In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) Read online

  Izin ran a flood of calculations through his mind in the blink of his amphibian eyes. “It’s not a collision, Captain, it’s a slingshot. The micro-singularity’s gravity is radiating from the wormhole mouth like a giant planet, close enough to perturb Earth’s orbit.”

  Oh crap! “By how much?”

  Izin’s attention returned to his console as he directed the Lining’s processing core to crunch the mechanics. “Earth’s new orbit will be highly elliptical. Aphelion will be over three hundred million kilometers from the Sun, well beyond the orbit of Mars.”

  “Earth will freeze!” Jase exploded.

  “That’s the idea,” I said ominously, for the first time seeing what was really happening. The Matarons weren’t backing the Separatists, they were manipulating them, not to break away from Earth, but to destroy it!

  They’d tricked everyone: the Consortium, the Brotherhood, the Core Worlds, even me. It would look like we stole technology we didn’t understand and used it to accidentally destroy our own homeworld! No one would be able to blame the Matarons because everyone would believe we’d done it to ourselves. The Galactic Forum would have no choice but to rule against us, to isolate the survivors for their own protection, saving us from ourselves. It was clear cut. The Fourth Principle of the Access Treaty gave each species a right to develop in its own way except – second exception – when facing self inflicted extinction!

  Forum intervention was not only permitted, it was required!

  With the exit mouth blocked, we couldn’t get through the wormhole, but that no longer mattered because there was nothing we could do on the other side. The real threat was this side, where the micro-singularity was being generated. Without waiting for the autonav to plot a new course, I immediately rolled the Silver Lining one eighty degrees, angling past the tower toward the Mavia as we began decelerating.

  Jase gave me a surprised look. “We’re not halfway yet.”

  “We have to brake now so our acceleration fields have something left to offset the singularity’s gravity when we get there.”

  Jase’s eyes widened, then he nodded. “Glad you thought of that!” he said with relief, realizing the alternative was to be crushed as we neared the wormhole.

  “Scan the tower. Find out what it’s made of.”

  Jase studied his console briefly. “Nothing our sensors can identify.”

  Considering the energies the tower was channeling, it was almost certainly impervious to our proton burster, which left only the Mavia herself. Like all navy ships, she was ruggedly built with reinforced double hulls and honeycomb bulkheads, as well as a heavy shield – and us with no drones.

  “Two Super Saracens just powered up!” Jase said. “They’re breaking formation, coming after us, pulling high-g’s!”

  “Izin, what do you know about wormholes?” I asked.

  “Very little, Captain. If you’d wanted me to become an expert in wormhole dynamics, you should have told me – yesterday.”

  “I know one thing,” I said. “They can’t survive without exotic matter. So if we turn off the tap …”

  “It’ll collapse,” Jase said. “Great idea, except that ship is crawling with guys from my home planet, guys with big guns and itchy fingers. They’re not going to let you walk in there and flick a switch.”

  “I wasn’t planning on walking. I prefer to ride.” I turned to Izin. “Did you fix those battle suits you borrowed from General Trask?”

  “I’ve restored pressurization and recharged their power cells, Captain, but I couldn’t replenish their magazines.”

  “They have enough ammo for what I have in mind.”

  “They won’t let us dock,” Jase said. “You’ll have to jump.”

  “We’ve had practice at that, haven’t we Izin!” I said with a grin, glancing back at my tamph engineer. “We’ll park alongside, then kick in the door.”

  Izin slipped off his acceleration couch. “I’ll be in the cargo hold preparing the battle suits,” he said as he hurried off the flight deck.

  “He’s excited,” I said. “I don’t let him off the leash very often.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s the way his eyes scrunch up at the sides.”

  Jase gave me a doubtful look. “His eyes don’t do that!”

  I shrugged. “There must be some way to know what he’s thinking.”

  Jase sobered. “Someone’s signaling us.”

  “From where?” According to our sensors, there were no ships close by.

  “Seventy meters to starboard,” Jase said surprised, then opened a channel.

