12
“It’s admiral now, madam,” said Lubrov by way of correction, defending her commanding officer’s honor and stepping in between them to protect his person.
“Well, I see congratulations are in order then. A promotion is a nice thing, as I understand it, in less developed civil structures,” Mary said, without a hint of emotion. She looked around at the group of people he had brought with him. “I see the woman Yan is not with you. It would be pleasurable to see her again, as it is pleasurable to see you,” she said with a slight smile.
“She is invaluable to me in another assignment. I couldn’t spare her for this expedition,” he replied by way of explanation. Perhaps Yan had been right, and her presence would have been helpful.
“It is unfortunate that we meet under these circumstances, Admiral. A reunion with Yan and yourself would have been very desirable.” Again there was just the hint of a smile, and Clement was unsure whether he should be embarrassed at her suggestion or not.
This was definitely not the simple, carefree young woman he had met on the previous mission to Bellus. Her eyes were clear and focused, her face relatively emotionless. He wasn’t really sure what to say to her, but he had to start somewhere. He motioned Lubrov to the side and stepped up to his visitor.
“Forgive me for asking this, Mary, but how is it you are here, in this vast complex? The person I knew before was a simple and happy young native woman, living in the villages,” Clement said.
Her lips turned up in what was almost a smile. “That is who I was, Admiral, but never who I was supposed to be.”
“I don’t think I understand that.”
She looked pensive now, turning her face away and thinking, seemingly about how to answer.
Clement stepped in. “If there are things you’re not supposed to tell me, I understand that,” he said.
She refocused on him. “It’s not that, Admiral. It’s more about how to put things in context for you. The presence of you and your people was never something the Makers prepared us for.”
“The ‘Makers’?”
She looked around the vast cavern and lifted her arms up. “The ones who made . . . all of this.”
“So, this wasn’t made by your people?”
She laughed. “Heavens, no! We are at our core very simple people; we live the way the Makers intended us to live.”
At this, Lubrov stepped in again, always the defender. “But who are these ‘Makers’? They obviously have a very high level of technology, much higher than ours.”
“I cannot really tell you that because I don’t know. We are merely the”—she seemed to search for the right word again—“the . . . caretakers of this world; we are not the owners. We who are here, inside this complex, are few, less than one thousand by your count. We run this planet according to our given skills and abilities.”
“But . . . how have you transformed from the simple woman I knew before into who you are now?” asked Clement, genuinely curious. To his surprise, Mary reached out and took his hand, then guided it up under her hair, to touch her scalp behind her left ear. He felt a clear bump behind the ear, a couple of centimeters long. She held his hand there for a few moments.
“An implant?” he asked. She nodded as she let go of his hand and it fell down from her scalp.
“Most children here are born naturally, but some of us, perhaps one in a thousand, are born here, in the caverns. Once we are old enough we are released into the general community, where we conduct our lives as the Makers intended. But when the time comes, or when we are needed, the Makers send us a . . . calling, and we come to this place, where we are enlightened, and given our role of service to the planet and to the people.”
Clement then asked the next question. “Did our arrival here, two years ago, result in you being ‘called’ away from your former life?”
Again, the shrug. “I do not know that, Admiral. But it is likely my interaction with you was part of my calling. I’ve been taught your language so that I can communicate better with you, and now I am here, and you have returned. But, there are very important matters to attend to, and I suggest we set about those tasks,” she said, pointing toward the empty consoles.
“Of course,” said Clement, then followed her up the platform steps to the waiting consoles. As they walked the few meters to the console, Clement commented, “It may be easier if you call me Jared, since I call you Mary. Things can get confusing with all the ranks floating around down here.”
“I understand. Jared,” she replied, trying out the name but not breaking her stride. They arrived at the console, and the lifeless purple-black material began to vibrate. It was as if her mere proximity to the console had given it life and power. Pomeroy and Reck gathered near the console as Clement signaled the Marines to guard the perimeter.
Mary passed her hands over the console and multicolored controls began to emerge from the previously blank surface. Colored lights flashed into her eyes, rapidly winking at her, but her eyes did not blink nor waver in any kind of response. She merely seemed to absorb the information being transmitted. Clement wasn’t sure if it was coded or if she was receiving communication through her implant.
“You need to make contact with your men near the surface,” she stated. “You are allowed to do this now.” Clement signaled to Lubrov, who walked away and immediately connected her com with Lieutenants Telco and Tsu. As Lubrov told them to stay ready, Mary continued to commune with the console. This went on for several more minutes, her eyes never blinking. They all watched as the large columns began lighting up, colors furiously whirling through them, conducting unknown tasks.
