The White Fleet (Blood on the Stars Book 7) Read online

  “Seems like a good bet, Admiral. Our best matchup with them is fighters, for sure, especially since it looks like they may not have any of their own. Of course, there’s a chance they do have them, and those four ships just didn’t carry any…that’s a possibility we have to consider. We’ve got to be careful about jumping to conclusions, sir.”

  Barron felt uncomfortable with his former teacher and superior addressing him as ‘admiral’ and ‘sir.’ He almost told Horace to call him Tyler, but it didn’t seem appropriate in front of Dauntless’s huge control center crew. Besides, he doubted old ‘Ramrod’ Horace would have deviated a millimeter from the book as far as addressing superior officers, regardless of age or experience…even when the junior officer had been the only one to threaten the senior with a failing grade back at the Academy.

  “I agree about careless assumptions, Buck, but it sure looks like fighters are something new to them. You’re right, for sure, four cruiser-sized ships simply might not have had any squadrons, even if their line ships have thousands of fighters bursting out at the seams…but I’d guess they’d damned sure have better close-in defenses if fighters were in their arsenal. Don’t you think?”

  “I do, Admiral. But I still think we need to be cautious. And, even if they don’t have fighters, we have no idea what their heavier ships might mount. If they’re going to send a force to follow up on the one we just fought, we’d better get the hell out of here, and back to warn the rest of the fleet. Or, we’d better get ready for one hell of a fight.”

  “We can’t leave, Buck. We’ve got people down on the surface, and I can’t bring them back aboard. Not until we get this epidemic under control.”

  The line was silent for a few seconds. Barron knew what was going through the older man’s head. The landing party numbered in the hundreds, as opposed to tens of thousands in the fleet. And billions in the Confederation. Finally, Horace said, “You may have to make a tough choice at some point, Admiral.”

  Barron knew his old instructor was just telling him the hard truth, but he felt a rush of resentment anyway. He hated the idea of leaving any of his people behind—to almost certain death—but he couldn’t imagine issuing the order and giving up on Atara. They’d fought together, risked their lives in the same deadly battles. He’d always known he could lose her in battle, but that was something different than just pulling out—running—and leaving her behind.

  “And, if we stay? Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Well, Admiral, if we stay…then we’d better be damned ready to fight.”

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I want you to take Kraken through transit point delta…and I want you to find a good spot near the point, and wait. I want to know if any enemy forces are coming, and I damned sure want to know with as much time as possible before they get here.”

  “Yes, Admiral.” Barron couldn’t read Horace from his tone. The old officer was cold as ice. Which was why Barron wanted him looking out for the enemy. There was no one whose judgment he trusted more, no officer he was as sure would stay calm and focused, no matter what happened.

  “If you pick up anything—anything at all—you are to transit back and report. Understood?”

  “Yes, understood.”

  “Go ahead. Get through as quickly as you can, and get positioned. Dock with one of the supply ships before you transit, and get an extra load of drones. I want as much information as possible on anything coming our way.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “And, Buck…be careful.”

  “Always, Admiral.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  CFS Dauntless

  Zed-11 System

  Year 315 AC

  “We might be able to get enough volunteers for a skeleton crew, but it would have to be one of the battleships. Nothing else is large enough for the whole landing party.” Sara Eaton sat at the opposite end of Dauntless’s massive conference table, as befitted her place as second in command of the fleet.

  Barron looked down at the commodore, someone he considered one of his few true friends. She was right, technically, at least, but any operation to get the landing party off the surface, assuming he decided to make a run toward home before more enemy forces arrived, was more complex than it seemed at first. “We’ll need volunteer pilots for the shuttles, too, not to mention backup crews for the vessel carrying everyone in case those original volunteers fall ill and can’t run the ship any longer. We’ll try to cordon off sections of the vessel, attempt to effectively quarantine those from the surface…but we know almost nothing about this pathogen, except that many of our people were infected despite taking significant precautions.” Barron turned his head and looked down the table. He had called all his top officers together to discuss options. He knew the final decision was his, but he wanted to hear what his people thought before he made his choice.

  Cilian Globus had made his own opinion clear. The enemy fleet had disregarded all attempts to communicate, save for their perfunctory demand that the fleet surrender immediately. To a Palatian, that meant only one thing, and there was a single way to deal with it. He was in favor of making a stand at the planet, or perhaps even better, pushing on forward, trying to find the route to the heart of the enemy’s domains. Striking like a cobra, as the Palatian had put it.

  Barron wasn’t surprised, though it still amazed him how the prospect of battle could make a man as intelligent as Globus overlook a vast array of dangers and uncertainties in the mindless pursuit of redress for what he perceived as slighted honor. Barron had befriended more than one Palatian, and he’d come to respect them greatly. But, they could be their own worst enemies at times.