  The astrographic projection on the main screen was replaced by Gern Vrate’s face. “My people are on that ship, Kade.”

  “I figured they were.”

  The only way the Mavia could be powering the Hrane tunneler was with the siphons and they needed to be close to their Kesarn symbiotes to function.

  “I’m going aboard to get them,” Vrate said simply.

  “That wormhole’s threatening my homeworld.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to do whatever it takes to shut it down.”

  “I would do the same.”

  “Just so we understand each other.”

  “I will protect my people,” Vrate said, then his face vanished from the screen.

  “Who’s side is that guy on?” Jase demanded.

  “His own.” It was one thing we had in common.

  Jase’s attention was drawn back to his sensors. “Four more ships just arrived.”

  “How close?”

  “They’re a long way out, over a billion clicks. The transponders are faint, coming in now.” When the call signs appeared on his personal screen, his eyes widened in surprise. “They’re navy ships! The frigates Nassau and Delhi, the heavy destroyer Kirishima, and … a battle cruiser! The Vigilant. What’s she doing out here? What are any of them doing here?”

  So, Gern Vrate wasn’t quite the hardass he made out. I’d told Jase and Izin everything about my meeting with the Kesarn tracer, except my request that he give Lena Voss my destination. And from the looks of the navy squadron, Lena had told me only what I needed to know – keeping the fact she was joyriding in an Earth Navy battle cruiser a secret. Even so, her squadron was heavily outgunned by the Separatist fleet.

  “Trust the navy to turn up when you need them most!” I said, converting their distance to light minutes.

  The navy ships had taken up position between both Duranis stars, giving them room to study the two systems before committing to either one. My spirits sank when I realized they’d only just be receiving the Silver Lining’s transponder signal from when we were alongside the Aphrodite, making Lena believe we were still in the red giant system. She wouldn’t see us in our present position for at least another hour – the time it took our current emissions to reach her location!

  By then, it would be all over.

  The flight deck screen was split into fore and aft perspectives, with the wormhole mouth on one side and the two Super Saracens racing to catch us on the other. The rest of the Separatist Fleet had rolled as one and were now decelerating, showing they were as cautious about flying through the wormhole as I was. Beyond the wormhole was the Mavia, its image greatly magnified by strong gravitational lensing from the singularity. Inside the Silver Lining, our internal acceleration fields were performing a delicate juggling act, counteracting the heavy gravity spilling from the wormhole while offsetting what little was left of our own deceleration.

  “They’re entering weapons range,” Jase warned, “closing real fast!”

  “Shield up,” I said, bringing our battle shield online as the two converted merchant cruisers entered extreme range. Unlike us and the rest of the Separatist Fleet, they hadn’t rolled to decelerate, but were bearing down toward us with engines straining at full power, following a course aiming to pass the wormhole rather than enter it. They were using their acceleration toward the wormhole to offset the pull of t
he micro-singularity’s gravity, reducing the strain on their inertial fields and allowing them to accelerate at a rate far beyond what they would normally have been capable of. It was a clever move that would send them hurtling past us so fast they’d only have a moment to fire, followed by a long braking run once they were past the Mavia, but it would give them time enough to wreck the Silver Lining.

  “Why aren’t they shooting?” Jase asked. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “They’re going to hit us as they fly by so there’s no risk of damaging the Mavia,” I said. No matter how good our shield was, it couldn’t stand up to the combined firepower of two cruisers at point blank range.

  “Charge up the burster,” I said, certain our single cannon’s expensive capacitor insulation would prevent the Super Saracens from seeing us prepare to fire. Unfortunately, its short range would force us to wait until we were on top of the tower – the same time they were on top us. Our only hope was to maneuver, but fighting the pull of the wormhole, it would take everything we had just to keep the ship under control.

  Or did control matter? I wondered, then ran a quick theoretical for an idea I had through the autonav.

  “I know that look,” Jase said warily. “What are you thinking?”

  “Trust me,” I said, ordering the autonav to plot the specifics.

