Inferno Sphere (Obsidiar Fleet Book 2) Read online

  “Not enough to provoke an instant recall of the Devastator?”

  “It’s worse than that – you simply won’t be able to return in time to influence events. Besides, the frontier problem remains and this is our single chance to enact a swift resolution and prevent the rebellion from becoming a distraction in the coming war. In the immediate term, my worry is that Roban has a hotshot captain on one of their ships who might think attacking a Space Corps Hadron is a good move.”

  “Have you checked the profiles of the officers based here?”

  “Of course, but rebellion does funny things to the mind. It can turn the most pacifist of individuals into gun-toting maniacs. In other words, I’m not resorting to guesswork.”

  “They have accepted the Devastator’s presence in orbit for the time being – with an escort.”

  “Keep it stable, Henry. You’ll be screwed if anyone starts shooting, even if it’s not your fault. It’ll be exceptionally hard to keep you sheltered if it goes wrong.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  “The Confederation Council are crapping themselves and they are looking to the Space Corps to get them out of a hole.”

  “They’ve given you free rein to act?” asked Talley in disbelief.

  “Not quite free rein. There’s oversight, but it’s distinctly hands-off.”

  Talley knew Duggan well enough to realise this was just another burden to be shouldered without complaint.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’m not going to give you an easy ride. I want you to get me a win, Henry. Pull something out of your hat so we can move away from the Tallin sector. You might not know it, but you’re the best man for the job – better than any of these so-called diplomats we employ.”

  “Resorting to flattery now?”

  “I know you’re immune to it. I have every confidence you’ll manage. I want the Rampage back and I want the release of the six Interstellars they have docked. Most of all, I want the whole rebellion to just go away.”

  “The Interstellars have become important?” That could only mean one thing.

  “The Council have made the decision to evacuate Atlantis. I want those spaceships.”

  “Even if I’m ordered to use force.” Talley made the words fall somewhere between a question and a statement.

  “It won’t come to that. The Devastator is the only ship we’ve got there. I’ve recalled the ones we had on the way - we need to keep them close to our centre.” said Duggan. “I’ve got to go. We’ll catch up when you get back.”

  “It’s overdue.”

  Talley ended the connection and removed his earpiece. The others of his crew looked uncomfortably at each other, as though daring someone else to speak first. It was Commander George Adams who took on the duty.

  “What’s going on, sir?” he asked earnestly. “It seems like everything’s going to shit, if you’ll pardon the expression.” Adams was burly and with the flattened nose of a brawler. Looks were deceiving and he possessed a fierce intelligence.

  Talley considered how much he should tell the others. In the end, there was little point in keeping too many secrets, since the cat was pretty much out of the bag.

  “Which piece of bad news do you want first? The very bad news, or the exceptionally bad news?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  CAPTAIN CHARLIE BLAKE stared at the blank viewscreen with a certain amount of trepidation, waiting for it to illuminate and for the person at the other end to determine his fate. Meeting Room 73 on the Juniper was icy cold and the stark metal walls seemed to magnify the chill. A glance at the square wall clock told Blake he was one minute early.

  At exactly the pre-arranged time, the viewscreen lit up. The image shimmered and then stabilised, with faint static the only sign of the immense distance between New Earth Central Command Station and the orbital.

  There was a man visible. He was an old man with short-cropped hair, unstooped despite his years and with a piercing gaze. Fleet Admiral John Nathan Duggan was standing in his office, with an air of calm which was surprising given the threat hanging over the Confederation.

  “Good morning, sir,” said Blake.

  “Captain Blake,” Duggan acknowledged. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

  “Of course.”

  “The allegations against you are serious. Captain Kang accuses you of jeopardising the entire Response Fleet Alpha operation. We lost several of our warships, along with their crew and troops.”

  “Yes, sir. I am truly sorry for our losses.”

  “So am I, Captain Blake.” Duggan stared directly through the screen. “I relieved Captain Kang of his position an hour ago and dismissed him from the Space Corps. The man was an absolute disgrace. If I could in good conscience hire him again with the specific intention of firing him for a second time, I would gladly do so.”

  Duggan’s veneer of calm remained, but it was easy to tell he was seething below the surface.

  “I was expecting to be subjected to a greater scrutiny,” Blake admitted.

  “You were.” Duggan smiled thinly. “I’ve had a team of fifty combing through the audit logs of the warships in Response Fleet Alpha. There was only one conclusion.”

  “I am pleased the truth was apparent, sir.”

  “I also had the same team examine the combat logs of the ES Lucid. You did very well in the circumstances.”

  Blake knew when it was best to keep his responses short. “Thank you.”

  “You are now the only captain in the Space Corps below the age of seventy-two who has been involved in a real engagement with an enemy fleet and come out of it with a confirmed kill. Three confirmed kills in your case.”

  “The Lucid packs a real punch, sir.”

  “That it does. Unfortunately, it’ll be in the shipyard for several months until it’s returned to a fully operational state.”

  “We don’t have much left that can challenge the Vraxar.”

