Balance of Power

By Kenneth McDonald

In this thrilling conclusion to the “Refugees of the Crucible” trilogy, planetary exploration and space battles combine in a deadly race against time to stop a nearly invincible intruder from another galaxy. For centuries, the descendants of a lost human colony ship lived on the icy world Crucible, the unwitting subjects of an alien AI’s research project. Led by spacer Kevan “Mac” McDougal, the colonists finally managed to defeat first the AI and then a spawnship of the insectoid K’rakk interested in stealing its technology. With their connection to the greater universe restored, Mac and Lessa McDougal have left their former prison behind them and relocated to Epsilon Station. But when a massive alien ship equipped with the same power-dampening technology enters the galaxy and starts destroying the fleets and colonies of the League of Allied Systems, the McDougals must join a desperate effort to uncover the secrets left hidden on Crucible before it is too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Feb 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311706997

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The League scout Dauntless seemed to spring into being as it emerged from folded space. The ship was a long cylinder generously festooned with pods and other augments, some of which glowed briefly as the leftover energies of the Fordham Drive were dissipated. Behind the ship spread the glorious spiral of the Milky Way, while ahead was a mostly black expanse, dotted here and there with the scattered stars of the Outer Arm and with the more distant specks of other galaxies that made the Dauntless’s current neighborhood seem cozy by contrast.

Most of the ship’s interior was taken up by its engines and supporting systems. Its bridge was a relatively crowded compartment along its forward curve, with space for the skipper’s chair and three control consoles facing an armored duraplas port overlaid with various informational screens.

Command Lieutenant Inez Martinez adjusted herself in her seat, reflexively checking each of the ship’s systems on the indicator board build into the arm of the chair. Each member of the bridge crew was making similar adjustments at their stations. Transitioning to and from fold created a certain strain on the human body, which was why the overwhelming majority of interstellar passengers experienced it in the softer clutches of augSleep. But for the crew of a deep-space scout the strain of moving in and out of fold was just one of the challenges that came with the job.

Scans, report, Martinez said, her voice scratching a bit but otherwise collected.

The young man working at the station was having some difficulty. From her seat Martinez could see that the problem wasn’t just the effects of fold-transition; something weird was going on with his displays. She allowed him a count of five then barked, Ensign Wilson.

The young man shot a quick glance at her before turning back to his console. I’m sorry, Command. I’m getting… some anomalous readings here.

"Well, that’s why we call it an anomaly, she said dryly, drawing a chuckle from the other bridge crew. Bearing to the contact we picked up in fold?"

That question took Wilson only a second. One six two mark four seven.

Distance?

That… that’s what I’m having some trouble with. I can’t get a read on its speed, either.

Interference? Ensign Zhang asked. She looked like a child in her seat, but her hands danced over her console without pause, collecting updates on every individual component in the ship’s thousand-plus subsystems. Most Systems operators just ran with a summary overlay that would send an alert if something developed on a lower layer, but Zhang’s holo display looked a bit like one was staring into a chasm, with a web of glowing lines extending into near-infinity.

I… I don’t know, Wilson said. Possible gravimetric distortions radiating from the object.

"So it is an object," Martinez asked.

Yes, ma’am. I believe so.

She activated a control on her chair. Engineering.

The response was instantaneous. Harris here.

We’ve picked up the anomaly. You still reading it down there?

Yes, Command. The gravimetric shear in the fold coil is still present, he replied.

Anything to give us any trouble?

No, ma’am. Everything is well within tolerances.

We can still fold?

Yes. But if you’re planning on getting closer, I would recommend a gradual approach.

Acknowledged. Zhang, you’re monitoring the fold settings?

Yes, Command.

Keep a close eye on things, Harris. We might need to fold quickly.

Aye, aye, Command.

She flicked off the comm and tapped the ridge of the control panel with her fingers.

Systems, ready a Class Four probe. Helm, lay in an intercept course. As Ensign Davis started to turn in his chair she quickly added, I know the difficulty, Ensign. For the moment just close on the current bearing. Wilson, I want…

But she didn’t get a chance to finish, as the Sensors officer blurted, Command!