  “Now I’m really worried!”

  We were heading for open space starboard of the Mavia, while the two Super Saracens were on a parallel course that would ensure they gave the tower’s arms and the depot ship’s big shield a wide berth. Hoping to put as much room between us and the cruisers as possible, I angled the Silver Lining in close to the tower’s nearest arm, putting us on a collision course with the Mavia’s upper works.

  “Skipper,” Jase said anxiously, “that’s too close.”

  “No, it’s just right,” I replied as we plunged stern-first toward the tower arm and the separatist cruisers grew rapidly in size, their main weapons glowing hot.

  “Plot a firing solution on the closest tower arm,” I said, letting Jase handle weapons while I focused on flying. “Don’t let the mount rotate until the last second.” I didn’t want to spook the Super Saracens and have them start shooting early.

  “Ready,” Jase said after he plugged in the targeting instructions.

  The dark curve of the wormhole mouth now filled one side of the screen, fed by a stream of lightning pouring from the arm almost dead ahead.

  “Skipper! More thrust!” Jase said as a collision warning sounded.

  “Less is more,” I said throttling down our main engines.

  Jase eyes bulged when he saw what I was doing. “Skipper! We’re too close! We’re going to hit!”

  We swept toward the tower arm, pulled in by the micro-singularity’s gravity, then I said, “Rotate and fire.”

  Jase released the burster. Its turret mount swiveled and unleashed a high intensity proton blast that would have punched a hole through most ship hulls. A ball of white energy momentarily enveloped the tower’s arm then quickly faded harmlessly away.

  “No damage!” Jase said.

  When the tower arm filled our screen, I let the autonav take control. It immediately yawed the Lining’s bow away from the wormhole, aiming our engine thrust at the singularity, fighting it’s gravity. We balanced on a tightrope, skating alongside the arm, following its curve down, pulled sideways by the wormhole’s gravity as the Super Saracens swept up to us.

  “They’re firing!” Jase warned.

  Rapid energy blasts flashed at us from the separatist cruisers, curving off course at the last moment toward the wormhole, grazing our shield and either striking the tower or flying on through to vanish into the dark sphere cradled in the tower’s arms. Before the Super Saracens could adjust for their mistake, they hurtled past the Mavia while we thrown sideways above her upper works. When we passed out over the depot ship’s port side, the two Super Saracens were already out of range, rolling to decelerate, but it was all too late. I resumed piloting control from the autonav and fired the maneuvering engines, killing our velocity and sending us back toward the Mavia while Jase stared at the screen with an open mouth.

  “A gravity assist?”

  It was the oldest trick in the celestial mechanics handbook, I’d used the micro-singularity’s gravity to perform a ninety degree course change, pulling us away from the Super Saracens just as they fired. The same effect that threatened to destroy Earth had saved us. “More than that,” I said. “The curved space around the wormhole deflected their shots, like rolling cannon balls down a hill.”

  Jase looked at me incredulously. “The singularity screwed up their targeting!”

  “Our burster only hit the arm because we were so close,” I added.

  The screen hissed with static briefly as we pushed through the Mavia’s shield, then we leveled off and began gliding towards the Hrane tower emerging from the center of the depot ship.

  “You could have warned me,” Jase said.

  “And missed that look of sheer terror on your face. Not a chance,” I said, gratified by his scowl.

  We skimmed the Mavia’s upper works for a few more seconds, then nosed over her side and angled for the airlock nearest the Hrane tower. The closer we got to her hull, the more the old depot ship’s oversized acceleration field enveloped us, nullifying the singularity’s gravity, making flying easier.

  When we stood barely fifty meters from the Mavia’s port side, I said, “Blast that lock open.”

  There were ten airlocks on each side, each above a rectangular cargo door once used to resupply and repair docked navy ships. Depending on the pressure discipline inside the Mavia, ripping open an airlock might have no effect or it might cause ship wide explosive decompression. Before our burster had fully charged, all ten port side airlocks opened together.

