“Survivors?”

“None.”

Jason Hunter rose from the Argent conn and stood before a scene he never imagined he would witness. Starship after starship tumbling in space. Dead hulks hanging at odd angles. Radiation fires and poisonous emission trails strewn across the carnage. The word ‘aftermath’ rang in his mind, like the sound of a metal club hitting a bent road sign. His duty to log the event pushed its way into his immediate thoughts. But for the moment, he was unsure how to even begin to describe what he was seeing.

Yet it was real. Painfully so. The human toll would take days to comprehend. The cost to Skywatch in trained crews and tonnage would be a grotesque debt that would task the fleet for an intolerable number of years.

“Report on signals received?”

Lieutenant Commander Zony Tixia hesitated as she gathered the strength to speak without risk of her voice wavering. “Negative, sir.”

“I want another pass.”

“Sir, I–” Zony stopped herself. She knew the results would be the same. None of the destroyed ships were pressurized. No EV suits were in operation. No powerarmor was in operation. No autonomous circuits were functioning. From a ready status standpoint, none of the hulls were even indicating stable power transfers. Many of the heavier hulls were bathed in the hot emissions of their own reactor fuel and coolant. Some of the metal surfaces were being read at hard temperatures of over 1000 degrees Fahrenheit.

But the captain was an optimist. Hunter was the kind of officer who would, in fact, bring the entire fleet with him to find one survivor. He took the Skywatch doctrine of “leave no man behind” as seriously as any other officer of the line. If he wanted two sensor sweeps, that’s what he would get.

“Second sensor pass complete. No change in initial readings.” Zony Tixia’s heart sank. She watched as Hunter just stood there rigidly, as if alone in his search for some kind of sign that what his ship had discovered wasn’t as bad as it appeared. If what he had found turned out to be the result of an attack, it would be one of the most devastating losses of life in fleet history.

“How the hell could this have happened without so much as a distress call?” Lieutenant Leach was as awestruck as his captain. Even with his occasionally exaggerated opinions about the power of a battleship’s weapons, it was difficult for him to believe any enemy force could do what was clearly evident on the main viewer.

“Superior jamming capabilities. They managed to run down the ships that withdrew.” Hunter replied in a faraway rhetorical tone.

“Then why engage at all?” Commander O’Malley offered. “Surely they would have known long before the first shot was fired there was no chance to prevail.”

“Ambush,” Leach said.

“Two datalinked battle groups?” O’Malley shot back. The weapons officer started to respond, but was interrupted.

“All decks reporting general quarters, sir,” Zony said, hoping to distract the sudden lurch of discussion in the direction of emotional conflict. “All stations indicating alert status upgrade.”

Hunter didn’t respond.

“Sir?”

Finally the captain took a deep breath. He spoke without looking. “Acknowledged, commander.”

It was not lost on any of the bridge officers there was suddenly a rather large and obvious target now painted on their captain. The arrival of their new escort ships had been sudden, compared to the time normally required to assemble a full strength battle group. It was also welcome. The firepower that surrounded Argent now was at least somewhat effective against the intense anxiety amongst her crew about what might happen next. For some, it was just the next logical step in what had been an unnervingly fast buildup to armed conflict. For others, it was like the destruction before them. They had never seen anything like it, and neither had any of the other command officers in the formation.

Leach was the one who took the risk. He knew the XO wouldn’t. Commander O’Malley was a lot of things, most of them admirable, but he wasn’t accustomed to the role of “the guy who says what needs to be said” yet.

“They might come after us next.”

Every officer on the Argent bridge tried to avoid reacting to those words. Individually each of them might have been brave enough to make such a statement, but at the moment, they hadn’t quite reached the same level of indignation as their weapons officer.

“Let them.” Hunter said coldly.

Now that he had re-emphasized the danger, Leach was unwilling to push the matter further. The tone in Hunter’s voice was unmistakable. His reputation as a warrior was well earned as was his inclination when confronted.

“Signals, designate all unidents hostile until further instructed.”

Zony swallowed. It was an unusual order, bordering on reckless, but understandable given the circumstances. “Aye,” she replied softly. There was no telling what might pop up out of the debris field. Perhaps their instruments weren’t picking up the survivors’ life signs for the same reason the ships were attacked and destroyed in the first place. Zony’s first responsibility when entering any star system was to clear frequencies the moment she had the opportunity, but even then, there were any of a number of explanations that could fit the circumstances. She stood by her conclusion no life signs remained, but she was also three-quarters human and therefore imperfect. She might be wrong. In fact, she was more than willing to be wrong, because facing the alternative was unthinkable.

The order to designate unidents hostile put Argent in a rather aggressive posture. There would be no challenge or baring of teeth if something did appear unexpectedly. There would be no advance communication or verification of status either. Hunter’s ship would unleash unimaginable wrath without the slightest remorse at the first hint of a target. Zony realized this was likely the reason he had asked for that second sensor pass.