  Duggan reached out a hand and grasped the tiny sensor which was relaying the image. He twisted it around until it was aimed out of the window in his office. At first, Blake wasn’t sure what exactly he was meant to be looking at. Then, he saw a shape, hovering in the grey of the New Earth skies outside Duggan’s office.

  “Which ship is that, sir?”

  “The Lucid’s sister ship – the Abyss.”

  “It’s waiting to land?”

  “We have only one docking trench here with the facilities to fit an Obsidiar core. You can’t see it from my window, but they’re working on the ES Maximilian. I’d initially recalled a number of smaller ships. After further reflection, I decided to wait a few additional days so we could install the cores on our larger vessels.”

  “How much Obsidiar do we have?” asked Blake. Information such as this wasn’t widely available and he was curious.

  Duggan’s hand pulled the sensor back into its original position. “You’d think the answer to that would be straightforward,” he replied. “Unfortunately, it is not. In theory, we could install cores into approximately fifty of our warships. However, there are new technologies in the labs which are in touching distance of viability and these will place a new set of demands on an Obsidiar core.”

  “In other words, each warship will need a larger core?”

  “Precisely. The Maximilian is going to be fitted with a two hundred thousand tonne cylinder, which is similar in size to that carried by the Devastator. I hope to have new technology prototypes available to drop in soon, which will take advantage of the extra power.”

  “We’re going to run out of Obsidiar very quickly.”

  “There’re never enough of the things you value the most, Captain. I long for the days in which Gallenium was the most precious resource known to the Confederation. You don’t need to destroy planets to extract the stuff. To make matters worse, some of our technologies will result in the destruction of the Obsidiar they employ.”

  “We need to find a new source, sir.”
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br />   Duggan smiled grimly. “A fine plan, Captain Blake. However, the means continues to elude us and I do not wish to be the man who orders the destruction of a hundred planets in the hope we can somehow stumble upon some fragments.”

  Blake wanted to say more on the subject, but he could see the Admiral didn’t wish to continue the discussion. He changed the subject.

  “What are the current estimates on the Vraxar capabilities, sir?”

  “Thousands of warships. They defeated the Estral, though you learned it was a close call. With or without Neutralisers, we can’t defeat them.”

  “Maybe they were weakened in victory.”

  “That’s a straw we’re clutching at.”

  “The Space Corps has four hundred and twenty active warships,” mused Blake.

  The numbers didn’t add up in the Confederation’s favour, especially given how many vessels in the fleet were either old or the smaller, less effective destroyer types.

  “We estimate the Ghasts have in the region of three hundred,” said Duggan.

  “Will they join us?”

  Duggan looked pained. “We’ll see.”

  “Even combined, seven hundred warships wouldn’t be enough, sir. With or without Obsidiar cores.”

  “As it stands, you’re correct.”

  It seemed like Duggan was happy enough to talk and it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

  “You have something in mind, sir.”

  “Our tech labs are capable of producing many powerful weapons if they’re given the time and funding. The Vraxar have come for us at a time when several avenues of research are combining into something we may find useful.”

  There was an underlying caveat. “If only we had enough Obsidiar?”

  “As always.”

  With a flash of insight Blake realised why he was still here in the meeting room, instead of being dismissed to his usual duties.

  “What is my next assignment, sir?”

  “I’m that obvious, am I?” asked Duggan. This time there was genuine humour in the smile. Then, the smile vanished. “If you were the leader of the Vraxar, come to conquer new worlds, what would you do after you’d left Atlantis?”

  “I’d go somewhere out of the way until I could extract useful information from the ES Determinant’s data arrays.”

  “You wouldn’t need to go far,” said Duggan. “In fact, it would be for the best if you stayed as close as possible.”

  “For all they know, our next planet could be six months’ high lightspeed travel away from Atlantis.”

  “Regardless, you’d still remain close to a known point of reference.”

  The meeting room felt suddenly colder. “Have we found them?”

  “Look at this,” said Duggan.

  The image on the viewscreen changed from showing the Fleet Admiral’s office, to a zoomed-in picture of a barren planet or moon, with no clear indication where it might be. A shadow flickered over the planet’s surface and then disappeared just as quickly. The viewscreen resumed its feed from Duggan’s office.

  “One of our deep space monitoring stations picked that up five days ago. If we hadn’t upgraded the station to Obsidiar processing units, the sensors would have missed it.”

  “I assume you’re telling me it’s Vraxar.”

  “Analysis of the recording suggests it’s not Ghast,” said Duggan. “It’s definitely not one of ours, therefore we must assume it’s likely to be Vraxar.”

  “Where was the sighting?”

  “Just another planet somewhere out in space. It’s approximately three days’ out from Atlantis, which makes it close enough to use as a temporary base, yet far enough away that it wasn’t likely to be found.”

  “Except we did find it.”

  “We found it through luck, Captain Blake and I am not a man who likes to rely on luck. At the moment, I’ll take whatever I’m given.”