Finally she pulled back from the console and looked to Clement. “You must go back to your camp, and to your ships. There is a fleet of vessels incoming. You have made a grave mistake in bringing your people here, Jared. These worlds were never intended for you.”
“What fleet?” demanded Lubrov. “Who are they?”
“Who they are does not concern us. They are your problem. If they, or you, put our people in danger, the Makers will protect us.”
Clement looked to Lubrov. “Some sort of planetary defense system, likely run from this complex, or one like it,” he said. Lubrov nodded agreement. He turned back to Mary, who had assumed a rigid posture. “We will defend this world, and all of its people on the surface, if we can. That is our pledge to you. But the Makers cannot attack my ships. They would be destroying their greatest ally.”
“The Makers need no allies to defend us, Jared. They will act when it is necessary.”
“And if we just happen to be in the way?” said Lubrov.
“I do not make those decisions, Colonel.”
Clement held Lubrov back with his arm as she was about to press her point. “Mary, I’m asking you, please call off the Makers. Keep them from attacking my ships. We aren’t here to harm your people.”
Mary stared at him for a second, as if downloading a response. “Your people’s history is riddled with stories of those who came to help others, but ended up exterminating them in the end. The Makers will not allow that.”
Clement decided to try a different tack. “Our people on the surface, they are as vulnerable as your people are. Maybe we made a mistake in coming here, not knowing that we would anger the Makers. But our intent was never to harm you and your people. We are simply trying to save our people from starvation on our own worlds. Can’t you see that?”
“I can understand that, Jared, but the Makers see things differently. They know only of the good of their children, the ‘natives’ as you call them. I cannot call them off, nor control their decisions. The protectors of this planet that you call Bellus will make decisions that are in the best interests of this world, and her children.”
“So, your world is run by an overarching artificial intelligence that you cannot override or argue with, even if you disagree with them. And the Makers who made that AI are long gone from this world, and their children. Is that in your best interest?”
“Again, I cannot make those decisions, Jared. But I warn you that you have only five hours before that fleet arrives over this world. You must go now, if you are going to defend your people.”
“You could bring them all in here, you could protect my people and yours inside this complex.”
“There is room, yes. But your people are not part of the Makers’ plans. I cannot override their decisions,” she said yet again.
Giving up, Clement ordered his team to form up, but he had one last parting shot for the Makers. “Then consider this, Mary. You and I, my people and yours, are made of the same stuff. We are all human, all brothers and sisters, all worthy of protection, by you, or the Makers.” With that he ordered his team to fall out back to the elevator.
Mary called to him just as he stepped off the cavern floor and onto the elevator. “I will . . . consult . . . about your proposal for protection, Jared, only because I trust you. But I can promise you nothing.”
“Thank you, Mary,” said Clement, then he signaled to Reck to activate the elevator, heading for the surface.
The VTOL ride back to Camp Alpha was rough and fast. There was no room for the comfort of his people now. When they landed, Clement was out of the vehicle and making for his shuttle as fast as he could, sending orders to Yan via the com to detect the incoming fleet and deploy her defenses. He also filled her in on the surprise of seeing Mary again, and the implications she had made about the mysterious Makers. He left Lubrov and the Marines behind on the surface to work on the colonists’ ground defenses.
Another twenty minutes and he was aboard Agamemnon and in the CAC, at the command and control console, surveying the looming battlefield. “Situation report, Captain,” he demanded of Yan.
“We’ve detected the attack fleet, Admiral. More than fifty ships of various classes inbound from the orbit of T6. They used the gas planet’s gravity to accelerate inwards toward us, and Bellus.”
“Is there a capital ship?” asked Clement.
“There is a vessel that matches Agamemnon for size and displacement. Our estimates are that it’s the lead battlecruiser of the attack fleet. But they also have twenty heavy cruisers, eighteen destroyers, and most worryingly, fifteen automated hunter-killers.”
Clement studied the potential battlefield. There weren’t many options. He had only eight destroyers and six light cruisers plus Agamemnon and the five small gunships she carried like children in her belly. It was far too weak a force to face what was incoming at them.
“Do we split our forces, sir?” asked Yan.
Clement shook his head. Likely splitting his forces would merely lead to their quicker destruction. “We’d get torn apart. We’ll have to form a defensive wedge behind the Agamemnon. Like it or not, this ship is really the only modern warship we have in the fleet. Everything else we have is either outdated or upgraded to barely functional levels.” He stopped then, and contemplated the board one more time before oming to a decision. “Deploy the fleet per formation Delta Seven-one.” Delta Seven-one would put the Agamemnon at the point of a wedge, supported above and below by three light cruisers each, and further back by the eight destroyers in a spread formation. Beyond that, he only had the five former Rim Confederation gunships. It wasn’t much, but Clement didn’t have many options. At least the formation would put their most modern and powerful ship at the forefront of the battle. Likely the enemy fleet commander would do just the opposite, stay behind her forces and let her heavy cruisers, destroyers and HuKs do most of the damage.
