0300 Hours, July 17, 2552 (Military Calendar) /UNSC destroyerIroquois on routine patrol in the Sigma Octanus Star SystemCommander Jacob Keyes stood on the bridge of theIroquois . He leaned against the brass railing andsurveyed the stars in the distance. He wished the circumstances of his first command were moreauspicious, but experienced officers were in short supply these days. And he had his orders.
He walked around the circular bridge examining the monitors and displays of engine status. He pausedat the screens showing the stars fore and aft; he couldn’t quite get used to the view of deep space again.
The stars were so vivid . . . and here, so different from the stars near Earth.
TheIroquois had rolled out of space dock at Reach—one of the UNSC’s primary naval yards—just threemonths ago. They hadn’t even installed her AI yet; like good officers, the elaborate artificially intelligentcomputer systems were also in dangerously short supply. Still,Iroquois was fast, well armored, andarmed to the teeth. He couldn’t ask for a finer vessel.
Unlike the frigates that Commander Keyes had toured on before, theMeriwether Lewis andMidsummerNight , this ship was a destroyer. She was almost as heavy as both those vessels combined, but she wasonly seven meters longer. Some in the fleet thought the massive ships were unwieldy in combat—tooslow and cumbersome. What those critics forgot was that a UNSC destroyer sported two MAC guns,twenty-six oversized Archer missile pods, and three nuclear warheads. Unlike other fleet ships, shecarried no single-ship fighters—instead her extra mass came from the nearly two meters of titanium-Abattleplate armor that covered her from stem to stern. TheIroquois could dish out and take a tremendousamount of punishment.
Someone at the shipyard had appreciated theIroquois for what she was, too—two long streaks ofcrimson war paint had been applied to her port and starboard flanks. Strictly nonregulation and it wouldhave to go . . . but secretly, Commander Keyes liked the ornamentation.
He sat in the Commander’s chair and watched his junior officers at their stations.
“Incoming transmissions,” Lieutenant Dominique reported. “Status reports from Sigma Octanus Fourand also theArchimedes Sensor Outpost.”
“Pipe them through to my monitor,” Commander Keyes said.
Dominique had been one of his students at the Academy—he had transferred to Luna from theUniversité del’ Astrophysique in Paris after his sister was killed in action. He was short, nimbly athletic,and he rarely cracked a smile—he was always business. Keyes appreciated that.
Commander Keyes was less impressed, however, with the rest of his bridge officers.
Lieutenant Hikowa manned the weapons console. Her long fingers and slender arms slowly checked thestatus of the ordnance with all the deliberation of a sleepwalker. Her dark hair was always falling intoher eyes, too. Oddly, her record showed that she had survived several battles with the Covenant . . . soperhaps her lack of enthusiasm was merely battle fatigue.
Lieutenant Hall stood post at ops. She seemed competent enough. Her uniform was always freshlypressed, her blond hair trimmed exactly at the regulation sixteen centimeters. She had authored sevenphysics papers on Slipspace communications. The only problem was that she was always smiling, andtrying to impress him . . . occasionally by showing up her fellow officers. Keyes disapproved of suchdisplays of ambition.
Manning navigation, however, was his most problematic officer: Lieutenant Jaggers. It might have beenthat navigation was the Commander’s strong suit, so anyone else in that position never seemed to be upto par. On the other hand, Lieutenant Jaggers was moody, and when Keyes had come aboard, the man’ssmall hazel eyes seemed glazed. He could have sworn he had caught the man on duty with liquor on hisbreath, too. He had ordered a blood test—the results were negative.
“Orders, sir?” Jagger asked.
“Continue on this heading, Lieutenant. We’ll finish our patrol around Sigma Octanus and then accelerateand enter Slipspace.”
“Aye, sir.”
Commander Keyes eased into his seat and detached the tiny monitor from the armrest. He read thehourly report from theArchimedes Sensor Outpost. The log of the large mass was curious. It was too bigto be even the largest Covenant carrier . . . yet something was oddly familiar about its shape.
