John Ringo - Claws That Catch

“Which means exactly nothing to me,” Captain Prael said.

“Then try to keep up, Captain,” the commander said dryly. “HD 242896 is an F9V, that means hot-green star, located between the constellations of Sagittarius and Orion, more or less in Taurus, in the night sky. It is important solely because during their retreat from the Dreen, the Hexosehr found an interesting installation around one of its gas giants.”

“Define interesting,” Bill said.

“This interesting,” the commander replied, bringing up a slide.

Bill recognized the view as one that had been translated from Hexosehr sonar images. The Hexosehr used various sensors and then converted them to sonar terms, just as humans, for example, would convert the bounced radio signals of radar into blips on a screen.

Converting the result into visual images for humans was often a matter of art rather than science. And generally the art form was surrealist.

“What in the hell is that?” Captain Prael asked. It was a structure that looked a bit like an octopus mated with a walrus.

“That is the best image we’ve been able to create,” the commander said. “But this facility was in orbit around a giant the Hexosehr were refueling at. Whether it was a fueling station for a dead race or a living habitat, a space station… Perhaps all of the above. The purpose of the facility was unclear. It was heavily damaged and in retrograde orbit. However, their brief survey of it did find this.”

The commander reached into his briefcase and set a small black monolith on the table.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bill asked. “Because it looks a lot like the LBB that powers our ship. And if it is… make sure you’ve got a static protector or this entire city is going to be gutted.”

“If it is, it is broken,” the commander said. “The Hexosehr, knowing nothing about the technology, already applied electrical power to it. There was no result. Ditto various particle streams. However, the point is that the Adar found the LBB we now use on a star in the direction of Sagittarius. And now there is this facility. That indicates that the center of this predecessor race, the race that created the engine in the Blade , may be located near HD 242896. Given that they did not want the Dreen obtaining any technology from the race that built the facility, they attempted to destroy it. It was particularly adamant and resistant to even their chaos balls. They eventually increased its rate of descent and dropped it into the Jovian’s atmosphere. They are unsure if that truly destroyed it or not. For all we know, it’s simply sitting on the metal hydrogen center.”

“Now that would be something to see,” Bill commented.

“Indeed.”

“How far away is this place?” Captain Prael asked.

“Four hundred and twenty-six light years,” Lieutenant Fey interjected. He’d been tapping at his computer during the majority of the briefing. “I’d estimate twenty-three days transit. Fewer chill stops and better recyclers means we can make better time.”

“Get out there,” Admiral Townsend said. “Sailing orders are for nine days from now. Go to that star system first and check out the other planets. Then spread out. Standard orders. It’s a scouting mission, not a battle, but if you run into trouble or something that you think needs fixing, use your own judgment. With the increased storage space on the Blade II , not to mention the Hexosehr recyclers, you should be able to extend your away time over a hundred days. If you find anything that’s immediately useful, though, bring it back right away. By the same token, if you find anything that might be useful but you can’t bring it back, destroy it. We don’t want the Dreen using this race’s technology against us. And speaking of the Dreen. Commander?”

“Note that the Hexosehr were fleeing through this region,” the commander added. “The Dreen came from the general direction of the Triffid Nebula, which means towards Sagittarius as we see it. According to Hexosehr and our estimates, they probably have not started to colonize the region of HD 242896, but it is possible there are scouting forces in the area.”

“So keep on your toes,” Admiral Townsend said. “We want you back with your Blade , not on it.”

“Commander. Could I have a word with you?” Bill said pulling the Navy intelligence officer aside as the brass filed out of the secure room.

“How can I help you, sir?” The Navy commander raised an eyebrow at Weaver. Despite his being the blatant parody of a TV character, Bill liked him. Especially the way the junior officer had told Captain Prael to try to keep up. Bill had almost laughed out loud, but had thought better of it.

“What do y’all plan to do with that LBB in your briefcase?”

“It’s dead, Captain. The Hexosehr even think so. I guess it’ll get stored somewhere back at Area 51.”

“Maybe it’s dead, Commander. Maybe. But the Blade ’s LBB wiped out an entire star system without any sign of damage. I doubt whoever made it normally leave them just lying around ready to go. We got lucky with the first one. What if this one is just turned off?”

“Off?” The commander rubbed his open palm against the leather of his briefcase almost affectionately. “Hmm. Interesting point sir. What would you suggest?”

“There’s a little girl about to turn sixteen and I’ve been trying to think of what to get her for her birthday.”

“Sir?” The Navy officer looked down at a note that Weaver was scribbling on a yellow Post-It. Bill could tell by the commander’s expression that he recognized the name and phone number. Probably from other intelligence briefings.

“Tell her I said that this was all I could think of as a gift for the girl who in essence has the entire universe on her shoulders.” Weaver smiled, handed the officer the note and walked off. “Happy sweet sixteen, Mimi,” he said under his breath.

“Robin Zenikki.”

Zenikki had been covering the Pentagon and the military for over three decades, knew everyone and had a Rolodex to die for. The only thing that surprised Weaver was that it had taken him this long to piece things together.

“Bill Weaver,” Bill replied. “Long time. You never call, you never write, we never do lunch and then out of the blue…”

“Hey, Bill,” Zenikki said, obviously grinning. “Like your new job?”

“Better than being a civilian consultant,” Bill replied, leaning back in his chair and looking at the overhead. That he was a Naval officer was not classified information.

“I meant as the astrogator of a spaceship,” Zenikki said.

“Being in the Navy is fun,” Bill said. “Be aware that this conversation is being recorded. SOP in my new job.”

“So we’re going to play it that way?” the reporter replied with mock sadness. “I thought we were friends, Bill!”

“Like I said, you never call, you never write…”

“Well, you were kind of unavailable for comment when you went to that planet where all the Marines were killed,” Zenikki said. “You know, the ones that were supposedly killed in a helicopter crash in the Mojave?”

“And I’m still unavailable to comment, Robin,” Bill replied. “If that’s all you’ve got, I suggest you take it to the UFO society. Or maybe Weekly World News .”

“Are you denying that the U.S. has a spaceship that has been in at least one battle?” the reporter asked seriously. “Because I’ve got one confirmation already.”

“Your sources used to be better than that, Robin,” Bill said. “Slipping in your old age?”

“So that’s a confirmation?” Zenikki asked.

“Gimme a break,” Bill said. “No, it’s not a confirmation. Neither confirm nor deny. But if all you’ve got is some wild story about a spaceship and some dead Marines, I’d strongly urge you to refrain from making a joke of yourself.”