She didn’t need to ask what the problem was. She could see it through the viewport, a massive body that filled the screen. It was huge, looming over them like a mountain, looking almost like they could reach out and touch it through the clear duraplas panel. It had the look of a natural body at first glance, lacking the clean lines of symmetry that characterized a League starship. But Martinez could make out the outlines of more regular shapes encrusted on the giant rock. They looked like crystals, and as she stared at them the Command Lieutenant felt a hard clenching at her insides, a cold spike of fear.

Her crewmates had been similarly affected, and they stared in stunned silence for the second or two it took the ship’s commander to regain control. Report! Martinez ordered. Did it just fold?

Wilson tore his head from the viewport and scanned his display. No! I mean, I’m not reading any fold traces… But the gravimetric shear is off the scale!

Helm! Get us out of here! she said.

Davis hardly needed the urging, but even as he inputted commands the ship shuddered. Systems! she said. Was that an attack?

Zhang’s hands were dancing over her console, and Martinez didn’t need to look down at her own display to see the status alarms that echoed the ones flashing all over the ensign’s control array. Command, I’m showing power drains across all systems! she reported.

Main engines are off-line! Davis echoed.

Reroute primary systems through the fold coil, Martinez said. Helm, try to access the thrusters through the secondary control array.

Aye, Davis said, but the look on his face said he’d already been trying a variety of solutions without success.

Weapons?

Off-line, Zhang said.

Can we get off a torpedo?

Even if we could fire it, I suspect it would be affected by the drain just like us, Zhang said. And she didn’t add what Martinez was also thinking, that it was unlikely that any weapon they had could do much to a ship that size, even if they could manage to get their weapons functioning.

She tapped her command console. Harris! I need engines!

A hiss of static came out instead of the expected response, but it faded enough for her to make out the chief engineer’s voice. Command, I don’t have them. Whatever’s got us, it’s draining power faster than the engines can put it out.

What about an emergency fold?

No chance, Command. With these gravimetric distortions we’d never be able to maintain a stable field in the coil.

Martinez clutched at the arms of her chair, trying to keep her arms from shaking. Communications, she said. When she didn’t get a response she said, Wilson!

The young officer jolted as if she’d struck him. Uh… aye, Command. Comms… Zhang’s rerouted the array through the fold coil… I have comms.

Prepare a distress signal. Get everything we have, everything sensors picked up since we first detected the anomaly, embed it in the burst. Send it out, as many repeats as you can manage. Got that?

Aye… aye, Command!

Helm, any luck with those thrusters?

Negative, Command. I have no control.

Systems? How long until we lose power?

Zhang turned to look at her, suggesting she’d been expecting the question. I estimate we will lose remaining systems in two minutes, including gravity and life support.

That announcement brought a moment of silence to the bridge, the only sound the tap of Wilson’s fingers on his console. But a moment later the display that provided the data coming in from the ship’s sensor arrays flashed, and he cried, Command! I’m reading a power buildup from the alien ship!

Zhang turned back to her console at once. Confirmed. Gravimetric forces are increasing exponentially.

What kind of… Martinez began, but she was cut off again by another shudder that passed through the ship. This one was more violent than the first, accompanied by a long terrible sound as durasteel gave way. Indicators flashed on the various consoles at each station, a last gasp before the entire system went dark. The only thing left were the emergency lights, which glowed dully in their recessed sockets around the perimeter of the bridge.

Multiple hull breaches! Zhang said, reporting the last thing she’d seen before she’d lost her console, but Martinez already knew that. She had felt the blow dealt to her ship as though the knife had been thrust into her own body. She started to get up, started to issue an order, but didn’t get a chance to do either as a huge invisible hand caught her up and launched her across the room. She caromed off the starboard bulkhead, the impact driving a hard jolt of pain through her skull. She fell into a blackness as deep as the vastness of space, perhaps a mercy as she was spared the final death throes of her ship.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

The room was on fire. The heat seared his skin, and the smoke was so thick that he couldn’t see more than a meter or two in front of him. But he didn’t need to see to know that the bugs were there. He could hear them, could feel their movements as they tore through the outer walls of the building. They would reach him soon enough, if the entire place didn’t collapse on him first. He knew he had to escape, to find a way out of there, but everywhere he turned there was only fire and smoke.

