The Battlestar Glory Ch. 06

(This is not a sexy story. It is a space war thriller.)

(This is not a sexy story. It is a space war thriller.)

Chapter 6: Loss of Vision

Chapter 6: Loss of Vision

From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 2.5 years after Vitalics:

We have continued our search for Monumental civilizations but haven't come up with anything promising. We've found several more monuments, but nothing substantial, like a Monumental city or derelict warship. I have to be realistic about things--it may take years, even decades for us to find anything useful.

The only piece of good news is that we've finally eluded the Insects. We haven't seen even a sign of them in over a year, and I now think we're too far out to be caught by their pursuing fleets, if there are any. Conversely, of course, the farther out we go, the longer it will take us to get back; if we find useful technology 5 or 10 years down the line, it will take us an additional five or ten years to return. I'm not sure many of the crew here have thought that far ahead.

Morale is low, mostly from lack of action and boredom, so I've staged a series of war games to keep the fleet occupied. The only ones excused are Captain Took, Lieutenant Obe, and the Blue Luna, who are reconnoitering a binary system not far from our present trajectory. We expect to link up with them in a few hours.

***********

***********

The human deep space cruiser loomed large on the screen of the Insect flat top. Admiral Torss stared at the image of the cruiser as he waited for the visiting shuttle to dock with his carrier.

This is not what she had in mind when she had called for reinforcements. Her fleet--two flat tops, two battlecruisers, and eight destroyers, was small by any standard, and certainly not capable of taking on the human fleet. When Torss had been sent out to locate the human fleet, she had been promised reinforcements before being called to go into battle. Well, she had located the humans, had even located them without being detected (so she thought), and this solitary ship was all the reinforcements she had received!

One, solitary ship. A human ship, one of their deep space cruisers.

The Captain of the ship, designated SStosss, came onto the bridge.

"Report," said Admiral Torss. "Where is the rest of our reinforcements?"

Sstosss pointed to the human ship on the screen.

"I don't find that amusing," said Torss. "We do not have a force strong enough to defeat the humans, even with you and your crew."

"You do now," said Sstosss. "And I don't even have a crew."

"No crew..." Suddenly, it all made sense. "A trap?"

Sstosss nodded. "The ship is loaded with special explosives."

"Won't the humans detect it?"

"No," said Sstosss. "All has been taken care of."

"Are the explosives enough to destroy their entire fleet?" Torss asked skeptically.

"If detonated at close range, this ship can destroy theGloryand any nearby vessels."

"Our sensors show the humans have approximately 50 or 60 combat vessels. Will that be enough to ensure our victory against them?"

"Yes," said Sstosss. "Remember I said these were a special kind of explosives. Exploding them creates a special byproduct, a brilliant white light which will blind them all."

"Blinding them," said Torss, suddenly understanding the significance. "Then it won't matter how many ships they have! They won't be able to see or function!"

"Exactly," said Sstosss. "It is all part of Admiral Stay's plan. Once theGloryand its immediate escorts are destroyed, and the rest of the enemy is blinded, you can go in and finish them off."

"Launch the ship at once!"

********

"It's a conspiracy, Obe," said Took, sitting in the mess hall of theBlue Luna.

"You always say that," said Obe.

"Because it always is!" said Took.

"Lower your voice," Obe whispered, looking away from the other diners.

"It always is," said Took. "Think about it. We're having global war games, and the War Admiral has everyone participate, except his two best pilots. Why?"

"You tell me," said Obe.

"He's grooming someone to replace us," said Took.

"To replace both of us?"

"Ok, just me," said Took.

"That's what you thought when the Ken Pilot came aboard."

"Ok, so I admit I was wrong about K."

"I'm glad to hear you admit you were wrong about something."

It had been like this for the past two days. They had been sent out to reconnoiter some planetary bodies around a binary star at the edge of sensor range. What they found when they got close was nothing--not even a habitable atmosphere. And now they were returning to the fleet, empty handed.

"What a waste of time," said Took.

"What's really bothering you?" Obe asked.

"Oh, I wanted to participate in the war games," said Took.

"They'll be other war games," said Obe. "Besides, they're probably all over by now; everyone's back on board, just trying to get through another boring day."

*******

On theGlory, Lieutenant Shishman said, "Sir, I'm picking up a blip on sensors."

