your station.”

My jaw muscles clenched. “I disagree,” I said. “Vehemently.”

She glanced at me and pursed her lips. “Let’s discuss more important matters. We have things to iron out between us.”

“Such as?”

“Your role and mine as we exit this bridge. You’re in command of this ship. You rule your crew and this vessel in every respect.”

“I’m glad you understand the situation thoroughly.”

“But,” she said loudly. She flicked up one of her painted fingers toward my cabin’s ceiling. The tip was a glossy lavender. “
I
command this mission beyond the limits of this ship’s hull.”

I frowned at her. “Meaning?”

“Don’t be dense, Sparhawk. I mean if we meet other colonists, I’ll do the talking. You’re to stand by silently, flying your ship with dignity. Do you understand?”

“I take it from your overly dramatic statements that you think I might try to upstage you somehow?”

She tilted her head to the left. “You have a certain reputation. You bulled your way back to Earth in this ship, and you earned command of her. But that doesn’t mean you’re a king. You’re a captain in Star Guard—that’s all. The position is comparable to that of a ferry pilot.”

“A ferry pilot?” I demanded incredulously.

“I’m sorry if I may seem rude. I find it’s best to speak bluntly when important details of command are being worked out.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” I said. “I’m in command of
Defiant
. I plan to leave the diplomacy up to you, Ambassador. Nothing else has ever entered my mind.”

“Excellent. Now, what are we eating?”

I ordered up a platter of pine-spiced meats, dried fruit and a bottle of sparkling wine. This last item raised Grantholm’s eyebrows, but she accepted a glass from the cabin steward without complaint.

Once we were in a more social atmosphere, the Lady’s attitude softened. She turned the conversation to House Astra—and more specifically, my intentions toward the Lady of that House.

“Chloe is a fine-looking girl,” she said. “She’s young, but she seems to be level-headed. The loss of her mother was tragic.”

I knew as a matter of fact that my Aunt hadn’t been able to stand the Elder Lady of House Astra, but I gave no hint of this. Powerful people from rival Houses always believed it was the best course to praise the dead.

“That said,” she continued, “I think you should drop your dalliances with her. What’s wrong with a nice Grantholm girl? House Astra individuals are our traditional enemies.”

I nearly spit a cream-stuffed croissant back onto the platter with the rest. Chloe had ended our relationship officially, but that didn’t mean I wanted my Aunt telling me who to consort with.

“What?” I demanded. “Listen here, Aunt—”

“—Ambassador,” she corrected quickly.

“Ambassador Grantholm,” I amended, “I’m in charge of more than this ship. I’m in charge of my private life as well.”

She made a small sniffing noise and drank her wine. “Never mind then, boy. I was just testing your resolve.”

“What?”

“I wanted to get a reaction out of you. I can see you’re serious about guiding your own destiny.”

“I am,” I said, “let me assure you.”

She nodded slowly. “Good enough then.”

“Lady, on another point, I do wish you’d start treating me in a manner appropriate to my station.”

For the first time, she looked surprised. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m a Star Guard captain. Despite my young age, I am in command of the only Earth starship capable of interstellar travel. That makes me a critical member of our military. I’m
not
a ferry pilot.”

She shrugged. “I’m well aware of your career accomplishments, but I don’t see how I’ve mistreated you.”

“You haven’t mistreated me—not exactly. But you’re behaving as if I’m still a teen at a family gathering. A favored son, perhaps, or an entertaining youth with a spark of talent. I’m far more than that now.”

She stared at me for a second. “Perhaps you’re right, William. You should remember that I’m an oldster, after all. Once one goes past the first century of life, it becomes more difficult to accept the rapid growth of the young into adulthood. Now, if you’d be so kind as to allow me to retire. I’m afraid I’ve been fatigued by this journey, and I must leave you now.”

“A pity,” I said, but despite the anger I was feeling, I realized I’d at least managed to finally engage her in a real conversation.

I saw her out. When she’d gone, I up-ended the half-empty bottle of sparkling wine. The nerve of the woman! She’d pushed and pushed until I’d been forced to push back.

I was left wondering what she might have demanded next if I’d agreed to stop seeing Chloe. She’d said something about Grantholm girls—maybe she’d have asked that I start courting one of her own daughters.

They were not ugly women, but they had questionable track records in terms of romance. All of them had been married more than once—unions which hadn’t lasted. They were pushy like their mother, twice my age, and my cousins by blood. The entire idea was preposterous.

I soon fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of women in black gowns demanding things from me. In the morning, I awoke groggy but determined.

A shower and a careful morning routine improved my mood dramatically—but I was still determined. Lady Grantholm wasn’t going to treat me like an errand boy on my own ship any longer.