A loud, insistent buzzing filled his senses, overpowering the noise of the fire and the crashing of the K’rakk drones as they smashed through stone and wood. The noise distracted him, pulling him away from the chaos that threatened to overwhelm him…

Mac started awake, gasping in a deep breath as he rose up out of the bed. He blinked and looked around. The chrono by the wall viewer said that it was morning, if still early. There was an empty space beside him in the bed. Lessa had an early class. The memory helped him push away the lingering vestiges of his nightmare. That and the buzzing, which had continued as he’d made the transition back to wakefulness.

Coming, he said. I’m coming. Just give me a sec.

The buzzing stopped at once, but he could feel the presence waiting as he got up and trudged over to the bath station. He splashed some water on his face but avoided looking at the mirror. He knew what he would see. The nightmares always left their mark. They weren’t that common any more—the League psych techs knew their business—but a doozy like the one he’d just escaped would still creep up on him from time to time. They were old companions, those dreams. It was just his luck that just as he’d finally started to get over the violent demise of the Helios he’d experienced another trauma rooted in fire and destruction.

He grabbed a clean shirt from the closet and pulled it on over his lean frame. He would have preferred a few minutes to shower, shave, and pump some coffee into his body, but the silence pressed him almost as intently as the buzzer had before.

He trudged in bare feet across the front room to the door that accessed the main corridor outside. The residence unit that he and Lessa shared was a bit cramped but neat, evocative of the ship’s quarters where Mac had spent much of his adult life. He was about to open the door when he hesitated. He tapped the panel next to it instead, and an image appeared.

There were two guests waiting. He didn’t recognize either of them, but one was obviously a League marine, dressed in the neat station uniform of a corporal. He was wearing his sidearm, Mac noted. The other was only a little older, maybe in his mid- to late-twenties, dressed in a neat suit of deep blue material with a League blazon embossed upon the collar. The two of them were waiting more or less patiently, without speaking to each other, though the man in the blue suit was tapping his right foot slowly.

Mac tapped the release and the door slid open. The man in the blue suit straightened. Captain McDougal?

Mac didn’t bother correcting him, though it had been almost three years since he’d last commanded an interstellar ship, and that a lowly bulk freighter. But he had already guessed that this man knew who he was and that the honorific was just a polite acknowledgement. So he just said, Yes?

I’m sorry to interrupt your rest so early, the man went on. I’m Doctor Beresi, Alan Beresi, Planetary Science Division. This is Corporal Rubio of the League Marines. The young soldier’s features might have been carved from marble for all he reacted to the introduction. He’d positioned himself so he could clearly scan both the interior of the residential unit and the length of the adjacent corridor, Mac noted.

I take it this isn’t a social visit, Mac said, with a nod toward the soldier.

I’m afraid not, Beresi said. I’ve been sent to bring you to Command. We’ll wait while you get ready, if that’s okay.

Sure, Mac said, stepping back to let them in. What’s this about? But he already had a pretty good idea.

I can’t go into it here, Beresi said. But it involves our old friends from the Crucible.

"Our old old friends?" Mac asked.

Beresi nodded, grasping the meaning in the cryptic question at once. He glanced at Rubio as if securing his permission to answer. They’re back, he said.

* * *

The station’s corridors were almost deserted as Mac and his escorts made their way to the central spire containing the high-speed elevators that connected its fifty-seven levels. Epsilon Station never really slept, but the majority of its ten thousand permanent residents operated according to a standard day-night cycle that roughly paralleled Earth’s. They passed a few cleaning drones that slid aside to make way for them, and an engineering crew that didn’t even look up from the conduit they were working on.