Meanwhile, as compelling as the theoretician’s arguments might be about the imperfections of life sensors and SRS banks, it was the captain’s responsibility to weigh them against the safety of his ship and crew. The number of people aboard unclear about Jason Hunter’s stance on the importance of his ship were in rather short supply. It was roughly equivalent to the number of people who believed Argent’s captain would back down in the face of a threat.

Commander O’Malley stepped down from the force command station to the conn. He turned away from the majority of the other crew members and spoke quietly so as to avoid alarming any of the junior officers.

“I presume you’ll want a strike force and a ready alert standing by in the event our friends return?”

“A wise precaution, XO,” Hunter replied quietly. “Proceed.”

“How do you want the strike group armed?”

Hunter locked gazes with the commander. “Revelation chapter sixteen.”

“Yes sir.”

O’Malley returned to the force command station. The captain’s fists were clenched tight enough the whiteness in his fingers was visible from the other bridge stations. He stalked back to the conn and unhooked the black handset from the overhead console.

“Skywatch, this is Charlie Oscar. I want Minstrel on orbital approach. Identify the surface contact. Order the ready alert to form a combat escort. Alert condition one. Weapons hot.”

The buzzy, popping voice of the CIC officer came through instantly. “Yes, captain.”

Argent’s formidable deployment waited impatiently at system’s edge as the relatively tiny form of the escort frigate DSS Minstrel ventured closer to the primary. Core Seven’s star was a quiet yellow sun. It was not remarkable in any way and presented no obstacles to any of the battle group’s instruments. In fact, the entire system had been at best a middle-of-the-priority-list concern for the Alliance civilian government right up to the moment the Sarn Star Empire’s forces moved on the Manassas system. Up to now, even those willing to speculate had failed to coax out any plausible reason such heavy formations were even present at locations so far removed from the empire’s previously fixed borders, much less using them as way points for their determined advance into human-controlled systems. Nevertheless, the gradually expanding field of annihilated fleet warships was conclusive proof someone or some thing had issued the order to invade Core space and to hit humanity’s defenses hard enough to make it clear this was no mere hostile act.

This was a declaration.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Signals, send a coded message to CINC Southern Banner. Priority one. Include all log entries to date and request instructions.”

“Aye, sir, coding your message.” Zony was a little relieved at the routine order and the routine procedure required to carry it out. It gave her an excuse to do something other than stare at the destruction.

The crews of more than a dozen starships watched silently as the tiny tactical indicator representing Rebecca Islington’s insect-sized vessel crawled across their screens. Surrounding the frigate were four of Argent’s top-of-the-line Wildcat fighters. Every ship had its weapons charged and Islington’s ship had its missiles armed. If something appeared abruptly, given Hunter’s orders a rather violent furball was inevitable, followed by a prudent tactical withdrawal which Minstrel’s captain often jokingly referred to as a “botched robbery.” By now the Argent’s captain had been afforded many opportunities to witness the crew of the “Firecracker Frigate” in action. Like his twin sister, Hunter had come to rely on the little ship’s propensity for not only getting off fortunate kill shots, but getting away with them afterwards. He wouldn’t have sent anyone else.

“Message from commander Minstrel, sir.”

“On screen.” Hunter still had the console handset in his fist.

The compact bridge of Minstrel looked very different from her flagship’s much more cavernous top deck. The look on Islington’s face, however, was rather similar to that on the captain’s.

“Surface contact on planet four appears to be a single structure. We have visual confirmation, but our instruments can’t read it.”

“Say again, Minstrel? Instruments can’t fix its position?”

“We can’t get any reading on it, sir. No emissions. No magnetic field. We have visual confirmation, but our scanners indicate it’s not there.”

“What the hell is it, then?” Hunter snapped.

Minstrel’s channels switched over. The picture became an image of what looked very much like a wood shingle roof viewed from above.

“I’d say it’s a single-story house. Perhaps two to three thousand square feet area. Conventional construction materials.”

“Life signs?”

“We can’t read anything at that location, sir. There’s no intelligible information coming from those coordinates. We’ve pinged it for range and performed a spectroscopic pass. None of our instruments get any data back at all.”

“Speculation?”

“At best I could offer a guess, but I don’t think it’s going to be of much value,” Islington replied.

“No other readings?”

“There’s nothing man-made within 200 miles of the location. Cal’s theory is whatever happened here stayed above orbital altitude.”

Hunter slammed the handset back into the console, muttering profanities under his breath. “Order Minstrel back to the formation. Have them transmit their telemetry to Zony’s console and tell me what that thing is.”

As the indicator representing Minstrel began crawling back to its starting point, information flooded Zony’s sophisticated information-sifting circuits. As she studied the readouts, Lieutenant Leach stepped aside to make way for Commander Annora Doverly. Argent’s medical chief wasn’t any better composed than anyone else on the deck. Hunter was tight-jawed in his command chair. It didn’t look like he was at all interested in polite greetings or theories. Zony worked fast, but it only took about 30 seconds for Hunter’s patience to run out.

“What are we looking at, commander?”