  “Are they surrendering?” Jase asked, surprised.

  “Unlikely.”

  An incoming signal, audio only, forced its way onto the flight deck. “Hold your fire, Kade,” Gern Vrate ordered, “or you’ll kill my people.”

  I couldn’t tell where the signal was coming from, but he had to be watching us from somewhere close, close enough to override the Mavia’s docking system.

  “Power down the burster,” I said, “and rotate it away from the Mavia.”

  Jase did as I asked, then Vrate’s voice sounded again.

  “Wise decision,” he said in a way that left me in no doubt, his finger was on the trigger and we were in his sights.

  “Now what?” Jase asked.

  I slipped off my acceleration couch. “You take her. When we’re suited up, open the belly door.”

  Jase nodded. “I’ll keep you posted on the position of the Super Saracen fleet.”

  “You’re not staying.”

  “I’m not?” Jase asked surprised.

  “You’re going to find those Earth Navy ships and bring them here.”

  It might take an hour for our neutrino emissions to reach Lena’s squadron, but Jase could fly out there in a fraction of a second and tell her where the action was.

  He glanced at his tracking console. The Earth Navy squadron was still there, or they had been, an hour ago. “What if they’ve moved?”

  “They won’t leave Duranis. If they’re not there, bubble around until you find them. If the wormhole’s still up when you get back, tell them to destroy the Mavia. Ignore the Super Saracens. Kill the wormhole.”

  Jase hesitated. “What about you and Izin?”

  “Send us a warning, but don’t wait for us.”

  He opened his mouth to protest.

  “It’s Earth,” I said, cutting him off. “And every second counts!”

  Jase nodded soberly. “OK, Skipper.”

  “We’ve got the battle suits. We’ll make it, but if we don’t, the Lining’s all yours.” I gave him an encouraging wink. “Treat her like a lady.”

  The battle suit sealed shut around me, this time without the hiss
of escaping air, proof Izin had patched the hole behind my neck. The interior had been cleaned of blood spatters, the power cell fully charged and the suppressor still showed plenty of ammo.

  “No holes this time,” I said over the communicator. “At least my eyes won’t pop.”

  “Being exposed to space is the least of your worries, Captain,” Izin said as his suit came to life.

  “Depressurizing the cargo hold,” Jase informed us, then moments later, a rectangular section of deck hinged down into space revealing the gray hulled Mavia floating nearby. Each of her airlocks had large white numbers painted beside them, eleven to twenty.

  “Jump for sixteen,” I said.

  “Do you want me to control both suits?” Izin asked.

  “Not this time.” I replied as we moved down the ramp on magnetized boots to the edge. “I was wondering, with all the gravity that micro-singularity’s pumping out, are we being hit with time dilation?”

  “That’s a surprisingly insightful question, Captain, coming from you,” Izin replied, ever the master of wrapping praise and insult together.

  “I thought so,” I said accepting the compliment, ignoring the tamph condescension.

  “The acceleration fields, ours and the Mavia’s, are offsetting the singularity’s gravity. The only time dilation we’re experiencing is what we’d get on Earth.”

  “Right, one gravity. OK! Glad we got that sorted, now let’s go shut this alien monstrosity down before it turns Earth into an ice cube.”

  Izin pushed off, gliding toward airlock sixteen with barely a flicker from his thruster. When he’d almost reached the Mavia, I demagnetized my boots and kicked off after him. I soon found flying one of these tin robots was harder than it looked as I feathered the thruster one way then another, overcorrecting each time. It was certainly nothing like bouncing around in zero-g in a low mass pressure suit.

  Izin drifted into the airlock’s dark circular cavity, while I prepared myself for a gentle collision with the hull close to the airlock entrance. Just as I struck, Izin’s armored arm pinned my leg to the hull, preventing me from bouncing off, then I floated in beside him and was caught by the Mavia’s artificial gravity. He then moved to the airlock controls while I glanced back to the Silver Lining. Her belly door was already closed and she was backing slowly away.