The Clone Redemption

Could the people have known that the battle signaled their planet’s demise? Did they know that the bad guys had won and that the darkened carcasses above their planet were ships that had come to protect them?

“Ah, damn, they got our ships,” Holman said, as we approached the wreckage.

“Mystery solved,” I said.

I sat on the bridge, an invited guest of Captain Holman. Freeman waited for me on the transport, two decks below. Once we knew the coast was clear, I would join Freeman, and we’d fly down to the planet.

Holman had his crew on full alert. Our shields were up, our stealth generator was on, and the first round of torpedoes was loaded into the tubes.

We slowed to a near crawl as we circled the remains of the ships. I had grown numb to this morbid form of sightseeing. I no longer thought about the people who had died on the ships or the terror of their last moments. We cruised by slowly like mourners passing an open casket, and we stared in silence.

The first wreck we passed was a frigate, a small ship designed to block fighter attacks. I identified the frigate by her size. The Unified Authority’s killer torpedoes had smashed every other recognizable feature from the hull. The mothshaped frame had exploded into three separate sections still connected by a few shreds of metal. The nose of the ship was a jagged twist. No light shone from its remains, not even the flicker of electricity.

“These ships came from the Perseus Outer Fleet,” Holman said. He stood trancelike, staring at the scene. “I served in that fleet.”

Behind the frigate, the other ships assigned to the patrol looked equally demolished. They showed in silhouette only, dark and dead, silent forms floating over the sunlit sphere of Solomon.

“Captain Holman, I’ve located two U.A. battleships,” called one of the bridge officers.

“We should introduce ourselves,” said Holman.

Naval battles. As the ship goes, so does every man aboard her. During ground battles, Marines can conceal themselves or fight their way out of danger. One Marine can turn the course of an entire battle. It doesn’t work that way on a ship. I had my share of phobias—nukes and naval battles were at the top of my list.

“You okay, General Harris? You look a little pale,” said Holman.

I didn’t answer. Better to let him wonder if I was nervous than to let him hear it in my voice.

Moving slowly, we came around, circling the wreckage so that we were between the dead ships and the planet. We were so small. As we passed the ruins of a battleship, I realized that there was more than enough room for us to park on one of her busted wings.

A few moments passed, then I spotted them, two small shapes glowing like phosphorescent sea creatures as they came around the planet. It was always possible that they had spotted us. Our ship was a spy ship and had the finest stealth technology that the Unifieds had developed, but it used Unified Authority technology. Could they really have been so stupid as to create stealth generators without also developing a technology for seeing through the cloak?

The U.A. ships showed no signs of detecting us. They held their ground as we approached them.

“Captain, there’s a third ship about eighty thousand miles away, halfway around the planet.”

“Good to know,” said Holman.

Holman turned to me, his face beaming as he asked, “General, do you care which ship we sink first?”

“It’s your show,” I said. Like shooting fish in a barrel, I thought. With the stealth generator hiding us from detection, they would not be able to find us or protect themselves. Perhaps they would even think the first ship had suffered a malfunction. It would never occur to the arrogant bastards that a crew of lowly clones would use their ship and their torpedoes against them.

If we hit the second ship before they realized that an enemy had attacked, the third ship would try to flee the scene. Our spy ship was small, invisible, and fast, a predatory bird with a deadly strike. If we moved quickly, we might even hit the third ship before she engaged her broadcast engine.

“Fire blue pill,” Holman said.

“Blue torpedo away.”

“Fire red pill,” said Holman, spacing the torpedoes no more than three seconds apart.

“Red torpedo away, sir.”

“Now bring us around.”

Holman was a good officer, a careful officer. Firing the torpedoes would give away our position. By giving the order to “bring us around,” he was telling his helmsman to find a new place for us to hide.

We attacked that first ship from a few hundred miles out. It took the torpedoes a couple of seconds to cover the distance.

The moments passed slowly. Every man on the bridge stared at the viewport. My breath had caught in my throat.

The first torpedo struck, splashing a wave of electricity that arced along the shields—a gush of blue-white light flashed and vanished along the glowing golden sheen of the enemy ship’s shields. But the shields remained along the U.A. ship like a translucent skin.

Three seconds later, the red torpedo struck—a brilliant light that popped and vanished leaving the ship untouched.

“Fire another blue,” Holman barked.

“Aye, aye. Torpedo away.”

“Fire another after that. Helm, steer us below the target.”

The silence. The tension. The moment. I had no idea what was happening in the cargo hold/torpedo room; but on the bridge, the only people not sitting in stone silence were the officer steering the ship and Holman, who was telling him where to go.

I traced the small blue dots on the tactical display, then turned to the viewport in time to see the torpedoes hit their mark one right after another. The first pill struck, creating a flash that splashed across the shield. Before the first flash disappeared, the second torpedo renewed it. This time the blinding bright light engulfed the entire ship. Then the third torpedo struck. The torpedoes were powerful, no doubt; but so were the new shields on those ships. The torpedoes did damage, but they weren’t battering their shields as thoroughly as they had battered ours.

The tint shields spread, leaving the viewport as dark as a mirror in a room with no light, its shiny surface reflecting light from the bridge, but the viewport itself was opaque.

Holman shouted to his helmsman, “Hard about. Put us on top of them.”

Our torpedoes might or might not have destroyed the U.A. ship; either way she wasn’t moving. We could no longer see the scene on the viewport, the tint shields were too thick. The circle marking that ship on the tactical display remained as still as an island.

Our attack must have caught the other two ships unawares. All three ships remained perfectly still for half a minute then the navigator shouted, “Captain, two of the ships are approaching fast.”

While the ship we had hit remained listless, her mates circled the area, randomly firing lasers into pockets of space as they groped in the darkness to find us.

“What do you know; they can’t see through their own stealth technology,” Holman said.

“Did you think they might be able to?” I asked.

“They still might. They might also have a code that shuts down our generator.”

“To prevent someone from turning their own technology against them,” I suggested.

“Exactly right,” Holman said. “Right now, they’re looking for a needle in a haystack and hoping they’ll get lucky.”

“But they won’t?” I asked. Naval battles made me nervous. Sitting on a tiny ship hiding from two enormous ships had me on the verge of panic.

“They’d need to get very lucky. We’re a moving target, and we’re invisible. We’ll be safe as long as we don’t do anything that gives away our position.”

“What would give away our position?” I asked.

Holman met my gaze, paused, and said, “Launching a transport would give us away.” Then he turned from me, and said into his communications console, “Fire a red at the crippled ship.”

“Torpedo away, sir.”

“Fire another one.” Speaking in a cold calm voice, he said, “Fire another.”