Pursuit of the Bold

by Jamie McFarlane

  "Classic," Tabby said and I beamed at her acknowledgement of the music.

  "Pretty great, right?" I said.

  "Ship feels good, although she's no Intrepid." Tabby said what I was also thinking. Our actual acceleration was considerably more than was possible on Intrepid and unlike Sterra's Gift, the transition to hard burn was graceful to the point where it was hardly noticeable.

  "Everything is so tidy," I said, looking at the clean lines of the forward bulkhead that sat just beneath the broad armored glass looking out to the stars. "Sendrei, you mind taking the helm while Tabbs and I take a look around? This is our first time on a Hermes class sloop."

  "I've taken the liberty of proposing a watch schedule, Captain," Sendrei said. "If acceptable, first watch falls to Jonathan."

  "Tentatively, I accept," I agreed. "I'll look at it in further detail while we're underway."

  "Aye, Captain."

  "Captain, have you anything to report?" Jonathan asked, recognizing our long-standing helm turn-over procedures.

  "Negative. All systems are functioning within norms and we've nothing but wide-open space between us and the Tamu wormhole," I answered Jonathan's formal start to helm change procedure.

  "Captain, I offer my relief."

  "I stand relieved."

  "I'll show you around," Sendrei said, standing with Tabby and me. "Mars might have added a bit of sizzle to the old girl, but their Hermes sloop isn’t anything too new."

  "Says every nanker sailor ever born," Tabby needled as the three of us headed aft. Her term 'nanker' was a derisive term used by Mars Protectorate sailors when describing the North Americans. "Just because it has engines, atmo, navigation and a bilge doesn't mean the North Americans invented it."

  Sendrei chuckled. "Ah yes, I had forgotten your service. It truly is a delightful ship. I am pleased to give credit to the Mars engineers for their modifications to the sloop design. Truly there are only so many changes possible when improving upon something so tried and tested."

  I smiled, knowing that the war of words between Tabby and Sendrei was just heating up. I pushed open the first hatch we came across on the port side. Within I found good-sized quarters I knew to be the captain's. Thoughtfully, someone had already dropped the bags we'd left in the aft passage.

  "Seems roomy," Tabby said, leaning over my back, resting her chin on my shoulder. While I agreed, I found the statement ironic. The VIP room on Petersburg Station was easily five times the size of the room where we now stood. The fact was, however, there was a bed, desk, storage for clothing, and a table that could accommodate four if you were willing to sit on the corner of the bed.

  "No private head," Sendrei said. "North Americans would never put up with that, but these ships were made for deep-space exploration and essentials took priority. Saving space, however, has allowed for some amenities we'll all appreciate."

  "Like what?"

  "There are two heads, identical in shape and function," Sendrei said, crossing the hallway and pushing open the hatch opposite the captain's quarters. "There are two private shower stalls and three zero-gravity commodes. Nothing fancy, but if this ship were at capacity, you'd appreciate it. There are two single officer bunks and two shared junior officer quarters next in line. I put Jonathan directly aft of your quarters and I will occupy the other single. This leaves crewmen Hunter and Bray using the junior officer bunks. Nick wanted as much storage as possible and we've flexed the normal crew quarters to cargo. Even so, we're only sailing at fifty percent capacity."

  "So, bunks and toilets," Tabby said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I'd consider those to be add-ons. Impress me already."

  "How about a fully stocked armory, recreation room for watching vids, playing cards and general relaxation materials, and a two-cell brig? The ship has a Class-B mil-spec replicator capable of making small-arms ammunition and most ship parts, given enough time," he responded. "She's truly designed for long range missions. I haven't even mentioned the best part, since I really want to see it for myself first."

  "I'd prefer Intrepid, but it's hard to argue against the design. Any thoughts on assigning crew duties while underway?" I asked. Marny had told me that she'd talked to Sendrei about running the crew, but I wanted to make sure he was up for it.

