Derelict 3, Chapter 32.

Chapter 32.

Slater reviewed the information on the Gargonth that Hixrax had supplied. It was as collection of sensor logs and direct transmissions that took him some time to organize in a chronological order. The Gargonth had appeared unexpectedly, and the Chixturax took some time to organize a resistance. In an attempt to keep it from their colonies, ships were thrown at it piecemeal, allowing the monster to easily thwart their efforts. When they finally organized a sizeable force, the flaws in Chixturax ship design became apparent.

Their ships were large and well-armed but had been designed for too many different purposes. Fire control and point defense were poorly linked and the swarms of drones that the Gargonth launched, easily overcame the lightly armed shuttles that were sent to engage them, wiping them from the stars before overloading the point defenses of the ungainly Chixturax vessels. The Gargonth didn’t come out unscathed, though, but its injuries were easily healed by the horrible process of consuming the Chixturax on both their ships and the nearby inhabited planets.

One thing that Slater noticed was the time between jumps for the Gargonth seemed excessive. Even passing through undefended systems, it seemed the monster took days longer to complete its jump. Slater could safely assume the biological process used to jump the massive ship too time to complete. Like he had been told by the elders, the Chixturax made a final, desperate attempt to stop the Gargonth by boarding and attacking the monster from the inside.

Slater watched the fleet of Chixturax ships offer themselves as bait to lure away the drones, allowing hundreds of shuttles to descend upon the Gargonth. Over half were shot down by point defense, but the remainder attached to various points on the hull and cut their way inside. Once inside, the warrior forms of the Chixturax battled with strange growths and creatures, desperately seeking something important to destroy. They never found what they were looking for, if it even existed at all, but the footage did allow Slater to rule out what some of the strange organs inside the monster did.

The Chixturax warriors were powerful in melee and were also accurate with their laser rifles, but they couldn’t hold a candle to his MOBS. Their assault had only penetrated several decks into the Gargonth ship, none of the teams ever made it near the center of the ship where he assumed any vulnerable structures would be housed. With his ram, Slater was confident he could drive his forces deep into the ship before they could organize a proper defense. Despite his confidence, boarding the Gargonth would be a last resort, his preference would be to pummel it from a distance.

Between the keel gun and his main batteries, Slater would hopefully inflict fatal damage to the monster. Looking at how it fought also convinced him to have the new drone fleet he was designing focus on an air-to-air mission. They would be an extension of his already powerful point defense, which, along with his reinforced hull, should allow him to weather the drone swarm that had taken out the Chixturax. Getting multiple shots landed with the keel gun would be crucial, and to do that, he needed to give the Gargonth as little time as possible to react. A swarm of enemy drones around his ship could reveal to the monster each time his weapon was about to fire, allowing them to alter course and avoid the shot.

“Slater, you said we would need to work before playing games, what tasks do you have for us?” Kraxton said. The Chixturax looked like he would have trouble moving, let alone working given how much he had just eaten. Having the medpod repair their bodies used up a lot of energy, leaving the two famished. They had been hitting the food synthesizer non-stop, experimenting with various earth dishes that were edible to their kind. Bexlan was a fan of tacos, and Kraxton had developed quite the sweet tooth, indulging in far too many deserts with each meal, leaving Slater to wonder if he would have to cut the kid off at some point.

“First off, you need to know your way around the ship. Your first task is to explore until you know every nook and cranny of the Franklin. In a fight, there might not be anyone there to direct you. Once you’re done with that, Pixi will have the simulators setup to give you a crash course on crewing a starship,” Slater said. Kraxton groaned in pain, but followed his instructions without any backtalk, very much unlike their human counterparts.

The Chixturax helped keep Slater distracted in between research projects. It was fun to watch them learn as Pixi put them through their paces. They worked hard and also relished the time they had to play games, enjoying the various entertainments provided by the ship’s recreation center. Slater was able to get the rest of his systems online, and everything functioning properly before they jumped into their target system. Both times he had been in this system, he had encountered dragons. The Franklin was much more powerful now, but Slater still remembered the pain that the dragon fire had caused him. It had burned through his reinforced hull like it was nothing, an experience he had no desire to repeat.