"Identity?" Captain Dulin asked. "Is it theBlue Luna?" If so, they were returning a few hours ahead of schedule.

"No..." said Shishman. "It's coming from a different direction." He tapped a few keys, and an IDENT code appeared on the holographic display by the blip. "A deep space cruiser."

"We don't have any deep space cruisers out on patrol," said Dulin.

Shishman tapped a few keys. "Sir, it isn't one of ours!"

Dulin pressed a button. "War Admiral, to the bridge!"

The War Admiral came out of his office a moment later. "Yes, Captain?"

"Sir, we're being approached by a DSC; but it's not one from our fleet."

The War Admiral raised an eyebrow, turning to the holographic display, and studied the readings. "Has anyone tried hailing it?"

"Sir, they are hailing us now," said Lieutenant Shishman.

"On open comm," said North, sitting back in his chair. This would be interesting.

A holographic image of a captain sitting on a cruiser's bridge appeared before them. "My name is Captain Thomas Smith of the Deep Space Cruiser Sharon. I would like to speak to your commander."

North stood up again, trying to restrain the feeling of excitement. "This is War Admiral Norman North of the combined fleet-"

"North? War Admiral North? Is that really you? You survived, sir?" said Smith.

"Yes, as well as a few others," said North.

Smith looked almost speechless. "Sir, I'm honored. You've been a living legend all my life!"

North held up a restraining hand. "That's quite all right, Captain Smith. Tell me, how do you find yourself this far out here? Were you at Vitalics?"

"Yes, we were at Vitalics," said Smith, looking subdued.

"What happened there?"

"We were attacked by some kind of special weapon."

"What kind of weapon?"

"We don't know, we were on the very edges of it," said Smith. "We were lucky to escape."

"Did you see any other ship escape?"

"No," said Smith. "We fled deeper into Alliance space as the Insects advanced, broadcasting warnings where we could. When we reached Orotis, we heard that the remnants of our fleet had just been there, and started after you."

"And so you've been following after us, these past two and a half years," said North.

"Yes," said Smith.

"Space is vast. It's very lucky that you've found us," said North, not letting his tone or expression change.

"Well, yes, we've been searching a long time."

"How is your crew?" North asked.

"They're fine, Admiral," said Smith.

North could see some of Smith's crew in their chairs in the background shot of Smith's bridge, attending to their consoles.

"What do you suggest?" said the War Admiral.

"A meeting," said Smith. "We can trade information we've gathered. We've also got a lot of supplies you might be able to use--we've stocked up on a lot of extra food we can't eat ourselves."

"We have a perennial shortage of food, that would be most welcome," said the War Admiral.

"I think the best way to distribute it is by docking and making the transfer directly," said Smith. "It would take too many transport flights to ship it over to you."

"Just one moment, Captain," said North. He gave a tight smile. "We'll have to clear this with our logistics department. Can I put you on hold for a few minutes?"

"Certainly," said Smith. "It will take us almost an hour to get in range anyway."

"Fine," said North. "We'll talk with you soon." He gestured to Shishman, and the image faded.

North turned to the other officers. "Opinions?"

"He looks just like what he seems to be," said Dulin slowly.

"I think it's nothing short of fantastic that he managed to locate us," said Commander Wren. She added, "He does look and sound human."

"Yes, he does," said the War Admiral. He closed his eyes, seeming to think for a moment. Then, opening them, he said to Lieutenant Shishman, "Get me Captain Tens Zender of the Fast Attack Destroyer Suny Blue."

North turned to Wren. "Check to see whether the Sharon was attached to the Vitalics battlegroup."

"I just did," said Wren. "It was. The ship's transponder code also matches the Sharon's."

The hologram of a destroyer captain appeared on the bridge. "War Admiral?"

"I thought your ship was the only one to survive the disaster at Vitalics," said the War Admiral. "It seems I was wrong. Was your ship positioned anywhere near the Deep Space Cruiser Sharon?"

Zender frowned, thinking. "No, I don't think so."

"Do you have any telemetry footage of the Sharon, as you departed the battle, either showing it intact, damaged, or destroyed?"

"I'd have to check," said Zender, nodding to one of his officers.

"Check quickly," said North. He checked the sensor scan of the Sharon. It showed a standard Deep Space Cruiser. Maybe he was being too suspicious. He had also been suspicious when Zender's ship had shown up, and Zender had really been what he appeared to be.