He retrieved his pipe from his jacket, lit it, inhaled a puff, and exhaled the fragrant smoke through hisnose. Keyes would never even have thought about smoking on the other vessels he had served on, buthere . . . well, command had its privileges.
He pulled up his files transferred from the Academy—several theoretical papers that had recently caughthis interest. One, he thought, might apply to the outpost’s unusual reading.
That paper had initially sparked his interest because of its author. He had never forgotten his firstassignment with Dr. Catherine Halsey . . . nor the names of any of the children they had observed.
He opened the file and read:
United Nations Space Command Astrophysics Journal 034-23-01Date:May 097, 2540 (Military Calendar)Encryption Code:NonePublic Key:NAAuthor(s):Lieutenant Commander Fhajad 034 (service number [CLASSIFIED]), UNSC Office of NavalIntelligenceSubject:Dimensional-Mass Space Compressions in Shaw-Fujikawa (a.k.a. “Slipstream”) Space.
Classification:NA/start file/Abstract:The space-bending properties of mass in normal space are well described by Einstein’s generalrelativity. Such distortions however, are complicated by the anomalous quantum gravitational effects inShaw-Fujikawa (SF) spaces. Using loop-string analysis, it can be shown that a large mass bends space inSF space more than general relativity predicts by an order of magnitude. This bending may explain howseveral small objects clustered closely together in SF space have been reported erroneously as a singlelarger mass.
PressENTER to continue.
Commander Keyes switched back to the silhouette from theArchimedes report. The leading edge almostlooked like the bulbous head of a whale. That realization chilled him to the core.
He quickly opened the UNSC database of all known Covenant ships. He scanned them until he foundthe three-dimensional representation of one of their medium-sized warships. He rotated it into threequartersprofile. He overlaid the image on the silhouette, scaled it back a little.
It was a perfect match.
“Lieutenant Dominique, get FLEETCOM ASAP. Priority Alpha.”
The Lieutenant snapped straight in his chair. “Yes, sir!”
The bridge officers looked at the Commander then exchanged glances with one another.
Commander Keyes brought up a map of the system on his data pad. The silhouette monitored by theoutpost was on a direct course for Sigma Octanus IV. That confirmed his theory.
“Bring us about to course zero four seven, Lieutenant Jaggers. Lieutenant Hall, push the reactors to onehundred ten percent.”
“Aye, Commander,” Lieutenant Jaggers replied.
“Reactor running hot, sir,” Hall reported. “Now exceeding recommended operational parameters.”
“ETA?”
Jaggers calculated, then looked up. “Forty-three minutes,” he replied.
“Too slow,” Commander Keyes muttered. “Reactor to one hundred thirty percent, Lieutenant Hall.”
She hesitated. “Sir?”
“Do it!”
“Yes, sir!” She moved as if someone had electrically shocked her.
“FLEETCOM online, sir,” Lieutenant Dominique said.
The weathered face of Admiral Michael Stanforth appeared on the main view screen.
Commander Keyes breathed a sigh of relief. Admiral Stanforth had a reputation for being reasonableand intelligent. He’d understand the logic of the situation.
“Commander Keyes,” the Admiral said. “The old ‘Schoolmaster’ himself, huh? This is the prioritychannel, son. This better be an emergency.”
Commander Keyes ignored the obvious condescension. He knew many at FLEETCOM thought hedeserved to command nothing but a classroom—and some probably thought he didn’t deserve that.
“The Sigma Octanus System is about to come under attack, sir.”
Admiral Stanforth cocked an eyebrow and leaned closer to the screen.
“I’m requesting that all ships in-system rendezvous with theIroquois at Sigma Octanus Four. And anyships in neighboring systems make best speed here.”
“Show me what you’ve got, Keyes,” the Admiral said.
Commander Keyes displayed the silhouette from the sensor outpost first. “Covenant ships, sir. Theirsilhouettes are overlapped. Our probes resolve them as one mass because Slipspace is bent by gravitymore easily than normal space.”
The Admiral listened to his analysis, frowning.