“Jump complete, sensors coming online, no threats on the board,” Bexlan said. She was going through a bridge training rotation, and it was a good time to test what she had learned.

“Kraxton, begin a scan for any locator beacons, Pixi can give you the frequency my escape pods used,” Slater ordered. He doubted the homing beacons were still working after a hundred years, but it was entirely possible.

“I’ve got a hit, there is a response to our signal inquiry at the following coordinates. Looks like our pair of privates landed on a small moon orbiting the second planet from the sun,” Kraxton advised.

Slater had programmed their life pod AI to take them to a safe landing spot that would allow access to a lot of sunlight, which should be able to power the pods indefinitely. He tried not to get his hopes up, even if Harris and Long were inside the pods, a hundred years was a long time to be in suspended animation. Slater was confident in his programming and the life pods he had created for them, but there were too many variables in for him to account for. A stray piece of space debris from the battle, or a rough landing could have caused a breach in the pod, leaking the atmosphere and killing his friends.

There was little gravity on the moon, which enabled Slater to get in close with the Franklin and drop a pair of construction drones down to check out the pods. It took a bit to develop a small thruster that would allow the drones to jump back to the Franklin once they were done with their inspections. Hopefully, they would be jumping back with both his crewmen.

“Getting visual now, sir. The drone is close enough to connect to the pod controls,” Bexlan said. The two kids could tell that this was important to Slater and they were concentrating on the task as hard as they could.

Slater looked on, feeling his heart sink as the pods came into view. Both were open and there was no sign of the two privates. From the accumulated dust inside both pods, whatever had opened the pods had done so long ago. Through the connection with the drones, Slater could read the logs on each of the devices. Approximately forty years ago, proximity alerts triggered on both pods. Shortly thereafter, the wake cycle activated. What happened next was a mystery, but long ago, both privates were alive and able to be awakened. Where they had gone was a mystery.

He had the drones canvass the area around the pods, concentrating on the distance the two could have walked under their own power before their life support ran out. Hours passed, and they found nothing. Slater didn’t know what to do, what to think. Forty years ago, they left their pods, but where did they go? Did someone else come and take them? It would have been almost better to have found their corpses than to think one of the other races had captured them. From what Slater had seen, the other races were none too kind with humans they captures. With forty years passing since the pods open, and not sign of Harris and Long, there was little Slater could do. To stay longer would only let the Gargonth get that much closer to Earth.

“Have the drones retrieve the pods and return, we can use the salvage,” Slater ordered flatly.

“I’m sorry Slater, I know they were important to you,” Bexlan offered.

“Thank you, set a course for jump point three, that will lead us toward home,” Slater replied, not wanting to get into a discussion just yet. Sadness and a sense of loss warred with his innate Derelict lack of care for others. The pain of loss was good in a way, it meant he was still human after all this time, didn’t it?

Over the next few days, they made their way toward human space. The region was devoid of traffic given the humans contentious history with the other races. Slater used the time he had well, continuing development on his drones. Second and third rounds of research were completed on the overall design, giving him a functional attack craft, geared toward space superiority. The drones would carry a pair of missiles that were suitable against larger incoming missiles or enemy drones. As far as weapons went, Slater had a pair of scaled down point defense railguns that gave his drones more punch than a similar Gargonth drone.

Saving space from not having to power and install a shield generator on the drones allowed for more armor over critical systems as well as expanded ammo capacity for the railguns. The AI controlling his drones was good, able to use the best conventional tactics available given the situation. While they weren’t his MOBS, the drones would follow orders that Slater gave. Like other ships, a direct link could be established with any of his drones at any time. He could send updated orders through the link which would then be spread throughout the fleet.