But Zender had shown upbeforethey had left Alliance space, not lost among thousands of cubed lightyears of uncharted space. This encounter was much less likely. But not impossible.

"No sir, we have no footage of the Sharon," Zender reported.

"Thank you, Captain," said North. Then, almost as an afterthought. "Captain?"

"Sir?"

"One more thing. Tell me again about this special weapon that attacked you at Vitalics."

"It wasn't so much a weapon as a dampening field, some sort of mist that drained the energy in our ship's systems."

"You had no problems detecting this mist?"

"Detecting, no, we could see it visually," said Zender, looking puzzled.

"I see," said North. "Thank you, Captain." He nodded, and Shishman terminated the signal.

"Admiral?" said Dulin.

"Why couldn't Smith better describe what kind of weapon they used at Vitalics?" North asked.

"Maybe he couldn't see from where his ship was located," said Dulin. "It could be anything. That's not reason enough to doubt his story."

"You think Smith is being coerced, or operating under some kind of mind control?" Commander Wren asked.

"Coerced?" North shook his head. "Possibly, but not very likely. I don't want to believe that any fleet captain could be coerced by the enemy to betray his own. Mind control? Also possible, but does that mean he's been under mind control for several years, while they hunted for us? No, if they were going to do something like that, they wouldn't rely on him being under their control for so long. There would have to be other Insects aboard, to monitor his behavior, and I don't think that's the case here."

"Then... perhaps he is exactly what he seems to be," said Wren.

"Perhaps," said North, suddenly thinking of another possibility, one that made a lot more sense. He nodded to Shishman. "Get him back." He turned to the bridge crew. "Whatever I say, or do, don't react.. It's very important you act as if everything is normal."

In a moment Captain's Smith hologram filled the bridge.

"Have you sorted things out with your logistics department, War Admiral?" Smith asked pleasantly.

"Yes, we're looking forward to meeting you in person," said the War Admiral.

"We're scheduled to dock in 45 minutes," said Smith, checking a readout.

"Yes," said the War Admiral. "By the way, what kind of missiles are you carrying?"

"Standard 44-J warheads," said Smith.

"What colors are roses?"

"Red," said Smith.

"If you stand outside in a rain, what happens?"

"You get wet," said Smith, smiling.

"What do you do when your boots start losing their color?"

"They need to be polished," Smith said.

"When you walk one mile north of your home, what's the most direct route back?"

"One mile south," said Smith, smiling gently.

The entire bridge crew of theGloryworked hard at maintaining a normal expression.

"You must miss your family," said North.

"Yes, it's very sad to think I won't see them again," said Smith, looking unhappy.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Red!" said Smith, smiling again.

"Thank you, Captain.'

'Thank you, War Admiral," he said, smiling again.

North pressed a button, and the image faded. "The better they make them, the stupider they get."

"Sir?" said Dulin, uncertain as to what had just transpired.

"A computer, Captain," said North. "Programmed to answer my questions, to look happy when certain subjects are discussed, sad at others, and generally content about minor matters. Commander! Turn the fleet around, top speed!"

"Sir?"

"I'll bet you your commission that our friendly deep space cruiser is packed from stem to stern with high energy explosives. Do it!"

Shortly after the fleet turned around, their sensors readings of the deep space cruiser changed.

"Now I'm reading a non-standard configuration," said Shishman. "Heavily shielded. And it's catching up to us."

"How much time do we gain by flying away from it?" North asked tightly.

"It will reach the slowest merchant ships-"

"It's after bigger game," North said, interrupting. "How long before it reaches us?"

"One hundred and fifteen minutes."

"I've done a scan of its shielding; it seems to have a very strong configuration; the entire ship seems to be covered in force screens and armor," said Dulin, pointing to a schematic.

"And explosives," said North.

"We could send our battlecruiser squadron out to engage it," said Dulin.

"And what would happen to our squadron when it detonated?" North asked, studying the schematic intently.

"It depends on how much explosives were onboard, and at what distance they were," said Dulin.

"Got it," said North, referring to something else entirely, as he studied a close scan on the corner of the schematic. "Get me your best demolitions expert." He paused, considering. "And get me the Ken Pilot."

*******

"Is this really going to work?" said Zetho Arkasian, as he let himself be strapped to the underside of the Ken Pilot's scarred Wildcat 5 hull.