Zony knew better than to even consider saying “I don’t know.” The telemetry in front of her didn’t make much sense, which meant conventional explanations were off the table, so she decided to prepare her captain for something more unusual.

“I have a theory, sir, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“At this point, Zony, I’ll take whatever is available.” Hunter’s gaze was locked on the viewscreen.

“The structure at Islington’s coordinates is made of anti-matter.”

That remark was even enough to get Argent’s pilot to turn and look at the signals console.

“Say again?”

“That’s the only thing that would explain both the lack of positive mass and the lack of a magnetic field simultaneously. Our instruments are built with certain assumptions about the laws of physics. A stable mass of anti-matter isn’t on the menu, so to speak.”

The conflict between concern over the still-burning massacre of starships and the absurd question of a house made of anti-matter was causing the captain’s face to gradually change color. Zony knew that look, but this time she couldn’t do much about it. Facts were facts.

“How can anti-matter exist in our universe without a magnetic field?” Leach asked.

“Maybe there is one,” Doverly replied.

“There would have to be,” Zony said. “If that house suddenly popped into existence at that location without some means of preventing it from coming into contact with the ground or atmosphere, it would leave nothing behind but a radioactive crater about two miles deep. The gamma burst would have sterilized the entire continent.”

“I remember well my academy physics professor explaining an anti-matter reaction with just the mass of an apple would be twice the nuclear yield of one of our AMAX warheads,” Hunter said.

“Exactly, sir,” Zony added. “That house has the yield of our entire arsenal several times over.”

Lieutenant Leach exerted considerable effort to keep his breathing steady. He wasn’t entirely successful. Of all people, a weapons officer knew better than to non-chalantly disregard a bomb of such size and power.

“Is it possible whatever is shielding the house from contact with the matter on the planet surface is also shielding it from our instruments?” Commander O’Malley asked.

“What about that, Zony? Is it possible?”

“Aye.” The signals officer nodded. “There’s more, sir. Minstrel’s telemetry indicates multiple starship drive field residuals. They set course from the planet’s orbit to the Shasta jump gate.”

“Bearing?”

“Zero three four mark one hundred.”

“Time?”

“Hours ago.”

Hunter stood contemplating the options. All they had so far were questions. Without answers, or more accurately, without facts, there was no way to plan a course of action. All the firepower in the world, as many senior officers put it, was meaningless if it couldn’t be properly aimed. Knowing where and when to apply force was often far more important than the how and the why.

The vital fact of the matter from a command standpoint was really rather simple. Eight starships and their crews had been murdered by forces operating in unknown strength. Given the stellar-political situation in and around systems like Manassas, Core Seven and El Rey, it was easy to conclude every report of hostile action involved the Sarn Star Empire on some level, and likely also involved the Kraken Decarchy. But Jason Hunter was one of those captains who was guarded in his thinking about pat conclusions and lazy analysis. A clever opponent could take full advantage of that kind of hasty speculation to avoid being identified.

The other inescapable fact facing the young captain was that it was impossible to steal second base while touching first. Risk was going to be necessary if they were going to avoid the same fate as the San Cristobal and her task force.

“Doctor, I want a Tranquility corvette ready to launch as soon as possible. Coordinate with Commander Zyo and Valiant. We need a close range structural analysis and energy systems check of those destroyed ships. I want you there in case we find survivors.”

Zony kept quiet. She had already determined there were no survivors, but she also knew her captain wasn’t likely to accept the idea of losing eight starship crews without double and triple checks.

“Aye,” Commander Doverly replied. “Jets in twenty.”

“Very well. XO, order the Black Prince and the Los Angeles into defensive positions forward at optimum weapons range to the closest disabled vessel. Signals, set fleet-wide alert condition two and engage battle conference on emergency frequency.”

Zony hit the clear channel alarm. Every receiver in the fleet dropped its connection and switched to secure reception mode. The jangling sound of the alert tone continued for several seconds, then stopped.

“Attention all stations. Attention all stations. This is Argent force command on emergency channel. Engage battle conference on this frequency and stand by for a message from the flag.”

Over the next few seconds, all eight ships in Argent’s strike formation acknowledged via their data connections. Zony received the last confirmation and engaged her emergency transmitters and conn pickups.

“You’re on, captain.”

“This is Hunter aboard Argent. We have anomalous readings on the surface of planet number four, and we are dispatching search and rescue to perform a close analysis of each ship in the San Cristobal group. I am ordering the strike force to alert condition two. Stand by battle stations. Acknowledge readiness to my first officer. We will convene all Perseus captains aboard Black Prince immediately after the launch. Hunter out.”

The captain slammed the black handset back into its cradle in the overhead console. “Ladies and gentlemen. We’ve deployed the tools and the talent. Get me some answers. XO you have the conn.” Hunter made his way for the magneto-lifts.

Lieutenant McInerney made the announcement. “Captain off the bridge.”

Zony watched Jason slam the protective hatch between the lift and the bridge. If she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t want to stare at the wreckage either.