Her.
He realized he was planning his defense as if the other attack force was being led by his former lover and great betrayer, former Fleet Admiral Elara DeVore. He wasn’t sure if that bias was good or bad under the circumstances. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind for the present. “Lieutenant Adebayor, do your scope scans give us any indication of where these ships are based at? A fleet this big must have some sort of supply vessel or support ships elsewhere in the system.”
“Negative on that, Admiral,” replied Adebayor. “But our scope of the system is not complete yet.”
“Then I suggest you rush your scans, Lieutenant. You have forty minutes,” he said, then turned his attention back to his tactical board.
“Aye, sir,” said Adebayor, urgently motioning over an assistant scopeman to help her at her station.
Clement turned his attention back to Yan. “Our biggest problem is going to be those hunter-killers. We know they’re just suicide machines and they’ll be willing to expend all of them in this battle. Planning this engagement would be easier if I knew who was in command of the attack fleet.”
“Since she’s missing, can we assume that it’s Elara DeVore?”
Clement flexed his neck, as if trying to eradicate a kink. “I’ve already taken that into consideration. But, until I see more in the way of tactics, I can’t be sure and I don’t want to make any assumptions that might be fatal to our defense.”
“Sir, all ships are signaling that they are in formation Delta Seven-one and ready to move out on your order,” called Mika Ori from her station.
“We’ll hold here for now, Pilot. All ships must stand ready.”
“Aye, sir.”
Clement returned to his console. “They’re coming in way too fast for conventional propulsion. I think we have to assume that they have inertial dampening technology, and that means only a few of our ships can match them for maneuverability.”
“We have four hours and seven minutes until we make contact with that fleet. Even with inertial dampening technology they’re going to have to start slowing at some point,” replied Yan.
“Agreed. But we don’t know how good their ID technology is. If we’re measuring it by our level of tech, then they’ll have to start decelerating thirty minutes from the battlefield. If it’s better than ours, then they might be able to drop in right on top of us, in which case we’ll all be dead.”
“It’s safe then to assume that inside of thirty minutes we have to admit their technology is better than ours. And we still don’t have a plan to deal with those HuKs.”
“Leave the HuKs to me, Captain. I want you to focus on strategies for the main ships in the fleet. If we get caught in an attrition battle they will cut us to pieces simply with their superior numbers. But . . . if we can use tactics to tilt the battlefield in our direction, then we at least have a sharpshooter’s chance at a Hail Mary.”
“First rule in battle school: if the battlefield isn’t to your advantage, then move the battlefield,” said Yan. She pointed to the L2 Lagrange point between Bellus and the third world in the Trinity system, Camus. “If we were to wait until they were decelerating toward us, we could move the fleet to this position, and force them to turn and pursue us, burning fuel and slowing them even more.”
Clement leaned forward on the console table. “And if we left a surprise behind for them here, something that could deliver a gut punch, maybe we’d make them think twice about pursuing us.”
“That would buy the fleet time, but what about the colonists?”
“We’d be abandoning them in favor of a better strategic position for our ships, but then we’d have to be the attackers, we’d have to take away the high ground we freely ceded back from them. Right now, though, moving the fleet is just about the only advantage that we have.”
“If we go, who will defend Bellus? We’ll be leaving thirty thousand colonists and all the natives at their mercy, and we’ve already seen what they think about the native population.”
“From what Mary told me, the Makers have left planetary defenses that can deal with any attackers. If that’s true, we may find that we have them in a pinch instead of us being in theirs.”
Yan shifted her feet. “A question, though. If these planetary defenses Mary talked about really exist, then why didn’t they use them the last time we were in this system?”
Clement thought hard about that. “I don’t know, and I don’t have time to chat with Mary about that right now. We have to assume they will not intervene, based on our previous mission here. We need to rely on what we have, and we need to find something that can help us, and quick.”
“You said we needed a gut punch. Would the MAD weapon constitute a ‘gut punch’?” asked Yan quietly.
“It could,” replied the admiral. “But that might be our only chance to use it. I would imagine they would be coming onto the battlefield with their weapons hot. Even if we could get off a decisive shot with the MAD weapon, say at their main battlecruiser, it would be fifty-fifty whether we survived the encounter long enough to fire it a second time, and I doubt we’d be able to take out their entire fleet with that one shot. No, I think our best chance is to change the battlefield and hope they pursue us. If they get spread out, we might have a better chance.”
