Jack of Harts

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The following is the electronic Advanced Reader Copy originally sent to my Beta Readers in December. Take a look, and if it interests you, the final version is available for purchase now.

***

The Shang are truly determined enemies when it comes down to it. They are insanely rational, and I use that phrase with malice afore thought. For all their human appearances, they are alien in their ways of thought. They are merciless and calculating, willing to perform the most horrible acts in the understanding that it is done in their pursuit of the greater good. But what is good for them would be catastrophic for us. That is why we stand against them. Because no matter how devastating The War is for us, losing it would be worse.

III

 

Malcolm’s Blackhawk starfighter screamed through space on four blue fusion flames towards where dozens of other fighters held position around Wolfenheim’s seven hundred meter bulk.

Malcolm nodded towards Dawn as she maneuvered their starfighter through the outer ring of fighters. “Get me Yarl Torson, please.”

Dawn nodded, gave him an impish smile, and said, “By your command.”

Erik appeared on one of his displays in a few moments with a smile. “We meet again.”

Malcolm aimed a rueful smile at the Aesiran. “Yes, it would appear our subordinates conspired to make certain we stuck together.”

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” Erik said with a chuckle. “I think I’m going to have to remind them who’s in charge around here.”

Malcolm echoed the Aesiran’s chuckle before answering him. “I know exactly who’s in charge on my warships.”

Erik snorted. “The professionals, right?”

“Exactly,” Malcolm said with shrug. “Though it does us bureaucrats a disservice if we let them lord it over us too much.”

“Agreed.” Erik cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “So how do you suggest we make the lesson stick this time?”

Malcolm paused to give Dawn’s holoform a long look.

She just leaned against the back of the console and waved for him to continue, seemingly confident in his ability to come to the correct decision.

“Oh, I think some commendations for forward thinking and risk analyses may be in order,” Malcolm finally said as he turned back to Erik’s holoform.

Erik laughed again. “You do know how to deal with professionals! It is good to work with a man who recognizes the lay of the land.”

Malcolm glanced at his sensor display. “Speaking of the lay of the land, I’m seeing a lot of Shang ships out there.”

“Yes.” Erik rubbed his jaw and looked away from Malcolm for a moment. “This is what happens when Shang battle fleets come to play.”

Malcolm frowned. “We’ve not seen anything like this near Earth.”

“Terran space is too far away for them to send more than a handful of their fastest ships,” Erik said with a shrug. “They may think you will be dangerous in the future, but you are nothing compared to the threat the Arnam and Peloran are at this very moment.”

“Right.” Malcolm cleared his throat at the obvious dismissal in Erik’s tone. “Thanks for the morale boost there.”

“It’s what the Shang think about you,” Erik said with a smile. “I did not say I shared their thoughts.”

Malcolm cocked his head to the side and gave the Aesiran a long look. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what do you think about us?”

“I think the Shang underestimate your danger,” Erik said without hesitation.

“Really?” Malcolm asked in genuine confusion.

“You are here,” Erik said in a grim tone. “Right now. Far too near my people for my peace of mind.”

Malcolm spread his hands out wide in a peaceful gesture. “We don’t want to harm your people.”

“Just as I presume you didn’t want to harm the Shang.” Erik let out a long breath and looked around them. “And yet here you are. Preparing to harm them a great deal.”

“That’s not why we’re out here.”

“Isn’t it?” Erik smiled and shook his head. “Don’t take me for a fool, Malcolm. You are a warning to all of us. A warning that your people will not always be stuck in your little corner of the universe forever. That you are coming for all of us in time, and that we treat you as harmless little barbarians at our peril. You are the greatest threat to galactic peace we have seen since the Albion and the Ennead erased each other and several thousand star systems from the cosmos. Can you tell me I’m wrong in any of that?”

Malcolm heard the dull echo of the speech he’d given to Caroline a few short months ago, and couldn’t tell the Aesiran he was wrong. Malcolm and his people really were out here to tell everyone that Earthborn humanity was here to stay. But he was at least partially wrong about one thing.

“We don’t want to threaten your peace.”

Erik nodded in understanding. “I believe you. That doesn’t diminish the threat you represent, but I do believe your wish not to be a threat. And that is why I’m happy to fight at your side.”

