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Deep Time
Ian Douglas
The sixth book in this action-packed, New York Times bestselling science fiction series - STAR CARRIER.The clock is ticking in the struggle for galactic independenceOnce rebels themselves facing off against the Earth Confederation, the United States of North America is now the dominant force in negotiations with the interstellar Sh'daar Collective. But just as the Marines root out the last violent dissenters, an alien ship of unknown origin suddenly flees Earth's orbit. Is it mere coincidence . . . or a terrifying omen?President Alexander Koenig watches with great interest as USNA forces chase the runaways down. But upon first contact, it's not apparent where—or when—the crew is headed. For this bizarre species has somehow mastered the power to manipulate time itself. Now Koenig must decide whether he's dealing with angels of astonishing technological prowess . . . or the agents of humanity's destruction.
Only too aware, now, of the deadliness of his deceptively quiet surroundings …
… Gregory stood up.
Despite being insulated by the surrounding vacuum, he could feel his shipboard utilities—which with helmet and gloves doubled as an emergency environmental suit—stiffening around him, could feel the cold as though it literally were seeping in.
Impossible, of course. Heat was escaping his body, not cold seeping in, but that was what it undeniably felt like. His feet … he couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and his legs were starting to burn.
He felt oddly tranquil, despite the pain, despite the sudden realization that he may have just made a serious mistake. The landscape was serene, dark, utterly silent. It would have been easy to step out of the ruin of his Starblade and onto that flat, rock-strewn plain. That step, he knew, would have been lethal.
He also felt heavy. The planet’s gravity was dragging at him with almost twice the pull of home. But he managed to stand up straight … and raise his arms.
Overhead, St. Clair’s fighter descended like an unfolding blanket … the alien robots encircling it at a range of thirty meters. The blackness descended on him, scooped him up, folded him in …
And Gregory screamed with pain.
Copyright (#ulink_6bc775bc-aa9b-5f86-94aa-6578babfd7b3)
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk (http://www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2015
Copyright © William H. Keith, Jr 2015
Jacket layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover art by Gregory Bridges
William H. Keith, Jr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007483792
Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780007483839
Version: 2015-04-23
Dedication (#ulink_26a1acb1-4cae-5f77-9990-1cce5a5415d5)
For Deb, and, as ever, for Brea
Contents
Cover (#u7fa72bf2-c202-53c1-9ed3-977e3e6d29eb)
Title Page (#u96418869-7757-5273-8918-ba5d4dc70b20)
Copyright (#ub58be343-9fc0-5d53-8103-c0de3de7662c)
Dedication (#u872ae91a-7ceb-56fe-92b7-8779312ba44a)
Prologue (#u4bffba9b-a11b-53d4-83e3-af639f724756)
Chapter One (#uea6e3208-af83-5b7e-a237-58888f610497)
Chapter Two (#u7f50c53e-53d6-5767-ae55-ddf5d985bf00)
Chapter Three (#ue3796203-d413-53fc-a4b9-c690ce28cadf)
Chapter Four (#ub3b2c815-1c7d-5fdf-8ae0-fca6a3009456)
Chapter Five (#u5e5aa260-c6bb-5afe-b5b1-cc76776fde28)
Chapter Six (#uf41521e6-e9b7-5516-9ae8-3e06167d9a7a)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
By Ian Douglas (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_466a4ac8-894d-5494-81cf-c54c77a466fd)
“What the hell is that?”
“Dunno, Control,” replied the voice from Kapteyn Orbital. “It … it just popped up on our screens out of nowhere. It’s coming in fast … almost a half c. It’s—”
Commander Gerwin Dressler flinched as the projected holoscreen floating above his workstation lit up with an intense blue-white light. Something had just slammed into the research platform orbiting the local star at half the speed of light, converting five thousand tons of metal, ceramics, plastic, and organic crew members into a rapidly expanding cloud of hot plasma.
The base AI was saying that the object was in fact a diffuse cloud of particles, a cloud many astronomical units across and massing trillions of tons. There was other stuff in there, too, though … enigmatic structures, half-glimpsed constructions, things large and inexplicable shrouded within the particulate cloud.
And that cloud would be reaching Heimdall in seconds.
With a thoughtclick, Dressler sounded the base alarm.
“What is it?” the voice of Captain Roessler said in his head. He sounded groggy; it might be high noon local time, but by the base clocks, set to Greenwich Mean Time and measuring days and nights convenient to human biology, it was the wee hours of the morning.