“Well, just maybe, these ‘Makers’ of Mary’s will grant us a reprieve.”
“Based on what your friend Mary said, I think that’s highly unlikely.” Yan winced at Clement’s comment. She and Mary had had a more than just cordial relationship on their first, brief visit to Bellus. Clement was either too deeply involved in his battle planning or he was simply too callous about her feelings to notice her response. The relationship was embarrassing to her now. She had let her guard down that day, and that may have vast consequences for them now, and in the future.
Clement continued without further comment on Mary. “I think it will have to be scatter mines,” he said. “I just don’t see any other alternative.”
“I agree with you,” said Yan, regaining her composure. “Scatter mines will take out a few of their ships, or at least damage some of them enough to slow them down.”
“Again, it’s those trailing HuKs that have me the most worried. They will cut our destroyers to ribbons if we don’t take them out in the first wave of the attack. Then their heavy cruisers will be able to mop up our light cruisers with ease.”
“For all we know their destroyers may be as powerful as our light cruisers. If we lose all of our support ships then Agamemnon would surely be done for.”
Clement swiped at his panels, looking for something. When he found it, he popped it up so Yan could see it. “Look at their energy curve. It’s twice what ours is. Even if we took out all of their HuKs we’d still be overmatched by two thirds. I don’t think we have any alternative, Yan; we have to try our Hail Mary. If we leave the Beauregard there, behind the wall of mines, it likely won’t survive the initial attack wave, MAD weapon or not. Our gut punch will have to be the MAD weapon, and we’ll have to pray that it’s enough.”
“And I suppose you think you’re going to be in command of the Beauregard? The one staying behind to fight to the death? Last man going down with this ship, all those clichés. You may be a great ship captain, Jared, but you’re a lousy Fleet Admiral. We need you here leading this fleet.”
“I’m afraid that’s a luxury we can’t afford, Yan. I’m sending you and the rest of the fleet to the L2 Lagrange point as soon as we know they’re decelerating. The Beauregard is the most powerful ship in this fleet, in either fleet, we both know that. And we both know who her best commander is. It’s up to me to lay the trap, just like the Five Suns Navy did for me at the Battle of Argyle Station.”
“But we’re not fighting the Five Suns Navy this time, Admiral,” argued Yan.
“Aren’t we?” snapped Clement. “If I was commanding their attack fleet I’d set it up exactly the way they are. I’d play on my strengths and keep those HuKs in reserve for the kill shot. I’d base everything on the idea that we would stay in our position and defend Bellus. No, I think we are facing an enemy navy that’s commanded by someone trained in the same tactics as I did. I believe this fleet is commanded by none other than Elara DeVore.”
“So you’ve decided you’re going to fight this battle personally, to get your revenge on someone who hurt you very deeply,” said Yan.
Clement brushed her off. “I’m just trying to give us the best chance to win, Yan. My orders stand. Beauregard will stay behind the scatter-mine field. After the initial confusion wears off, I’ll be able to get off a kill shot on their HuKs.”
“And then?” asked Yan. “How will you escape the rest of the fleet?”
Clement look back down at his console. “We’ll have to try a short-range LEAP jump to the L2 Lagrange point. We’ve done it before.”
“And you almost broke the LEAP reactor and stranded us in this system.”
“Yes, almost, but we didn’t. We succeeded. I’m going to hope our luck runs out sometime after this next battle.”
“So say you pull this off, then what? We’ll still be outgunned by two thirds against their remaining forces. By my count it will be thirty-nine of their ships against fifteen of ours. And my guess is except for Agamemnon, every one of our ships is inferior to the same class of theirs.”
“Once we regroup at the L2 Lagrange point, we’ll have to determine a new strategy. There’s no other way.”
“And what about the colonists on the surface? Not to mention the natives?”
“We’ll just have to hope that Mary and her friends truly have the favor of the Makers, and that the planetary defense systems will keep this attacking fleet at bay.”
“And if she doesn’t? If the Makers choose not to act, like the last time we were here?”
“Then we have no hope,” said Clement.
At that moment Kayla Adebayor called for Clement’s attention. “Admiral, I think we’ve located this fleet’s base of operations. There appears to be an Ark ship orbiting the T6 gas planet, sir.”
“Do we have any telemetry on the Ark ship, Lieutenant?”
“Very similar in size and displacement to the Earth Ark ship we destroyed on our last mission here two years ago, sir.”
Clement looked down to his board, which was growing darker and more desperate every second.
“So,” he said, “now we have another problem.” Then he wiped clean the displays on his console in frustration.