  "We'll run eight-hour work shifts each twenty-four unless you're on bridge duty where we'll be running a standard four-hour watch. There is no shortage of tasks to keep the crew busy," he said. "Petty Officer Bray is familiar with standard bridge watches and we'll have her and Hunter man one watch every thirty-six. I've sent you the details in a briefing. Let me know if you'd like changes."

  "You can take the man out of the Navy …" Tabby quipped as we continued down the passageway.

  "Organization frees the mind from mundane tasks," Sendrei replied.

  "What's next?" I asked, nodding at Hunter and Bray who were up to their elbows in packages they were stowing inside the galley cabinetry.

  "Coffee, Captain?" Hunter asked, closing a door and locking it with a standard magneto slide hasp.

  "Not about to turn that down, thanks," I said. "Todd, isn't it?"

  "That's right, Captain," he said, handing me a cup of muddy-looking liquid. He waited while I tasted it, watching while I took a quick sip.

  "Something wrong?" he asked when I grimaced.

  "Have you ever had coffee?" I asked.

  "Negative. We received a briefing from Ada Chen. She said it was your favorite and we decided to try making it. The instructions seemed simple; I'm not sure how we messed it up," he said.

  "Petty Officer Bray?" I asked. "Surely North Americans drink coffee."

  "Copy that, Captain," she answered brightly. "This coffee is one-hundred percent certified genuine North American. I would go so far as to say that a finer cup has never been served aboard this vessel."

  I grinned at her enthusiasm. "Now that I might believe," I said. "But then, I've never been partial to military-baked coffee. I'm going to ask for a favor. Now, this is not an order – as much as it is a plea."

  "What's on your mind, Captain?" Hunter asked.

  "I've just sent instructions to the replicator for a specialized cleaning solution that I'd like to have run through the coffee unit. After the solution has been run through no less than three times, we'll need to soak a specially-made squeegee in that same solution and push it through the supply and delivery tubes. Only when that squeegee exits the delivery tube without brown on it, are we done. This might take a few tries, but believe me, it's worth it. After that, it's critical we have the exact measure of ground coffee beans to water and that those beans are only ground moments before delivery. I assume the coffee unit will bring the water to correct temperature?" I asked hopefully.

  "That's quite a lot of work," Hunter said. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have juice or water?"

  "Oh, my good man, no," I said.

  "Sacrilege," Bray agreed.

  I turned to her. "So you agree, good coffee is worth the effort?"

  "Totally," she answered. "I just don't believe coffee gets better than this." She saluted with a cup she picked from the counter and smiled as she happily drank from it.

  "Give me seventy-two hours and I'll ruin you for life," I said.

  "Challenge accepted," she answered.

  "Is this all storage?" Tabby asked, looking down the hallway, apparently losing interest in the coffee conversation.

  "Crew quarters are on the port side," Sendrei said, pointing at one of three hatches in the aft hallway. "Engine and electronics access are through the panel in the deck. The 'tween deck provides one-hundred fifty centimeters headroom and runs the length of the ship. Starboard side, however, is a gem you'll no doubt appreciate."

  "What's that?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me as I followed him to the hatch.

  "North Americans had an initiative to deal with the negative mental health effects of long-term space flights. You'll never believe the gym they put together."

 
"Really?" I asked. "I thought we had it pretty good on Hotspur, with a full boxing ring, weight equipment, running tracks and the like."

  He pushed the hatch open. "Check this out."

  Stepping into the room felt like entering another world entirely. While I recognized much of the equipment, it was the setting that was so different. The bulkheads were covered in vid-screen material that projected a bright blue sky overhead. As I looked around, it appeared as if we were in a forest. A light breeze smelling of pine wafted across, adding to the illusion. Along the outer wall a 125cm wide stream ran the length of the room, fully integrated with the scenery.

  "A river?" I asked.

  "That's backup drinking water, so don't go peeing in it," Sendrei said.

  "Ewww," Tabby wrinkled her nose comically.

  "The water feature can be programmed for soaking, laps or just as scenery. There are eighty different location settings, a lot of which are recordings from Earth and Mars."