“We’ve just lost Kapteyn Orbital, sir,” Dressler replied. “Here’s the data …”
“The Americans?”
“No, sir. Something … something else.”
Something very else.
He waited as the station’s commanding officer reviewed the scant data transmitted from the orbital. God, the sky outside was so beautiful …
The dome housing the base command and control center was set to project the view outside at the moment, showing a sky—deep blue to brilliant violet—dominated by the immense curve of the gas giant, Bifrost. Kapteyn’s Star, an M1.5 red dwarf less than a third the mass and radius of Sol, shone almost directly overhead. At a distance of 3.5 AUs, Kapteyn’s Star was shrunken to little more than a bright red pinpoint. Sharp eyes could distinguish its disk, but the much closer gas giant commanded the eastern sky at the moment, currently at half phase. The bands and swirls of pale brown, salmon, and white sweeping up from the glaciers on Heimdall’s horizon to the curve of Bifrost’s limb were clearly visible. Phantasmagorical aurorae circled the gas giant’s poles to either side and were answered by the dancing curtains of light across Heimdall’s northern sky.
Heimdall was a moon of Bifrost, circling its mammoth primary at a distance of just over 600,000 kilometers once every three days. Tidal interactions with the giant warmed Heimdall’s surface far more than did the wan and feeble sun.
God, he thought again. He could see the flare marking the death of Kapteyn Orbital with his unaided eye, a smear of white light bisected by the rim of Bifrost’s horizon. Automatically, he plotted the explosion’s position against the background stars, and the result chilled him.
“Whatever it is, Captain,” he told Roessler, “it’s coming in more or less on a vector from Omega Centauri.”
The research station’s personnel had been briefed, of course, on events out at the giant globular star cluster, the site of the enigmatic rosette of fast-circling black holes … and the Rosette Aliens. Not that it had done them much good.
The curve of Bifrost’s limb abruptly flared with blue and violet light … a rippling effect scattering out through the gas giant’s atmosphere. The aurorae at both poles brightened suddenly, then spread, engulfing the huge gas giant in seething flashes and pulses of auroral light.
“Are you sure it’s not the Americans?” Roessler demanded. “Some sort of high-velocity mass impact weapon …”
The USNA forces were notorious for their tactic of using clouds of sand released into space with speeds close to that of light. But Dressler was watching the cloud of minute particles spilling now across Bifrost’s horizon and the titanic half-glimpsed shapes behind the planet. Some of those shapes were bigger than Bifrost, measuring millions—even tens of millions—of kilometers across.
“I’m sure, sir.”
“But—”
“It’s not the Americans, sir. And yes, sir, I’m very sure.”
He checked on the position of the Confederation starships in orbit over Heimdall. One was currently above the antipodes, blocked from the alien cloud by the bulk of Heimdall itself.
“I suggest, sir,” he added, “that we dispatch the Kalmar back to Earth with a complete update.”
If, he thought, there was still time …
Chapter One (#ulink_d8e38675-afe9-5ecc-9874-df04e94b0d83)
29 June, 2425
Marine 1/5
Fort Douaumont
France, European Union
0610 hours, GMT
The flight of Crocodiles shrieked out of the eastern sky, ventral thrusters hissing as they swung blunt prows toward the ancient fortress. Marine Staff Sergeant Gerald Swayze watched the stone walls below through his link with the Croc’s scanner array and prayed that this time Intel knew its ass from a hole in the ground.
The CL/BC-5 Crocodile was an ugly and ungainly piece of equipment: blunt, stubby, and no-nonsense, with a nano docking collar on its squared-off prow, broadly splayed landing legs, and a pair of turrets on its back that turned the landing craft into a semimobile fortress once it had completed its primary mission. In this case, that mission was transporting forty armed and armored USNA Marines from orbit to the surface of a hostile planet.
The hostile planet in this case was Earth, the objective a massive, centuries-old stone fortress deep within the territory of the European Union … a fortress known to history as Verdun.
“Stand ready, people!” Lieutenant Widner’s voice came through their in-heads, crisp and sharp. “Fifteen seconds!”
Swayze listened for any hint of fear or indecision there, but heard none. This was Widner’s first op as platoon commander, but he didn’t seem to carry the usual newbie CO baggage of arrogance or overconfidence in doing it all by the book. Mostly, that meant he’d been paying attention to his NCO staff in general and to Swayze in particular. With an attitude like that, they might actually be able to pull this op off.