-8-

It took a full week to find the exit out of hyperspace. In the end, we’d managed to map out the polynomial curve and plotted our way to our destination. Only a nine-degree variation in our course was required to hit the exit squarely—but after travelling a billion kilometers, such a small variance made a great deal of difference.

“Steady on,” I ordered. “Helmsman, you’re speeding up. I ordered no acceleration on the final approach.”

“Sorry sir,” Rumbold replied. “I must have missed that point in the briefing.”

Frowning, I looked at him in surprise. “Rumbold? How did you get back into that chair? Where’s my pilot? Did you do away with her?”

“I was simply next on the roster, sir,” he said without looking over his shoulder at me. “She must have stepped out and called for a replacement. Perhaps she’s not feeling well. Hyperspace can do that to people—or so I’ve heard.”

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. Once had been a coincidence. Twice… Rumbold must have pulled something to get his rump back into the pilot’s seat on both the entry and the exit from hyperspace.

Slightly annoyed, I considered ordering him below decks and summoning my regular pilot. After a moment’s further consideration however, I dropped the idea. After all, he’d done well when we’d entered the bridge initially. Technically, that made him the most experienced living pilot in Star Guard when it came to steering a vessel through the dangerous transition into hyperspace.

What concerned me now, however, was our successful exit from the ER bridge. We had no idea where we’d end up. If rapid course adjustments were to become suddenly necessary…

“All right,” I said. “You can stay in the pilot’s chair today. But if any more roster changes are made on future occasions, I’ll bust you down to swabbing decks with a power-mop.”

“Understood, Captain,” he said with visible relief.

“Time, Yamada?”

“Displaying it now. Our calculations should be correct to within a two-second span.”

One of the alarming things about hyperspace was the tendency of the entry and exit points to shift during flight. They were hard to find in the first place—and they were moving targets.

We watched as the timer ticked down. Now and then it froze for two or three seconds, recalculating. At other times it jumped forward a few heartbeats. It was disconcerting.

“Requesting permission to increase speed by five percent, Captain,” Rumbold said. “We’re going fast enough to puncture the barrier, but we’ve got very little margin. If it shifts away just as we reach the point of no return—”

“Permission denied,” I said smoothly. “I want to be able to maneuver when we come out if we have to evade something.”

“Understood, sir.”

After watching Rumbold for a few moments thoughtfully, I looked over at Zye. “Lieutenant, I want you to keep an eye on our pilot. If he fails to perform in some way, you have my permission to intercede and take over his station.”

“A wise precaution,” she said.

Rumbold muttered something I didn’t catch. He kept his hands on the controls and his eyes on the screens.

Then suddenly, the clock surged forward. It went from forty seconds to seven. Everyone on the command deck gasped.

“There!” Rumbold shouted. “A huge shift!”

“Yes—but the exit moved closer to us,” Zye said. “So far every shift has brought it closer.”

“You can’t count on that…” he muttered.

There was no more time for talk. We hit the barrier a few moments later and broke through into normal space.

The process of exiting hyperspace was somewhat more jarring than what one experiences when entering. I think it was mostly a psychological thing. Going from a universe full of stars to a dark vacant place was less alarming than switching from blankness and quiet into the swirling maelstrom of our home universe.

What riveted the attention of everyone on the deck was the looming presence of a vast, orange-colored star. It was close—too close.

“Prepare for evasive action,” I said.

“Which way, sir?” Rumbold asked.

My crew was already trying to come up with answers in this regard.

“Durris, give him a course,” I said, trying to sound calm. The gamma radiation readings were already on the rise. The star would cook us if we got too close.

My XO had the in-flight duty of operating tactical navigation. That meant he was in charge of deciding our short-term flight path. He worked with his screen making rapid calculations.

“The star’s corona is venting from the northern pole,” Yamada said from the sensor boards, “I’d recommend we dive south.”

“Sir, there’s a planet-sized body in that direction,” Durris said. “It appears to be artificial in nature.”

They all looked at me. Already, I could feel a gravitational tug. We were within the star’s reach. Soon, that would make maneuvering more difficult.

“Dive south,” I ordered Rumbold. “Head for the artificial construct. It’s probably located there for a good reason.”

The ship swooped sickeningly. Rumbold wasn’t sparing any power. Fortunately,
Defiant
had plenty of it.

The next half-hour was harrowing, but we managed to get ourselves onto a stable flight path. We skirted the star, decelerating continuously. Our target was the strange structure that sat locked in a synchronous orbit below the star’s southern pole.

By the time we felt our situation was no longer immediately dangerous, we’d made a series of discoveries about the alien system.

“There are no records of this star system in our Earth documents,” Yamada said with certainty. “To our knowledge no one from Earth has ever been here before.”

“How far are we from the Solar System?” I asked.

“About thirty-five light-years,” Durris answered for the navigational team. “As far as we can tell, this is Gliese-32, a star system marked for exploration, but which was never definitively scouted before the Cataclysm.”