  "There's no dueling ring," Tabby complained.

  "Machines can retract and there's a full-size dojo sparring configuration," he said. "They really spared no expense."

  "We're going to want one of these on Intrepid."

  My comm chimed and Jonathan's voice broke in. "Captain, our apologies. There is a matter that requires your attention on the bridge."

  "Copy that, Jonathan, I'm headed forward. What's the issue?" I answered, nodding at Tabby to follow.

  "We believe there is a craft that follows," he answered. "It is blocking transponder signal output and is heavily armed."

  "Frak," I said, accelerating to a run.

  Chapter 9

  Digitus Impudicus

  The whistle announced my return to the bridge, Tabby and Sendrei sprinting in right behind me. A holo projection, centered in the eight-meter-round space of the bridge, showed another sloop-sized ship menacingly close, just aft of our position. Its heading was in a direct line to the Tamu gate and exactly matched Gaylon Brighton’s.

  "Any communications?" I asked.

  "Negative, Captain," Jonathan answered. "We've identified the ship as Kasumi."

  "Kasumi?"

  "Yes. Kasumi are distant relatives of the Felio from the opposite side of the Aeratroas region," Jonathan said, replacing the image of the ship with a male and a female Kasumi. The species did indeed resemble Felio if you didn't look too closely. Unlike Felio however, their fur was much shorter. Upon further inspection, it dawned on me that they also had hair like human or Pogona and their hands were long digits instead of paws. In the right light, it would not be difficult to mistake a Kasumi for human.

  "They're pretty far from home. What do you suppose they're doing?"

  "We do not believe the timing of the Kasumi ship is coincidence," Jonathan said. "As you know, the odds of a chance encounter while sailing are remote. This is mitigated somewhat in that we are sailing on a direct line between Petersburg Station and the Tamu wormhole. According to the station's records, however, the Kasumi ship did not dock for services. In short, we surmise this ship has specific interest in Gaylon Brighton."

  "Sendrei, talk to me about their offensive capacity," I said.

  "Sloop class, just as Gaylon Brighton." He poked his large hand into the center of the holo image, dismissed the Kasumi form, and centered a rendering of a slowly rotating ship. "Armor appears to be kinetic repulser, with shielding against nuclear and electromagnetic. It is difficult to know for sure, but what we're seeing is consistent with other high-grade ships in Dwingeloo. There are four forward mounted blasters and a single missile port. It is reasonable to expect there are also aft-mounted blasters not currently visible."

  "That's aggressive," I observed. "Do their guns look big to you?" Where technology was concerned, size didn't always matter but my AI showed the turrets were forty percent larger than our own.

  "Yes," he answered simply.

  "You should not draw conclusions from common ancestry of Kasumi and Felio," Jonathan interjected. "The Kasumi did not rise to dominance on their home planet. Instead they share a planet with two other sentient species, one of which you interacted with – Golenti. The history of these three species vying for their home planet's resources is violent and replete with long running wars."

  Flashing to a memory of the violent gangster, Goboble, I frowned. "Just keeps getting better."

  "How did we become aware of this ship?" I asked.

  "The ship appeared from the opposite side of Zuri," Jonathan said. "and has matched our acceleration to within half a percent, keeping a twenty-thousand-kilometer set-back."

  "Show delta-v on holo."

  One of the ship's many AIs accepted my command and traced a short red line in front of the Kasumi ship. At twenty thousand kilometers of separation, I wasn't concerned about immediate conflict. We were on a long journey, however, and the troubling fact was that they were gaining on us, albeit slowly.

  "Project separation to when we reach Tamu wormhole," Tabby ordered, instinctively understanding my focus. The field being projected grew to show our two ships with a point of light in the distance, obviously the Tamu gate. Running at twenty-times speed, we watched as the Kasumi ship closed to within ten thousand kilometers by the time we reached the gate.

  "It would not be difficult for the Kasumi to change their deceleration as they approach the gate," Sendrei observed. "Even a small delay would allow them to overtake our position."