Range was still an issue; the drones had limited flight time that was based on how much of a charge their reactors had stored. Slater was working on new micro reactor designs but didn’t know if they would be ready by the time that he entered the fight. The pier that had been attached to the side of the Franklin was long gone, consumed, and processed into salvage that he used to finish out the ship, build his first fleet of drones, and fill up the missile batteries.

Tests of all his various systems allowed for some final fine-tuning, but so far, everything was working as he designed it to. Another test fire of the keel gun gave him the basis for some efficiency upgrades, but the amount of salvage that each shot consumed was too great for him to do any additional tests. A few point defense and secondary batteries were repositioned, a time-consuming process but one that left him optimal coverage against the drone attacks he expected to face.

Bexlan and Krixnas both worked hard to learn the ship systems, their work ethic was strong despite their desire to play games any chance they got. He was finally nearing human space and according to his charts, the next jump would put him on the outskirts of the SAC controlled systems. Three jumps later he would finally find himself back home, back to Earth after so long. Anticipation built as his jump drives activated, finally taking him to human space.

Entering the new system, Slater watched as his sensors began to feed data to him. It didn’t take long to resolve that he was approaching a pair of defense stations positioned to guard the jump point. A flotilla of five small ships moved into position to support the stations. His readings classified them as human designed gunboats. The ships were popular and despite being only three quarters the size of frigate, they packed nearly the same punch. They had limited speed and didn’t carry a jump drive, which left them dependent on heavy transport craft to jump them in and out of a system.

“Approaching vessel, this is the South America Coalition defense base S-121. You have violated our territory, identify yourself or you will be fired upon,” the station transmitted.

“Hey, it looks like we’re not getting a big welcome home party,” Pixi said.

“We are a little late, and the ship looks nothing like the old Franklin,” Slater replied before answering the hail.

“SAC base S-121, this is Commodore Slater of the USS Franklinrequesting safe passage through your system,” Slater said.

“Hold position Franklin, I see no ship of your type in our database,” the station replied.

“You’d have to look further back if you want to find us, we’re about a hundred years late in making it home,” Slater said. There was a long pause as they waited for a reply. The defense stations and gunboats wouldn’t be all that much of threat to his Derelict, but Slater wanted no part of fighting with humans, so he kept all his weapons powered down.

“Franklin, we’re sending a boarding party to confirm your identity, keep your weapons powered down,” the station advised.

“Acknowledged, I’ll light up the docking hatch for you,” Slater replied. It took them some time to put their boarding party together, but eventually a large shuttlecraft was seen leaving the station.

Slater didn’t know if he should let them know exactly what he was, but for now, he had all the various cyborg crew, and the Chixturax kids kept out of sight. The shuttle docked and a team of SAC marines charged out, weapons at the ready. From the way they moved, Slater could tell they knew what they were doing. Seeing the coast was clear, a pair of officers exited the craft, one quite elderly who needed a cane to walk.

“I can speak with you anywhere you like, but you’re welcome to take a tour of the ship. I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me,” Slater said over the intercom.

“Perhaps a private conversation between the two of us, if you have a location that isn’t too far away. My legs don’t work quite as well as they did in my youth, the elderly man said. Slater opened the nearest compartment that was setup as a bunk area. The old man hobbled over, escorted by a pair of marines who he ordered to stay outside. Closing the hatch, the old man sat down on a bunk with grunt catching his breath before speaking again.

“You don’t know me, but if you are who you say you are, you knew my father,” the elderly man replied.

“Who was your father?” Slater asked.

“Julio Guzman was my father, I’m Patricio Guzman, a semi-retired captain in the SAC navy. If you truly are Slater, tell me something about how you met my father,” the elderly officer asked.

“If your father was the same Captain Guzman I’m thinking of, I met him just about where your standing, except the Franklin looked a lot different then. We had liberated him and some of his crew from their gnomish captors and I think he had even more reservations about believing who I was than you do,” Slater answered.

“It is said that of those you rescued, Diaz was the one you got along with best and that in the short time you knew each other, you quickly became the closest of friends. Do you still think fondly back on the ones that you rescued?” Guzman asked.