  “We have to do something, Admiral. We can’t just leave them all down there.” The volume of Eaton’s voice declined with each word. Barron understood. They couldn’t abandon the landing party, but unless the medical teams made a major breakthrough within a few hours, days at the most, there wouldn’t be any survivors on the surface to worry about. If pulling the fleet out was the right call, could he really delay, waste valuable time—and risk infecting the crews of the shuttles and the chosen quarantine ship—all to retrieve a group of people who would be all be dead soon, anyway?

  Part of him knew the situation on the surface was almost hopeless, that he shouldn’t allow it to affect his judgment…that he should pull the fleet out, go back to Megara, and advise the Admiralty of the new threat the fleet had found. That would be a painful choice, of course, made even more difficult because Atara was one of those he would have to abandon, and he wasn’t there yet. Intellectually, he knew he couldn’t let his feelings for her influence his decision…but he just wasn’t ready to leave his friend to abandonment and death.

  “Stripping down a battleship just reduces our combat power. And, running back home doesn’t solve the problem. We’ve got a new enemy, one that threatens not only the Confederation, but the entire Rim. If we let them see us run, we’re only inviting invasion. But, if we fight them here and beat them, we can gain the initiative…and give them a taste of what they will face if they invade the Rim.” Globus slapped his hand down on the table as he finished his statement.

  Barron looked over at his friend. He doubted anyone present had the slightest question as to the Palatian’s opinion on what to do. But, the Alliance forces were only a small percentage of the fleet’s combat power, and any decision Barron made to fight would mostly affect his Confederation spacers.

  “Commander Globus, I respect your point of view, and I agree on the unintended effects a withdrawal may have, especially on projecting weakness to a potential enemy who might take action based on that…though it is still a gamble. If we fight and lose, we may do more to encourage that invasion of which you speak. And, we must consider another factor. The Confederation knows nothing of this threat. Nor does the Alliance…or, for that matter, the Union or any of the other Rim nations. If we fight here and are completely destroyed, they are in danger of being attacked without w
arning.” Sonya Eaton was seated next to Barron, and as he turned toward her and listened to her words, he suddenly realized how much she looked and sounded like her older sister. He was shocked he’d never noticed it before.

  His eyes moved to the end of the table, to Sara Eaton, and back again to Sonya before he responded. “Captain Eaton is, of course, correct. Whatever we decide to do, our top priority must be getting a warning back to Megara. If the fleet remains here to fight, we must send ships back…a strong enough force to be sure it will arrive. We cannot leave the Rim without knowledge of what we have found.”

  A series of nods worked around the table, everyone present, including Globus, clearly concurring with Barron’s last statement.

  “At least we agree on that. As for our other course of action, I think we need to seriously consider what we might face if we remain here…and how we would fight it.”

  Barron had a feeling he should order the fleet to bug out immediately, even at the cost of abandoning his people on the planet. But he didn’t like running. He didn’t like it any more than Globus did. And, while he still regretted the prospect of making another enemy, he did feel a growing rage toward these ‘Masters’ and their followers. He’d done everything possible to prevent hostilities…to no avail.

  He told himself it was always best to avoid making enemies…but he also knew sometimes there just wasn’t a choice.

  And, if these people want a fight, I will make sure they get one…

  * * *

  “Stu, can you hear me?”

  Weldon looked up, groggily. His head felt as though a bomb had gone off inside, and his vision was weak and blurry. “Captain?”

  Atara Travis allowed herself a tiny smile. “Yes, Stu, it’s me. You gave us quite a scare there for a while.”

  “What happened?” But, even as he asked, it all started to come back. The lab…the injection. “I developed a serum from the natives’ blood,” he said, answering his own question. “I thought it would work.” For an instant, he wondered if it had, if his loss of consciousness had simply been a side effect of the cure. But it only took a few seconds for him to realize he was still deathly ill from the disease. “I guess I was wrong.” He leaned to the side, putting his arms out and trying to lift himself off the cot.

  “Wait a minute, Stu…you’re in no shape…”

  “There’s no time, Atara.” He felt the pressure, the pressing need to find a way to defeat the disease. But he knew it was already too late. He didn’t have the time to start over.

  Travis reached out and put her hand on his arm, helping him get to his feet. “Doctor Charles checked you out, Stu. He says you had a reaction to the drug, some kind of bodily rejection. He thinks it’s because, of all the natives have been through, the damage to their genes and the effects of the disease and subsequent annihilation of most of their gene pool. He believes they have progressed off on some splinter of genetic development, too far from our own norms, that they’ve almost become a slightly different species. Enough variation, at least, to prevent their blood from being a match for ours.”

  Weldon nodded his head. Of course…that had to be it. He’d been so hopeful the serum would work. He’d been certain he had isolated the immunity factor. But his body had rejected the drug and that had prevented proper absorption. He knew in his heart he had found the cure. But, none of the landing party could take it. “I need to see Sam right away, Captain. I think he’s right, and we need to find a way to get around this. We might have a cure here…if I can just find a way to get our bodies to accept it.”