“And the rest of my people?” Malcolm asked with a shrewd look.

Erik gave him a thin smile. “Your people do not worry me. It is those who follow you who have my rapt attention.”

“Join the club,” Malcolm said with a frown. He glanced at the sensors again and let out a long breath.

Most stars kept their planets orbiting on a generally flat plain that surrounded them. Asteroids, gas giants, and other objects moved further away or closer to the star as gravity spun them around it, but they almost always remained on that nearly two-dimensional field. It caused many people to think of solar systems as flat disks, with nothing above or below them. And they were mostly right.

The main Shang invasion fleets now controlled a broad swath of the main system ecliptic and were quickly moving towards Arnami Prime’s important infrastructure nodes. Two of their task forces currently held position ahead of Wolfenheim, but space above and below them appeared utterly empty.

“I don’t like the look of those task forces in front of us,” Malcolm said with a scowl. “We might need to pull up a bit before we pull the trigger.”

“Perhaps,” Erik returned and pursed his lips in thought. “My worry is what’s waiting in hyperspace to intercept us if we try for the obviously uncovered escape route.”

“Ah.” Malcolm nodded in agreement. “You thought about that too, did you?”

Erik nodded. “It’s how the Shang think. Sometimes I have to think like them if I wish to survive.”

“Agreed.”

“But you’re wrong,” Erik said with a sad smile. “We should go down.”

“Why?”

“Think more like the Shang.” Erik leaned towards the camera to give Malcolm a closer look at his very serious face. “They have a rigid sense of status, and higher is better to them. Only their least prestigious commanders will accept lower positions. We should find a less capable commander who will be easier to outsmart if we go low rather than high.”

“Prestige and capability don’t always go hand in hand,” Malcolm noted with a smile.

“Very true,” Erik said with an answering smile. “But do you have any better information to work with?”

“No,” Malcolm returned with a frown. “And I don’t think we can afford to wait much longer before making our move.”

“I agree.”

Erik pursed his lips and studied Malcolm for a long moment. “I think we will work well together, Son of Donnell.”

Malcolm considered correcting the man, but decided it was the better part of valor to let it go for now. So he smiled and nodded at the much larger man.

“I certainly hope so.” Then Malcolm turned back to Dawn. “Get me Olivia.”

Olivia appeared on a display again. “Yes?”

“I and Yarl Torson have been talking. He says the Shang are rigid about status, and that lower battle positions are less prestigious and probably less competent.”

“That makes sense. What does he suggest?”

“That we dive beneath the system ecliptic and make for the Red Line, rather than face those task forces ahead of us.”

Olivia pondered the idea for a few moments. “It could be a trap.”

Malcolm aimed a proud smile at Erik.

The Aesiran responded with an approving smile.

“Yes, but there’s a chance its not. And there’s no chance at all we’re going to get through those two forces without heavy damage.”

“I agree.” Olivia nodded. “I will speak to his commanders about the idea. Thank you for bringing it to me.”

She faded out of the display again.

Malcolm gave Dawn a sly smile and turned to Erik’s display again. “And that’s how you deal with competent subordinates.”

“They are a true blessing, aren’t they?” Erik asked.

“I couldn’t lead without them,” Malcolm said with all truthfulness.

Then he relaxed back into his acceleration chair and waited for the change he knew had to come. They had to keep Wolfenheim safe. The Class One Colonization Ship and her ten thousand colonists in cold sleep were the entire reason they were all here. If they died, the Wolfenheim Project would fail.

The change came without further warning. Normandy and her escorts dove down towards the empty space below Arnami Prime’s sun, with the entire Aesiran fleet maintaining position next to them. The sensor plot stabilized in a few seconds and projected course lines showed their combined force would soon move well outside the range that any known enemy could intercept them.

It was the unknown forces lying in wait that had Malcolm nervous.

A face and smile he knew well appeared on one of his displays.

Chadwick Austin Adelman had been an heir to the Adelman Family fortune back before Contact, and Malcolm had spent many long parties drinking with the man. Malcolm still remembered the day he heard the news that Bad Chad had died in the Battles of Alpha Centauri. There’d been state funerals. Flags had flown at half-mast over the Republic of Texas for weeks.