“I think fondly on all of them except for Diaz and his cronies, they tried to kill me, and a good friend died to save me that day,” Slater snapped back, not too happy to be reminded of the traitor.

“Good, I begin to believe you are who you say you are. The treachery that happened aboard your ship so long ago wasn’t mentioned when the survivors returned. It would have dishonored the man’s name, something he truly deserved, but there was his children to consider, one has even become a promising young officer. My father and the others didn’t want to see the entire family name tarnished based on something done in a time of distress. Nobody would have known actually transpired, save for the rest of the crew and yourself,” Guzman said.

“I understand why your father did what he did, and even though I hated Diaz, I wouldn’t want to wish ill upon his family,” Slater replied.

“When your call came in, and this ship appeared on our scanners, I couldn’t believe it. I suppose I still don’t believe it; we were told your ship was lost in the battle against the Council forces,” Guzman said.

“That was very nearly the case, I destroyed my ship when I could no longer hold back the attackers, but I survived somehow. I was damaged and it took me some time to come back to my senses. Now, I hear the Gargonth is threatening Earth, and I intend to stop it,” Slater said.

“Yes, we should all be focusing on the true threat, instead our leaders refuse to send more than a token force to defeat the creature, leaving our fleet to protect against the Russians, who also kept their fleet in home space to protect themselves from us. It’s madness, but it’s a madness I have no control over,” Guzman said.

“Will you grant me safe passage through SAC space?” Slater asked. As much as he would like to spend hours talking with Guzman, the son of a man he liked and admired, the danger to Earth grew with each hour that passed.

“One final request, I want to see your core. My father told me he thought you were just someone hiding away somewhere on the ship, at least until he saw your core for the first time. He said he could feel it was you, a person, inside the swirling light. Show me your core and I will do what I can to speed your passage,” Guzman promised.

“I can agree to that, may I provide transport for you? It’s a long way to my core from here. You may take your marines with you if you like,” Slater offered.

“That would be appreciated. I’m too old to be playing officer anymore but having me oversee the defense of this backwater system let the admiralty free up a younger officer for the coming fight,” Guzman said.

“If you’re at all like your father, I don’t think a younger officer could have any more fight than you. Now, my crew are not exactly human, so please have your men safe their weapons and not freak out when your transport gets here,” Slater said. Guzman agreed, and despite the warning, the marines went for the weapons as a gnomech walked down the passageway to give the elderly Guzman a lift.

“Hold, it is under my control and not a threat to you,” Slater shouted through the intercom system. A frantically waving Captain Guzman got the marines to stand down as he clambered aboard the gnomech and made his way down to the core room, a squad of marines trotting along behind him.

“The last I heard, you were occupying a battlecruiser, this, well, this is something else entirely,” Guzman said, marveling at his view of the Franklin from the inside. The marines marveled as well, but Slater could see them noting the defensive emplacements and automated weapons liberally strewn about the ship. For now, he kept the rest of his MOBS away, not wanting to make the already jumpy marines any jumpier.

“I’ve been upgrading. After seeing what the Gargonth is capable of, I wish I could have made the ship even larger. Ah, here we are, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Captain Guzman,” Slater said as they entered the core room. The old man gazed into swirling light of Slater’s core. Slater didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, the man must have found it.

“Now, I truly believe you are the Commodore Slater, the man who is the hero of nearly every human world. You gave us the tools to defeat the council and it is an honor to meet you,” Guzman said, saluting the core, causing Slater to choke up a bit at the display of respect the man was showing him.

“I apologize that I can’t return the salute, Captain Guzman, but I am honored by your display,” Slater said.

“Good, I think we have much to discuss before I call the admiralty. I think your return just might be the jolt we need to bring my reluctant nation’s navy fully into the fight against the Gargonth,” Guzman said. Slater hoped they would agree to join him, he would need all the help he could get, but could they assemble their fleet in time?