“You’ve fought the Covenant, sir. You known how precisely they can maneuver their ships through theSlipstream. I’ve seen a dozen alien craft appear in normal space, in perfect formation, not a kilometerapart.”
“Yeah,” the Admiral muttered. “I’ve seen that, too. All right, Keyes, good work. You’ll get everythingwe can send.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You just hang in there, son. Good luck. FLEETCOM out.”
The view screen snapped off.
“Sir?” Lieutenant Hall turned around. “How many Covenant ships?”
“I’d estimate four medium-tonnage vessels,” he said. “The equivalent of our frigates.”
“FourCovenant ships?” Lieutenant Jaggers muttered. “What canwe do?”
“Do?” Commander Keyes said. “Our duty.”
“Begging the Commander’s pardon, but there arefour Cov—” Jaggers began to protest.
Keyes cut him off with a glare. “Stow that, mister.” He paused, weighing his words. “Sigma OctanusFour has seventeen million citizens, Lieutenant. Are you suggesting that we just stand by and watch theCovenant glass the planet?”
“No, sir.” His gaze dropped to the deck.
“We will do the best we can,” Commander Keyes said. “In the meantime, remove all weapons systemlocks, order missile crews to readiness, warm up the MAC guns, and remove the safeties from one of ournukes.”
“Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Hikowa said.
An alarm sounded at ops. “Reactor hysteresis approaching failure levels,” Lieutenant Hall reported.
“Superconducting magnets overloading. Coolant breakdown imminent.”
“Vent primary coolant and pump in the reserve tanks,” Commander Keyes ordered. “That will buy usanother five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Commander Keyes fumbled with his pipe. He didn’t bother to light the thing, just chewed on the end.
Then he put it away. The nervous habit wasn’t setting the right example for his bridge officers. He didn’thave the luxury of showing his apprehension.
The truth was, he was terrified. Four Covenant ships would be an even match forseven destroyers. Thebest he could hope for was to get their attention and outrun them—hopefully distract them until the fleetgot here.
Of course . . . those Covenant ships could outrun theIroquois as well.
“Lieutenant Jaggers,” he said, “initiate the Cole Protocol. Purge our navigation databases, and thengenerate an appropriate randomized exit vector from the Sigma Octanus System.”
“Yes, sir.” He fumbled with his controls. He hung his head, steadied his hands, and slowly typed in thecommands.
“Lieutenant Hall: make preparations to override reactor safeties.”
His junior officers all paused for a second. “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Hall whispered.
“We’re receiving a transmission from the system’s edge,” Lieutenant Dominique announced.
“FrigatesAlliance andGettysburg are on an inbound vector at maximum speed. ETA . . . one hour.”
“Good,” Commander Keyes said.
That hour might as well be a month. This battle would be over in minutes.
He could not fight the enemy—he was severely outgunned. He couldn’t outrun them, either. There hadto be another option.
Hadn’t he always told his students that when you were out of options, then you were using the wrongtactics? You had to bend the rules. Shift perspective—anything to find a way out of a hopeless situation.
The black space near Sigma Octanus IV boiled and frothed with motes of green light.
“Ships entering normal space,” Lieutenant Jaggers announced, panic tingeing his voice.
Commander Keyes got to his feet.
He had been wrong. There weren’t four Covenant frigates. A pair of enemy frigates emerged fromSlipspace . . . escorting a destroyer and a carrier.
His blood ran cold. He had seen battles in which a Covenant destroyer had made Swiss cheese of UNSCships. Its plasma torpedoes could boil through theIroquois ’ two meters of titanium-A battleplate inseconds. Their weapons were light-years ahead of the UNSC’s.
“Their weapons,” Commander Keyes muttered under his breath. Yes . . . hedid have a third option.
“Continue at emergency speed,” he ordered, “and come about to heading zero three two.”
Lieutenant Jaggers swiveled in his seat. “That will put us on collision course with their destroyer, sir.”
“I know,” Commander Keyes replied. “In fact, I’m counting on doing just that.”