Malcolm had thought he’d never see the man again. Then one day on New Earth, John Smith had walked up and volunteered to join the Wolfenheim Project. He looked even younger than he had before The War, and he wore different clothing. He’d even acted differently than when Malcolm had known him.

But Malcolm recognized the smile the first time they met.

The kid swore up and down that John Smith was his real given name. Though the seventeen-year-old baby face could say the sun died while you slept with such guileless sincerity that you’d have to go outside and check for yourself before questioning his honesty. The real life Boy Scout, who surely helped old ladies cross the street in his spare time, was one of the cutest little killing machines Malcolm had ever met.

That’s what made him such a perfect recruit for this mission. He was an officially registered dead Real American Hero from Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112, the Cowboys. Going back home would have been awkward to explain. But disappearing into the trackless void of alien space? Nobody would look for a scion of one of Earth’s Great Families thousands of lightyears from Earth living under an assumed name like this.

And he wasn’t the only one.

There were a finite number of dead Cowboys. Malcolm had never asked the new recruits that appeared out of the woodwork who they really were. Charles hadn’t told him, they hadn’t told him, and so it was obvious they didn’t want him to know. But he was certain Jackie White was Drew Keawe, first daughter to the Star Kingdom of Hawaii. A real life princess. John Jones of Mars had once been Louis Mattioli, one of the best Pre-War lawyers on the entire planet. There were major court cases and settlements named after him. They’d both died during The War’s early months.

And then there was John Anderson. He’d never been a Cowboy, and he hadn’t died, but just about everyone back on New Earth knew he’d gone by the name Hunter Roberts back when he was an American Naval pilot flying off the USS Los Angeles. And they knew he’d resigned in protest after Captain Olivia Wyatt’s removal from the ship, and the service. They also knew that he was one of the Star Kingdom of Hawaii’s real life nobles, and a childhood friend of the now-deceased Drew Keawe. That made him a Real American Hero on two counts. Maybe three, depending on how you tabulated the results. Four if the snark was strong with you.

Malcolm was amazed at how many rich and powerful people were out here over Arnami Prime. There would be state dinners and grand receptions under any other circumstances.. But they were at War right now, and the stakes for humanity were far beyond a bit of botched diplomacy and spilled wine.

“Mister McDonnell,” Smith said with his standard, innocent smile.

“Mister Smith,” Malcolm returned their strange little ritual.

The man was never Captain, Major, or Whatever Smith. He was Mister Smith. Just another kid flying a retired starfighter for corporate money. Assuming anybody ever heard their conversations. It was a friendly little fiction born out of the necessity to be certain that nobody else realized the truth until the time was right.

“We appear to be escaping this battle rather handily,” Smith said.

Malcolm heard the “but” in there and sighed. “Feeling suspicious, are we?”

Smith nodded. “They’re coming for us. Any minute now.”

Smith was Ageless, just as he had been when adults called him Chadwick and everyone else called him Bad Chad. Just like Malcolm and Charles were. It was one of the rarest of all reactions to the Peloran Treatments that extended the human lifespan in most people. It was a mutation of some kind that turned them into something similar to both the Peloran and the Arnam.

Genetically engineered supersoldiers. Stronger, faster, and healthier than other humans. Able to heal from any wound that didn’t kill them. An utterly frozen aging process. Their bodies knew what they should look like, and so they would never age another day until something finally managed to kill them.

The catch was that their limited precognition made killing them a non-trivial task.

It was hard to kill someone who could sense danger coming before it arrived. John Smith had fought under the Peloran Confederation’s greatest admiral.

Aneerin.

Malcolm had spent his life doing little more than dabbling with his gifts. He could tell if someone was about to shoot him, but he’d never refined his ability to sense danger from someone who wasn’t even here yet.

He certainly couldn’t sense it from lightyears away like some of the crazier rumors said Aneerin could do. The man always seemed to arrive exactly where he was needed, when he was needed. That was a difficult act for anybody to match.

So Malcolm relied on the instincts of the professionals when it came to that. And John Smith was a professional worth listening to.

“We need to go to full alert, then. Could you tell Captain Wyatt about this?”

Smith smiled. “I just did.”