  “When do I leave?”

  “Don’t be so eager. I picked you because you’ve seen action and that makes you the most experienced captain I have available. I don’t need arrogance.”

  “Apologies. I wish to do whatever I can to help, sir. I’ve seen these bastards and smelled their stench. If there’s a way to stop them, I’ll be at the front of the volunteers’ queue.”

  Duggan appeared satisfied with the answer. “I believe you and you’re about to get a chance. The ES Blackbird is due to enter local space above Nesta-T3 in the next three hours. There’s no time for it to dock with the Juniper. Instead, you’ll be waiting for it in a shuttle. You’re going to investigate the sighting and gather as much information as possible.”

  Blake felt a thrill of excitement. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve assigned a crew. Get out there and get us some intel, Captain Blake. We’re relying on you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “You’ll need to. If this really is Vraxar, they’re only three days from Atlantis. My projections team told me we’d have months until the Determinant’s data arrays were cracked, so I’m not pleased to find the enemy waiting on our doorstep. If they decide to make a punitive strike for whatever reason, there’s little we can do to stop them.”

  “Is Atlantis unguarded, sir?”

  “Not quite. We’re outgunned though and a planet is an easy target. The reality is, I’d hoped the Vraxar would have travelled much further away than they have. This sighting is bad news. If they’ve left significant forces, Atlantis will continue to be in real immediate danger.”

  “That danger will never go away while the Vraxar exist.”

  “The Confederation Council approved an evacuation. The first two Interstellars will arrive in three days.”

  “Do the people know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Where are they going?”

  “Somewhere out into deep space, to a location selected at random by a processing unit on the Juniper. They will stay there for a time until we can construct temporary shelters on another Confederation world.”

  Blake added up the numbers. “Two Interstellars can’t carry everyone.”

  The response was short and invited no further questions. “No.”

  With that, Blake was dismissed. The viewscreen went blank, leaving him to sit for a short time gathering his thoughts. The faraway sounds of operations on the Juniper were the only intrusion onto the silence.

  He pushed himself upright and headed for the door. There was an information panel in the wall adjacent and he paused to access it. A check on the latest orders assigned to his personnel number showed there was a shuttle reserved for him at a docking iris two levels down from his current floor. The Space Corps was nothing if not efficient when it came to administrative tasks.

  A lift carried him down the two floors. There were other people with him, but he hardly noticed their presence, nor they his. A short walk later and he entered the red-lit docking room – it was a long, narrow space with a plain metal floor extending to the left and right. There were circular docking irises every eighty metres or so. A couple of soldiers strolled nearby, gauss rifles over their shoulders. Otherwise, there were few people to be seen.

  Blake found Docking Iris 32. He climbed six steps onto a platform and stopped in front of the door. There was a fractional delay while a node from one of the Juniper’s many processing arrays decided he was in the right place at the right time. The door spiralled open, allowing him access to a long, claustrophobic corridor lit in the same deep red. He stepped inside and the thick door closed behind him. He sniffed - there was an out-of-place smell of coffee, and persons unknown had discarded a trio of plastic cups onto the floor.

  With a tut, Blake walked along the corridor. At the end, a second iris opened allowing him access to his designated shuttle, which was currently latched onto the Juniper’s hull.

  The shuttle was one of the older, compact models, with careworn seats designed to be tolerated for short distances only. The floor was particularly grubby and several rows of seats had been
ripped out at the rear of the passenger bay – a sure sign this vessel had been used to transport a piece of ground artillery in the past. There was one additional passenger, a person whom Blake recognized. Not so long ago, the appearance of this person would have caused his heart to fall.

  Now, he discovered he was actually pleased to see Lieutenant Caz Pointer.

  “Hello, sir,” she beamed.

  “Hello, Lieutenant.”

  “This is all very secretive, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve not been told?” He cursed inwardly. Of course she hadn’t been told, since he’d only learned their destination himself a few minutes ago.

  The smile left Pointer’s face when she saw Blake’s expression. “I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me, am I?”

  “No, Lieutenant, probably not.”

  There was a grinding, shuddering thump, followed by a momentary sensation of free-fall. The shuttle’s navigational computer piloted the craft away from the Juniper and off towards its pre-programmed destination. Inside, the two occupants mulled over the hand fate had dealt them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “ALIEN BASTARDS AND A REBELLION,” said Lieutenant Poole, scratching his stubble-covered neck with thick fingers. “I don’t know which end of the universe I would prefer to be at. On balance, I think we’re wasted out here.”

  “We’re definitely wasted,” Talley agreed. “Of all the times this Frontier League could have chosen to break away, they managed to pick easily the least convenient.”

  “Is it significant?” asked Lieutenant Mercer.

  It was a good question. “Ultimately, it probably doesn’t matter one way or another,” said Talley. “The Confederation embraces free will and if these two planets see their future elsewhere, there’s little we can do about it in the long term. In the short term, they’ve stolen the ES Rampage and they’re keeping us out here when we would be much better placed in the Garon sector.”