A Star Wheeled Sky

by Brad R Torgersen

  General Ticonner examined the tactical situation, and was continually annoyed with the fact that his holographic projector couldn’t keep up with the number of moving objects in the comet’s vicinity. A constant, sparkling shower of tiny dots flitted about like fireflies. But nothing other than the comet—and the Oswight yacht—were readily identifiable. What had happened? And why had the Oswight yacht been left behind?

  The General floated through Unity’s command module, examining the overhead hologram from different angles. So far as Unity’s sensors were concerned, the comet itself was approximately ten kilometers in diameter, give or take a hundred meters in various directions—on account of the comet’s uneven surface. Its gravity barely registered, but the Kuiper object had enough of a local field to retain the penumbra of gas, particles, and clutter which presently made sensor readings difficult.

  “What’s your opinion?” Ticonner asked Unity’s captain.

  “I’d really like to know how that civilian ship was disabled,” the captain said. “Last we saw of the Constellar squadron, the yacht did not exist as a separate entity. It must have been mated to one of the larger ships. But what happened to separate them, and where’s the rest of the Constellar expeditionary group?”

  “Still no contacts registering at long range?” Ticonner asked the Unity’s strategic overwatch officer, who had an up-to-the-minute status report on the entire system.

  “None, sir, save for the three remaining ships in the kosmarch’s pursuit force. And they’re braking right now, to enter orbit around the clement terrestrial. The three civilian starliners appear to have used that planet for another gravity assist, which has launched them on a trajectory which will intersect the system’s largest jovian, close to the sun.”

  “I wonder why Ekk didn’t press the pursuit?” Ticonner asked out loud.

  “The kosmarch’s eye is fixed on that clement world,” said the captain. “I doubt very much that General Ekk had any choice.”

  “True. But those starliners cannot be allowed to escape. If there wasn’t such a great distance now separating us, I’d be tempted to pursue.”

  “There’s also the single Constellar long-range patrol ship that is slowly closing on our position. It went well wide of Ekk’s force, but would seem to be homing in on the Oswight yacht at this time.”

  “A rescue attempt?” Ticonner speculated.

  “Possibly,” the captain said.

  General Ticonner rubbed his eyes. There were too many unanswered questions. The Constellar order of battle was in apparent disarray. Had they come to the new system so unprepared that their admiral eschewed all known Constellar fighting doctrine? Starstate Nautilan had learned that doctrine thoroughly. This time, however, there didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to the Constellar flag officer’s plan. She’d sacrificed a scout to kill one of Ticonner’s destroyers. A reckless move, which she could not repeat without depleting more of her available vessels. The captains under Ticonner’s command were also not so foolish as to allow themselves to fall prey to the same rear-guard attack twice.

  “See if you can get live communication with the Constellar civilian vessel,” Ticonner ordered. “Before we do anything, I’d like to talk to them.”

  Unity’s comm officer acknowledged, and began setting up the response to Hallibrand’s emergency transmission.

  Within ninety seconds, the comm officer reported, “There’s a reply, sir. Audio only. It’s somewhat broken up. Male voice, using standard Mariclesh. Do you want to hear it?”

  “Yes,” Ticonner said. “Main command module speakers, please.”

  The comm officer typed at his keyboard until the crackling, distorted sound of the Hallibrand’s audio channel came through.

  “…have been requesting assistance for the better part of two…unable to use sensors to get a fix on…please send help…Lady Oswight willing to discuss terms…”

  “Terms,” Ticonner said, his eyebrow over his left eye raising. He chuckled softly as he looked at Unity’s captain. Then he cleared his throat, and hand signaled for the comm officer to put Ticonner through.

  “This is General Ticonner, speaking for Starstate Nautilan,” he said. “To whomever remains aboard the Constellar ship calling itself Hallibrand I offer greeting. Having already lost one of my destroyers to your expeditionary fleet, I would like to understand why it is you assume I won’t attack and destroy you?”

  “…Lady Oswight recommending…possible loss of life support before the day…unable to reach other Constellar ships…no threat being made against…repeat, Lady Oswight recommending face-to-face talks…”

  Ticonner considered. A member of a First Family would make for a prestigious prisoner when returning to Nautilan space. If Lady Oswight could be used as a bargaining chip, the Oswight system might fall into Nautilan hands without so much as a shot fired. Which did not make Ticonner feel any better about sending any of his remaining destroyers to assist the yacht. With the rest of the Constellar fleet unaccounted for, the yacht—all by itself—felt too much like a lure. But did Ticonner dare resist?

  “Take us to within one hundred thousand kilometers,” Ticonner ordered. “Maintain the battle wheel, and perform vigorous sensor sweeps.”