Another display flashed with a warning from the flagship to prepare for a surprise attack.

Malcolm chuckled. “Well played, Mister Smith.”

“Thank you, Mister McDonnell,” Smith returned before his display cut out.

“Erik?” Malcolm asked and turned his head back to display showing the Aesiran.

Erik was already frowning. “Our hyperspace probes have not picked anything up.”

“Be that as it may, they are coming,” Malcolm said without any doubt at all.

“How can you be certain?”

“Have you ever fought with the Peloran?”

Erik blinked. “They are formidable warriors.”

Malcolm smiled as the man didn’t answer his question, but he could work with that. “There are some who say they can sense danger coming before it arrives.”

Erik nodded very slowly. “I have heard those rumors.”

“Do you believe them?”

Erik cocked his head to the side for a long moment before nodding. “I do.”

“That is how I know.”

“Your Mister Smith does not look Peloran.”

“He’s Earthborn,” Malcolm said with a smile. “As am I. But we do share some of their more…interesting…capabilities.”

Erik blinked. “You are…Ageless. Intriguing.”

Malcolm leaned in to aim an intense stare at Erik’s image. “They are coming for us.”

Erik pursed his lips in thought. “The Sights are…easy to misunderstand.”

“Smith fought with Aneerin,” Malcolm said.

Erik leaned back in his chair and nodded again. “Many people have fought with Aneerin over the millennia. Most of them are dead.”

“He lives,” Malcolm said. He didn’t need to say that Smith had died with Aneerin as well. That would just make everything more complicated.

“Thank you for the warning.” Erik stared at him for a long second before continuing. “I shall inform my captains. It appears we will measure each other’s mettle, today, Son of Donnell. May we find each other worthy of the challenge before us.”

Malcolm thought again about correcting the Aesiran, but then squashed that thought. It was the literal meaning of his name, after all. So all he did was smile and say, “I’ll drink to that.”

“After the battle,” Erik said with a smile.

Malcolm nodded. “I’ll provide the beer.”

Erik returned the nod. “And I will drink it with honor.”

The display winked out and Malcolm leaned back to watch the two fleets prepared for battle on his other displays.

The small Aesiran warships and fighters spread out to cover every approach to their larger transports, their active sensors beating the very fabric of space as they sought out any threat.

Wolfenheim’s defenders were far more silent as they deployed for battle. The frigate Cochrane and destroyers Philadelphia and Rouen moved ahead of the fleet in a wedge as their passive sensors looked for any gravitic distortions.

Surprise, Normandy, and the four remaining frigates moved in close formation with Wolfenheim, ready to instantly react to any threat the forward wedge detected.

Malcolm glanced at the displays to see the approaching hazy Red Line denoting Arnami Prime’s hyperspace limit. Hyperspace jammers pushed it far beyond what most systems could claim, but they were rapidly approaching the jamming field’s edge.

Malcolm’s ships sported the very best Peloran hyperdrives, which could cut through an impressive amount of gravitic distortion to enter hyperspace. No Pre-War American warship could match their power, speed, or finesse.

A display blinked for his attention and Malcolm turned to see Murphy’s destroyers disappear into the rainbow light of a dive into hyperspace and frowned. It would seem they had managed to get at least a few Peloran upgrades on her ships.

His frigates and destroyers could probably follow her right now, thought he doubted Normandy could manage it. Wolfenheim certainly couldn’t. They needed to open more distance so the larger ships could safely make the shift.

They still needed a few more minutes before they could do that, and now she would be waiting for him out there. It would be all but impossible to get away from her if she got a sniff of them in hyperspace.

“They’re coming at us from behind!” Smith suddenly shouted on all frequencies.

Malcolm jumped at the interruption of his thought processes, his heart slamming at his ribcage in protest as shocked voices filled the frequencies.

“All ships. Bug out immediately.” Olivia’s steady voice calmed the frequencies, and Malcolm thought once more that he had won the lottery with her. “I repeat. Bug out now. All ships, bug out.”

And with no more warning than that, Wolfenheim’s squadron formation came apart.

Wolfenheim moved first, her ungainly gantry of assembled bits leaping like a scalded cat as engines the size of frigates exploded to double their normal maximum power. The four frigates surrounding her echoed her actions, and kilometers long fusion torches lit space as the colony ship and her closest escorts followed the bug out order and ran for the safety of hyperspace.