The three walked in silence. Beresi hadn’t been willing to volunteer anything else while he’d waited for Mac to get ready, and Rubio had yet to venture even a single word. Mac felt an itch between his shoulder blades at the corporal’s presence in his shadow; just him being there was awakening old instincts Mac had thought he’d left behind on Crucible.

There was more activity around the transportation conduits that permeated the central hub of the station, but they didn’t need to wait for a vacant elevator. Beresi took them off to the side, where a flash of his mobile unit against the control pad summoned an express car that had obviously been waiting for them to arrive. The three stepped inside. As soon as the doors were shut the car shot upward. Mac could feel the momentum even through the grav field, and guessed that they were traveling pretty fast. He didn’t have time for even a rough calculation before the car stopped and the doors snapped open.

If the residential level had been sleepy, Command was a chaotic beehive of activity. At least three dozen League techs were at work in the spiral pit of consoles and workstations that filled the interior of the space. The far wall of the chamber was a long curve, covered in a blinding array of two- and three-dimensional displays that presented such a barrage of data that it was almost overwhelming even from across the room. A low din filled the room despite the dampening fields that surrounded the communications stations.

This way, sir.

Mac turned and blinked in surprise; the voice had been a new one, and he realized it had come from Rubio, the first words he’d spoken since their introduction. Beresi had gone on ahead and was waiting for them in an open doorway on the far side of the room.

He followed the two of them, the din of the command center falling behind them as they moved into a hall that followed the curve of the station’s outer wall. It culminated in another door, this one closed and flanked by a pair of sentries armed with slung blast rifles. Beresi showed them some kind of pass and they opened the door for him.

The room beyond was a conference chamber, its dominant feature a pair of large duraplas windows that showed the arc of the station extending out below them. But Mac’s attention was drawn instead to the group of luminaries gathered around the central table. He recognized Commander Duvries, though he’d only met the station chief once and briefly, shortly after his first arrival four months ago. He was flanked by a tall adjutant who looked like his spine might snap if he stood any straighter, and a middle-aged woman with a tightly-bound mop of curly black hair who had the familiar bars of a League ship commander on her collar. It looked like she’d been talking with Duvries when they came in, but she broke off and regarded the new arrivals with a weighing look.

On the other side of the table there was a slight woman who looked to be in her fifties, her white coat setting off the olive tint to her skin. She was arguing with a dark-skinned man in the uniform of a Marine captain who looked like he’d been sculpted out of ebony by one of the ancient Greek artists who had idealized the human form. His eyes flicked over at Mac and Beresi as they came in. If the League officer’s look had been considering, Mac felt like the captain’s was measuring him down to his soul.

There were others around the fringes of the room, including a couple of techs who were setting up a portable holo emitter at the far end of the table, but before he could consider that more closely a faint whirring noise drew his attention to the right, to the small hospitality station that was built into the wall near the corner. A wizened figure of a man was turning around, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand.

Mac started with surprise. He recognized the man even before he saw the stars on his uniform, slightly rumpled under the exo suit he wore. It was a military-issue suit, Mac noted, a bit more cumbersome and bulky than it needed to be. Its actuators hummed slightly as he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped.

Ah, Mister McDougal. Thank you for joining us, he said.

Of course, Admiral, Mac said. He wouldn’t have minded some coffee himself; his mouth felt suddenly dry. Admiral Samuel Akele was one of the most famous men in the League of Allied Systems, the only League officer with three League Clusters, won in three separate wars. The man had to be over a hundred years old now, but despite the exo suit and the fact that he barely came to Mac’s shoulder he still somehow was able to dominate the room. Shall we begin? he said. Akele gestured Mac and Beresi forward to the table. The holo techs finished their work and hurried out; Corporal Rubio lingered long enough to hold the door open for them and then left, closing it behind him. It made only a slight sound but Mac imagined it as a notable clang, with the clatter of bolts being slammed shut.

Akele moved with deliberation and was the last to take his seat. Only Duvries’s adjutant remained standing, tapping commands into a remote that was obviously queuing up the holo projector. The windows darkened and became opaque, and the lights dimmed slightly.