  Ticonner’s force proceeded cautiously. At one hundred thousand kilometers, the visual telescopes began to make out detail, despite the low light levels. The little Oswight yacht was drifting in a stew of randomly moving bits of rock and ice. Ambient gas and dust turned the yacht into little more than a smudgy shadow amongst the debris.

  “Have we detected anything that looks like another ship,” Ticonner asked, “waiting for us amidst all that rubble?”

  “Just the yacht, sir,” the tactical officer reported. “Though our ability to get an accurate reading on all of the surrounding space is still poor. There’s just too much junk out there for the computer to make sense of it all.”

  “But we can see Hallibrand plainly,” Ticonner said. “Wouldn’t we see her companions likewise?”

  “Again, I can’t account for it, sir,” the tactical officer replied.

  Ticonner hovered—hands gripped tightly to the rails which ran around the perimeter of the command module—while he considered his options.

  Waiting meant risking the lives of the Hallibrand’s crew, and possibly the Lady Oswight with them. Sending one or more destroyers to perform a close inspection meant exposing them to potential attack. According to Ekk’s own report, his squadron had lost a destroyer when the point-defense network failed to recognize incoming low-yield tactical nukes. The weapons had been gimmicked to look like something other than what they were. But would the Constellar admiral risk using a similar sneak attack on Nautilan ships if they were in such close proximity to the Oswight yacht?

  Finally, Ticonner said, “Send this to the captain of the Enforcer. Break from battle wheel formation, and proceed to within fifty thousand kilometers of the Oswight yacht. Go very, very slowly. Maximum sensor activity the entire time. If nothing happens at fifty, then close to within twenty-five. If nothing happens at twenty-five, then close to within ten. If nothing happens at ten, Enforcer is to proceed to rendezvous with the Constellar civilian ship. We’ll form an attack wedge with Unity at the tip, and follow Enforcer at a distance of thirty thousand kilometers. Anyone or anything attacking the Enforcer should reveal direction and distance, at which time the attack wedge can concentrate its missile fire, and hopefully disable or destroy more of the Constellar ships—if they’re even here.”

  The tactical officer relayed instructions on the encrypted Nautilan battle network. Soon, the Enforcer was leaving her cousins behind, as she moved well ahead of the rest of Ticonner’s squadron. The remaining two ships, now riding at Unity’s starboard and port flank, were sweeping with sensors, trying to detect anything unusual. Enforcer herself gradually entered the cloud of gas and particles which surrounded the comet, pausing occasionally to do a detailed inspection of surrounding space, as well as the civilian craft
itself, before proceeding again.

  “Enforcer now within rendezvous range,” the tactical officer reported.

  “What’s the catch?” Ticonner muttered under his breath, as he watched the hologram hovering over the heads of the command module crew.

  “Enforcer’s captain reports that he’s within five hundred kilometers now, sir. He’s got limited visual on the comet and Hallibrand both. Debris continues to make maneuvering tricky. Enforcer is proceeding at minimal thrust to avoid damage.”

  “Very good,” Ticonner said. “Any new contacts?”

  “None, sir,” said the tactical officer.

  “Hold us here, then. While Enforcer performs a full inspection. Maybe the captain of the yacht is telling the truth? We’ll have to extract answers from prisoners, once we’ve got them. Tell Enforcer’s captain that his boarding party is to use lethal force only as a last resort. The more of them we can get alive, the better our chances of obtaining information that could be useful. Be especially careful about the Oswight heir. If she is onboard, I don’t want her harmed or molested in any way. Her usefulness to the kosmarch can be best determined if she’s delivered to Golsubril Vex alive and well.”

  “Enforcer’s captain has acknowledged the instructions,” the tactical officer replied.

  Ticonner returned to his gee chair, and settled in. For now, his wedge of destroyers held position. If they had to, they could obliterate everything in their forward arc. It would be suicide for Hallibrand to do anything foolish.

  Chapter 30

  Admiral Mikton had attached herself to a clump of water ice. The clump drifted about half a kilometer from Hallibrand’s hull, which was slowly turning end over end, like a good derelict ship should. The Hallibrand’s captain was playing the part to perfection, even engaging in a little tearful pleading on behalf of Lady Oswight, who was in severe distress, he said, as her ship’s functions gradually deteriorated around her.

  Not far off, a Nautilan destroyer was approaching. Zuri had been eavesdropping on the conversation between the yacht and the warship. Her team was spread across several dozen small objects, each drifting harmlessly in the general vicinity of Hallibrand. Light levels remained poor, but the little tactical display Zuri had brought with her was tied into Hallibrand’s passive sensor network. Everything the yacht saw, Zuri saw too, including the slow-motion storm of debris, and the hulk of the Nautilan destroyer as it approached on minimum reactor thrust.