Normandy’s maneuvering thrusters came to life and spun her around. Cochrane, Philadelphia, and Rouen dropped straight down so Wolfenheim could pass over them before beginning their own spins. Surprise’s forward wedge detached from her cargo pods and spun to the side on flaring maneuvering thrusters before her cargo section brought the main engines to maximum burn and accelerated past the decelerating warships.

Then Malcolm’s Blackhawk came to life and her four fusion engines rocketed her past the warships and into Wolfenheim’s wake. Other fighters scattered and spun to face the incoming enemy, but Malcolm understood his part of the bug out plan. Wolfenheim had to be protected. No matter the cost. And Olivia had decreed in her infinite wisdom that Director Malcolm McDonnell also had to be protected as well.

So as five armed starships and four dozen starfighters spun to fight the enemy coming from behind, Wolfenheim, her escorts, and one fighter nominally piloted by Malcolm ran for their collective lives.

Hyperspace opened up behind them in a conflagration of rainbow light as saucer-shaped Shang ships began to appear. They arrived long before any of Wolfenheim’s defenders could finish their spins, and missiles and lasers lashed into exposed flanks.

Point defense networks chattered away, clawing down dozens of missiles, but deflection grids flared as leakers broke through everything the squadron could throw at them. They were the best deflection grids the Peloran could build, and they redirected a truly titanic amount of weapons fire. But Normandy’s portside hangar pod boiled armor, air, and wreckage into space as her grids flickered under the assault. Flames licked out to consume the air as hatches exploded and shattered. Shot after shot drove in, punching more holes into the carrier’s hangar bay.

Normandy’s two dozen turrets covering her main hull spun to return fire though, sending streaking missiles out past the burning hangar pod and into the teeth of the Shang assault in a rippling wave of death. Then three dozen Blackhawk starfighters swarmed around the carrier and added their own gravitic, missile, and laser fire to the effort.

The Shang deflection grids burned as the counterattack scratched and tore at them without mercy.

Surprise finally finished her turn and a gravitic beam linked her and the lead Shang destroyer for a single second. The destroyer’s deflection grids were already weakened by Normandy’s counterattack, and Surprise hit her at just the right time. The grids failed entirely and Surprise’s missiles and lasers melted her armor like butter even as the gravitic beam tore deep into her core.

The Shang destroyer came apart under the unexpected assault and her compatriots scattered as Smith’s Avengers came in for their own slashing attack. Over three dozen gravitic beams stabbed into the attackers, followed by hundreds of missiles and laser pulses that stripped deflection grids and armor alike.

Then three more shapes darted past Surprise. Cochrane, Philadelphia, and Rouen dove straight into the Shang formation, spraying dozens of point defense missiles and lasers into everything that moved with reckless abandon. The two destroyers carried a pair of capital-class lasers and a quartet of heavy missile launchers that slammed into ship after ship far more rapidly than even the most optimistic fireplan envisioned. Any tactical officer who generated a plan guaranteed to burn the weapons out through unsafe firing times would be cashiered in most cases after all. But the plucky defenders were outnumbered and outgunned by the Shang destroyer squadron, and they needed every advantage the new Peloran weapons could give them.

Deflection grids failed under the unexpectedly vigorous defense and one Shang destroyer after another belched atmosphere, flames, and debris.

But even in their sudden desperation, they reaped a painful harvest on Wolfenheim’s defenders. A salvo of missiles smashed through Cochrane’s grid and tore her entire starboard side apart. The frigate lurched away as flames vomited from her flank, and Philadelphia moved into the stream of fire tearing her apart. The destroyer’s heavier grids and armor managed to intercept the fire that would have killed her smaller compatriot, but they couldn’t possibly hold out for more than a second.

They didn’t.

Shang missiles tore through them and struck Philadelphia’s hull like the hammers of gods. Armor shattered, structure buckled, and flames lit space. And then the missile stream ended as Surprise struck again, tearing the Shang destroyer apart with another shot that twisted the fabric of gravity itself.

That was when Normandy finally came around and opened fire with her main cannons.