Mister McDougal, what we speak about here is to remain completely confidential, Akele said.

I understand, Admiral.

Good. I believe you already know Commander Duvries. This is Commander Alexiadi, Doctor Mangayao, and Captain Jackson, he said, indicating the League officer, the woman in the white coat, and the Marine respectively. They each acknowledged him with a nod but said nothing more, obviously deferring to the admiral. Mac got the impression that everyone in the room already knew what was going on and that his arrival had interrupted an ongoing debate.

So what’s happened? Mac asked.

Alexiadi took over the narration. "Sixteen days ago, we lost one of our deep-space scouts, the Dauntless." A three-dimensional projection of a ship appeared hovering over the center of the conference table. Mac had to take a steadying breath; the ship was almost identical to the Helios, though a second glance noted differences in configuration for its specific mission. The ship shrank into a star map. It was on a scout of the Perseus Arm when it encountered an anomaly. Indicators appeared in the display, telling a story that Mac already suspected he knew. "The Dauntless was destroyed, Alexiadi said. But it got out a signal, which was eventually picked up by its pairship, the Sorrento. The Dauntless managed to embed some of its sensor data into its last signal."

The image appeared almost as if the alien ship was floating there in the room. Mac recognized it at once. The uneven bulk of the ship resembled an asteroid or irregular planetoid, but the crystal formations that jutted from it were like sharp knives, probing memories that were no less intense for being several years old.

Familiar, yes? Akele’s gravelly voice asked.

Yes, Mac said.

"The Dauntless was caught in a gravitic anomaly that parallels the dampening field you experienced on the second planet in System J-57321," Alexiadi said.

Why… why did they let it get so close? Mac asked.

According to the sensor logs, the ship just suddenly appeared, right on top of them, Doctor Mangayao said. Alexiadi nodded to Duvries’s adjutant, and the man adjusted the display so Mac could see it. The message hadn’t incorporated a recording of what the crew of the Dauntless had said or done during the event, but Mac could imagine it, the initial surprise followed by a realization of the trap they’d been caught in.

Did the alien ship fold? he asked.

The VIPs around the table shared a look at that question, and Mac realized he’d inadvertently touched on something important. We have no indication that they have Fordham technology, Alexiadi said. "Neither the Dauntless nor any of the subsequent contacts picked up any traces of a coil field."

Show the course plot, Akele said.

The display returned to the star map, zooming out to show a broader expanse of space. Our contacts with the unidentified vessel have been sporadic since the initial encounter, Alexiadi said. A series of red dots appeared on the map, connected by faint red lines. Indicators showing dates and the names of the ships that had established the contacts popped into existence around the dots, and Mac reflexively absorbed the information.

They have FTL travel, Mac said. Some sort of alternative space-compression technology?

We haven’t picked up any indicators of anything like that, Alexiadi said. No evidence of an artificial wormhole, or some other kind of spatial perforation.

I’m no scientist, Captain Jackson said. But I thought traveling faster than light in realspace was supposed to be impossible.

I think that we will have to redefine that word when dealing with this species, Mangayao said.

We don’t even know if there are sentient beings on that ship, Duvries said. It may just be another AI.

There are different kinds of sentience, Mangayao said. An AI as advanced as the one that Mister McDougal encountered on Crucible may be indistinguishable from the advanced organic species we have found in our galaxy.

We are getting a bit ahead of ourselves, Akele said, redirecting the budding debate before it could take over the briefing. He looked at Mac, as if expecting him to take over the discussion.

Where’s it headed? Mac asked.

Akele nodded, as if that was the question he’d expected. At a gesture the star map shifted again, until Mac could make out the familiar features of the Milky Way. The object’s course has been erratic, he said. But as you can see, the ship is headed more or less directly toward the core of the League. Possible paths include dozens of settled worlds and starbases, including this one. And Earth.

The Fleet… Mac began, but he trailed off before he could complete the thought.

Akele nodded again as if he’d understood the unspoken question. "There have already been a few more engagements, though nothing decisive yet. League Command is working on a more organized response, but that is not