  Travis looked down at the ground for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Stu. Sam Charles collapsed yesterday, right after he checked you out. We managed to get him in a medpod and into cryostasis, but he’s not going to be helping you with any research.”

  Damn…

  Weldon and Charles had been good friends, ever since their days at fleet med school. And, he needed his colleague now. They’d have to try a hundred different processes to find a way to strip out whatever factors were causing the rejection. He took a deep breath. There has to be a quicker way…but what?

  “I’m sorry to hear about Sam…” He paused for a few seconds, thinking about his friend. Then he turned and started walking slowly, back toward the small structure that had served as his lab.

  “Are you sure you’re strong enough, Stu? Maybe you should rest a little longer. Dr. Charles gave you some injections to combat the rejection, but you’ve been through a lot.”

  “There’s no time, Captain. If we don’t make some kind of progress now, we’re all done for. We…” He paused, looking at Travis.

  She looked back, waiting for him to continue. But, he just kept staring at her. “Are you alright, Doc?”

  “You still don’t have any symptoms?”

  She was taken aback by the subject change. “Ah…no, not really. I guess it takes longer in some people.”

  “Does it? In who?” As far as Weldon knew, every other member of the landing party had contracted the disease. Some were still in the early stages, while others, like Bryan Rogan, were barely hanging on. The big Marine had been the first to come down with noticeable symptoms, but he was still alive, his relentless constitution refusing to quite give up.

  But Atara Travis seemed utterly unaffected by the disease.

  Of course…

  He remembered the discussion with the Master, about the survivors all being descendants of people with natural immunity to the disease. Was it possible?

  He looked at Travis again, reached out, put his hand to her face, feeling for any signs of fever. Then he leaned in and put his face right in front of hers, looking into her eyes for any signs of cloudiness, another early symptom. But there was nothing.

  “Atara…you may be the answer.”

  “Me? Are you…”

  “No, listen to me. The entire landing party is sick…all except you. The people living here all have inherited natural immunity. That means that all other genetic lines are extinct here. But if there were people immune to the disease in the old imperial gene pool, they should be present in our own population as well.”

  She looked confused for a few seconds, but then she said, “You think I’m immune?”

  Weldon nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s the only explanation for why you’re not sick. And a serum derived from your blood shouldn’t trigger rejection in other members of the Rim population.”

  “My blood type is…”

  “It doesn’t matter, Atara. We’re not doing transfusions. We’re just developing a serum from your blood.” He grabbed her arm, losing all concern about rank and position. “Come with me…I need a blood sample from you, right now.”

  Weldon felt like death warmed over, as though he might fall over any second. But there was something inside him that hadn’t been there moments before, an energy.

  Hope.

  * * *

  “Very well. We will wait another day, and then we will make a decision. In the meantime, I want you all to contact the ships under your command…and I mean individual talks with the captains. I want every vessel ready for battle…and also fully prepared to turn around and head home…either on a moment’s notice. We’re dealing with something new and very dangerous now. I’m going to expect the very best everyone in the fleet has to offer.” Barron paused, looking down at the table and rubbing his eyes for a moment. The meeting had gone on a long time, and the fatigue was catching up to him. He pulled his head up again, surprised at just how much effort it took, and he looked down the table, as those present responded with various verbal and non-verbal acknowledgements.

  Then he turned toward Sonya Eaton. “Captain, I want you to prepare an evac plan for the landing parties. I want it on my desk in six hours. It’s got to be complete, and it has to be one hundred percent reliable for containing any harmful pathogens. It’s also got to be something we can execute in a few hours if I give the word.” He knew he’d just dumped a whole lot of unreasonable on his aide, but if
anyone present was up to it, he was confident it was her. No one could ever take Atara Travis’s place for him, but Eaton had surprised him with her ability and resourcefulness.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it at once.”

  “Very well,” Barron said, and then he leaned back in his chair, pushing against the fuzziness trying to invade his thoughts. I need a stim when this meeting is over. He wished he’d taken one before. “Kraken is on patrol in the next system, and Captain Horace will give us a warning if any enemy forces are approaching.” Assuming they come from the same direction. “That will give us some hours’ notice, perhaps even one to two days, depending on which point they come from into the adjacent system.” Horace had conducted a rough scan as soon as Kraken had transited, and he’d sent the cruiser’s cutter back to transmit the findings. They were rough, and very possibly incomplete—it would take more than one ship, plus a huge number of fighters or drones, to properly survey the entire system, tentatively named Zed-12—but they gave Barron something to go on.

  There was a transit point within half a light-hour of the one leading to the Zed-11 system, where the fleet still orbited the world they’d creatively dubbed, Planet Zero. Kraken’s scan had detected four other points, the furthest nearly a light-day distant. It would make a big difference on the fleet’s warning time, depending on the point from which enemy ships emerged into Zed-12.