  "They'd only get a single strike at us if they did," I said, resetting the holo simulation and demonstrating the fact that coming from so far behind would cause them to rocket past the gate at high speed.

  "It is an approach the ship is well built for," he said. "If I were intent on taking this ship, I would target the engines, desiring to knock out your worm-hole drive before you could transition. I would do it at this point." He grabbed the two ships in the simulation and pulled them back along their flight vectors.

  "We could peel off and let them pass," I said.

  "And have them wait for us at the wormhole?" Tabby asked. "That's not a good solution."

  "No, don't peel off now," I said. "Let's assume Sendrei's theory is right. We peel off once we're within a few thousand kilometers of the wormhole. The big idea is we don't let them know we're concerned until it's critical. Maybe they just have issues with personal space."

  "We recommend a reconsideration if they cross twelve thousand kilometers," Jonathan said.

  "Sendrei, could you make that a standing order?" I asked.

  "Copy that, Captain," Sendrei answered. "I will also set the ship's AI to monitor and alert all crew if the ship breaches twelve thousand kilometers."

  "Thank you," I said. "I think I'll go back and help the crew unpack our supplies."

  "Hold on there, flyboy," Tabby said. "Marny left word with me that I was to get you back into your exercise regimen. Why don't you give me thirty minutes on the running track, first?"

  "Seriously?" I might have whined a little. "I'm wounded from pod-ball."

  "I seem to recall you were quite vigorous this morning," she said.

  Sendrei raised an eyebrow as he looked from Tabby to me. "North Americans believe that pain is simply the weakness leaving your body. If, with proper motivation, you can – well – do things, certainly a few minutes on a running track would not end you. A top-notch crew needs a fit captain."

  "Really? You too?" I asked, returning Sendrei's broad grin. I could always tell when he was working me over, because his speech turned more formal. It was like he was adopting his previous persona as a Lieutenant in the North American Navy.

  "I'll go with you," he said. "I desperately need to stretch my legs."

  "I really want to be you when I grow up," I said, hanging my head as I followed him aft.

  Three days later, we were on final approach to the wormhole and the distance between us and the Kasumi craft had dwindled to eleven thousand kilometers. I’d made the strategic decision not to react when they crossed twelve thousand kilometers,
as I’d wanted to maintain the illusion of not caring. The fact was, we had no idea if our ship was faster or nimbler. I'd also hoped to see other traffic through the wormhole, possibly using it as a diversion in case things headed toward the bilge, as they so often did. In my mind, however, I'd given up on their proximity as anything but provocative.

  "Delta-v is elevating," Jonathan announced. The difference between our acceleration vectors (or in this case deceleration vectors) was generally referred to as delta-v.

  "Bringing weapons online," Sendrei said. "I recommend active restraints."

  "All hands, let's get strapped in," I said. "We're on approach to the wormhole and if anything is going to happen, it'll be here."

  Over the last three days, I'd gotten to know both Hunter and Petty Officer Bray better. Through the course of a few card games, we'd discussed the potential danger the pursuing ship signified. Bray, a veteran of several conflicts, had grimly accepted the news, understanding it was just part of the job. Hunter, on the other hand, understandably had a number of concerns. As a result, I'd been careful not to overstate the danger.

  "We're secure, Captain," Bray answered a moment later.

  "Copy that, Bray," I answered.

  I adjusted the trim on our engines by a fraction. The move, while slight, would have us miss the wormhole by ten kilometers, a distance we could make up in a few seconds with Gaylon Brighton's powerful engines.

  "They're matching," Tabby warned, telling me something I'd already seen.

  "Copy," I answered and adjusted a bit more, pushing our eventual destination even further away. The Kasumi ship matched our changes one-for-one and in response, I continued to adjust away from the wormhole at the same time I started bleeding off our deceleration, which initially caused the distance between our ships to increase. My end game was simple; I needed to increase the distance between the two ships such that we could also zero-out delta-v with the wormhole once out of their weapon's range.