The Ken Pilot gave no answer, but continued to tie the straps around Zetho's spacesuit.

"Zetho, who talked you into this crazy mission, flying on the outside of this fighter?" This was from his burly brother Yurgi, theGlory's chief engineer. Not many knew the two were even related, though there was some resemblance.

"The War Admiral," said Zetho.

"Hold this," said the Ken Pilot, giving Zetho an equipment satchel, as he secured a harness around Zetho and attached it to a ring on the tip of his ship. "You have all your other equipment?"

"Yes," said Zetho. "Right below the thruster pack. But I've never flown on the outside of a ship before! Any advice?"

The Ken Pilot considered for a moment. "Hang on."

"You take care of yourself, Zetho!" said Yurgi. He watched as the Ken Pilot jumped from a wing into the cockpit in one easy motion. He immediately prepped his fighter for takeoff.

*******

"This had better work," said Dulin, watching the fighter launch from the landing bay.

"We're sending the best," said the War Admiral.

"Don't let Captain Took hear you say that," said Dulin dryly.

"Time to impact?" the War Admiral asked.

"If the cruiser is seeking a near point-blank range detonation, seventy three minutes" said Dulin.

"Disperse the fleet," said the War Admiral. "There's no sense in letting any other ship get harmed."

"Admiral, are you sure you don't want a screen of battlecruisers as a last minute defense?" Dulin asked.

The War Admiral shook his head.

Half Commander Stacy Wren bit her lower lip.

*******

The Ken Pilot maneuvered his Wildcat 5 to the cruiser quickly; the DSC had no external weapons, so there was no worry about coming under attack. Zetho felt the great sensation of acceleration, but kept his eyes tightly shut.

The Ken Pilot shot past the cruiser, then turned around, giving chase, matching velocities and quickly closing in. When he was a few hundred feet behind the aft section, he matched velocities perfectly, and started studying his scanner very, very closely.

"What's happening?" said Zetho, over his suit radio.

The Ken Pilot gave no answer. He studied the sensor readings very closely as he minutely turned the ship slightly to the left or slightly to the right, his hand poised over a button and his eyes also glancing at a targeting site.

And then, in a split second, his hand jerked and pressed the fire button, and a grappler shot out from the Wildcat-5, heading straight for the cruiser. It narrowly shot through the nineteen inch gap between the ship's lateral and port shields, and stuck firmly to the ship's hull.

"Ready," said the Ken Pilot. And then, uncharacteristically, he added, "Good luck."

Zetho opened his eyes and unstrapped himself, and pulled on the line connecting him to the tether. He activated his suitpack and started accelerating slowly towards the cruiser.

"I'd pick up the pace if I were you," said the Ken Pilot, monitoring his progress. "You have at most 37 minutes."

"If I go too fast I could hit the shielding," Zetho snapped. But he went a bit faster, all the same.

The Ken Pilot said nothing.

Zetho slowed down rapidly as he approached the ship. The glare from the cruiser's engines made it difficult to see clearly. He set the polarizer on his suit to half maximum. He still had to see enough to see... there! Flickering on the edges.

Breathing heavily, Zetho twisted around so he was on the side of the rope farthest from the nearest force screen. One instant of contact would be enough to breach his suit....

He slowly pulled his way through, and didn't breath easily until he was at the hull. Lying down against it, he started to crawl under the force screens around the ship towards the portside airlock. Slowly he made his way there.

"I'm at the airlock," he reported, eyeing it warily. "I'm going to check for traps-"

"No time," came an unexpected voice over the command circuit. It was the War Admiral. "It's not likely they anticipated boarding."

"Not likely," Zetho muttered. Taking a deep breath, he entered the airlock and triggered the cycling mechanism. The ship didn't detonate, much to his relief.

There was a thin atmosphere inside the ship, though Zetho didn't bother to check the readings or see what kind. Still in his spacesuit, he was racing, on the run, to the bridge. Someone had left the lights on in the ship; either they had forgotten to turn them off, or someone was actually on board! Zetho had a blaster with him, but he hadn't fired a weapon, even on the practice range, for some time.

The bridge was at the other end of the ship, and Zetho wasted precious time hobbling there in his bulky suit. But that was the logical location to go to, the nerve center of any ship. He scrambled as fast as he could.

"Arkasian, you have thirty minutes," said the War Admiral's calm voice. "What is your situation?"