“Well, start recording people,” I said. “Sensors, what do we have?”

“It’s an odd system by any measure,” Yamada said. “There are apparently no large planets. There are only asteroids and planetoids. The star itself is mildly unstable. It’s ejecting gas in regular intervals—serious flares.”

That concerned me. It was a storm of flares that had jumbled our network of ER bridges more than a century back in our star system. If this star was unstable, wouldn’t it possibly disrupt the local bridges in this region of space? The most alarming thing about that possibility was the thought that we might be trapped here, unable to backtrack through the same route to Earth.

I mentioned none of this to the crew. They were smart people, and they could interpret the data as well as I could.

“I assume the artificial planet is built in that location for a reason?” I asked.

“Yes,” Yamada answered. “It’s in the Goldilocks zone, well-placed for liquid water to form on the surface. Even more significantly, it seems like the flares never travel in that direction.”

Nodding thoughtfully, I got out of my seat and began to pace. “Makes sense. They came here and found a dangerous star. With nowhere to land, they built their own home in the one spot that’s calm within this stormy system. The question is: why didn’t they keep traveling? Surely, there must be better systems than this one to colonize.”

“Sir?” Yamada asked me, “I’ve got the standard greeting file queued-up. Should I begin broadcasting to the artificial satellite?”

My lips compressed tightly. This was a big decision. “I’m going to have to ask you to hold that option for now. I think we should know more before—”

“You’ll do no such thing, Sparhawk!” shouted a voice from the rear of the command deck.

Everyone looked. It was Lady Grantholm, and she was almost trembling with rage.

“I thought we had an agreement,” she said loudly. “You fly the ship, and you let me handle the diplomacy. I think no one can argue that thus far, I’ve upheld my end of the bargain.”

“This isn’t about a bargain, Ambassador,” I said. “We’re talking about the safety of this ship and crew. We don’t know anything about these locals. They could be aliens. They could be hostile—”

“They most certainly will be if you don’t broadcast our peaceful intentions!” she said. “Imagine this situation from their point of view. An unknown ship has just appeared in their system. Without a moment’s hesitation, this ship targets their meager satellite and heads directly toward it. Worse, we haven’t said a word in greeting.”

She’d made good points, but my instincts told me to proceed with caution.

“Madam,” I said, “let me investigate further. If we see no sign of hostility—then…”

“Captain, I would like to see you privately,” she demanded.

With a sigh, I followed her into the adjacent ready-room. We sat across from one another.

“Here’s what I’m willing to do,” she said when we were alone. “I’m going to allow you to save face—this time. But don’t test me again.”

Blinking, I offered her a drink. “Allow me? Do I have to remind you who’s in command of this ship, Lady?”

She smiled wickedly. “The ship, yes—but not the mission. Here are my orders…
Our
orders.”

She handed me a computer scroll which I took dubiously. I read for a few moments, and I felt a chill settle in my guts.

“I see,” I said.

“You read it all?”

“Just the pertinent parts.”

“I’m authorized to take direct command of this mission, in every detail, if there is a diplomatic crisis brewing.”

“There’s no diplomatic anything yet,” I said. “We haven’t even determined if there’s anyone alive on that station. They’ve made no transmissions, no attempts to talk to us.”

“As the interloper, that’s our obligation, not theirs,” she said. “As to the definition of a diplomatic crisis, the person who’s tasked with making that determination is me.”

“Yes… as I said, I read it.”

“You accept my authority in this situation?”

“It seems I have no choice. But let me ask you: how did you get such an order authorized and approved without my knowing about it?”

“That was part of the conditions by which I agreed to go on this suicidal mission,” she explained. “You didn’t seriously think I was going to play the elderly aunt in the back room while my nephew ran the show, did you?”

“Now that you mention it, that sort of role did seem out of place for you.”

She nodded. “I see we understand one another at last. Now, let me explain to you how we’re going to proceed. You’ll go back onto the command deck alone and order Yamada to start transmitting the diplomatic greeting. I’ll exit through the other door and move back to my quarters. If the natives in this system respond, I’ll return.”

“How does this sequence of events improve the situation?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Your crew will see you giving orders. I’ll have vanished. Don’t you think that’s better than having me standing there like a harpy, looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re doing it right?”

I had to admit, she had a point there. I accepted her conditions as I had no other easy options.

Returning to the command deck alone, I gave the orders. The transmission began. It left me with a hollow, worried feeling in the pit of my stomach.

If I’d had a leg to stand on, I’d have defied her no matter what the orders from Earth said. As
Defiant
’s Captain, I had the right to safeguard her crew and her hull.

The trouble was, the local population had shown no sign of hostility as of yet. I was therefore honor-bound to follow Grantholm’s orders.

As soon as the situation changed, however, I vowed to realign the rules more to my liking.