  The Nautilan captain was smart to proceed with caution. It wouldn’t take very many hits from random pieces of rock and ice to do significant damage to his ship. The shield dome on the bow would absorb the bulk of it—provided the captain didn’t make any sudden course changes, nor begin using the reaction-control system to effect drastic yaw and pitch adjustments.

  “Ma’am,” Lieutenant Eolo said, “exactly how close do we want to let this thing come before we move in?”

  “About as far from us as Hallibrand is now,” Zuri replied.

  “And you’re sure you know what to grab, assuming we can get inside?”

  “When we get inside,” Zuri said firmly, “we’ll only have a couple of minutes—at best—before the Nautilan captain figures out what might be happening. That’s when there won’t be any time for hesitation or guesswork. We go in, we cut the code box out of their network, and then we haul ass for the Hallibrand.”

  “I’m looking forward to some live-fire exercise,” Colour Sergeant Mertul said. Zuri could hear the smile behind the statement.

  “You’ll get it,” Admiral Mikton said. “Anyone who survives the decompression of the comm module, whether they’re zipsuited or not, is a fair target. In fact, you’ll be doing the ones not in zipsuits a favor. Vacuum death is ugly. Trust me. Just make sure you don’t begin putting holes in friendlies, Colour Sergeant.”

  “Affirmative, ma’am,” Mertul replied. “We’ll be deadly, but careful.”

  “I think I see them coming,” Eolo said.

  Zuri turned her attention away from her tactical display—switching it off with the touch of a thumb control—to the space near Hallibrand. A monstrous black shadow was moving into position near the revolving yacht. Small flashes of light along the sides of the shadow were her reaction-control thrusters gently firing, so as to maneuver the destroyer with as much delicacy as possible. On the secure channel, Zuri could overhear the captain of the Hallibrand conversing with the captain of the destroyer. The yacht’s decoyed comm situation was fooling them so far, or so it seemed. Though the captain of the destroyer was demanding to speak to Lady Oswight personally now. Which was not a situation the captain of the Hallibrand was prepared to handle.

  “Suggestions?” said the captain’s voice, through Zuri’s encrypted tactical net.

  “You’ve got to keep stalling,” she said. “I want them to get closer.”

  “I don’t think they’re coming any closer until they have Lady Oswight visually confirmed aboard.”

  “That’s not hard to do,” Zuri said. “Do they know what she looks like? Have they ever heard her voice before?”

  “We know they have spies in Constellar—”

  “Right, but can we be certain this specific destroyer captain, or his command module crew, have ever heard or seen Lady Oswight before? No. Just throw one of her helpers on the channel. One of the women who stayed aboard while Lady Oswight went with Antagean. Doesn’t have to be anyone important. Our actor just has to be young, and able to talk the royal lingo well enough to pull it off. Can you produce such a person?”

  “Yes,” the Hallibrand’s captain said.

  “Make it fast. My team can’t move until the destroyer is practically parallel with you.”

  Several minutes passed in silence. Then a young woman’s voice came over the crackling emergency channel. She spoke eloquently, assuring the destroyer’s commander of Hallibrand’s unconditional surrender. The Oswight Family name was invoked several times, assuring the commander of “Lady” Oswight’s good intent. She merely wished to see her crew survive, since the premature detonation of several Constellar sleeper bombs—blamed on Admiral Mikton—had disabled the Hallibrand in flight. Leaving “Lady” Oswight to express her deep unhappiness with Admiral Mikton, and indeed, the entirety of the DSOD as a whole.

  “Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t she?” Colour Sergeant Mertul said sarcastically on the tac net.

  “The thicker the better,” Lieutenant Eolo said.

  Zuri waited. After a few more moments of back-and-forth talk, she saw the destroyer’s reaction control thrusters light up again. The big ship began to move alongside the Hallibrand, which continued its gentle, aimless tumble.

  “Almost,” Zuri said breathlessly. She flicked the tactical display back on, and got a superimposed look at the angles and lines of the Nautilan ship, as revealed by the passive sensors. She was a warship all right, not too different from Catapult. The different modules of the ship were shaped according to function, again like a Constellar ship of similar role. The big difference being the destroyer had more missile and antimissile clusters, plus greater magazine capacity. With thicker armor at the critical points—especially the command module, which was one of the smallest parts of the ship.

  The communications module revealed itself by way of the big radio dishes and message lasers, mounted on telescoping bases. Those devices were all retracted now, to avoid damage from the debris in the vicinity. Zuri used the tactical display to zero in on a spot on the hull, which was roughly ten meters below the largest radio dish. Then she put a big red target reticle on that location, and sent the same image to the rest of the team, who were also checking their tactical displays.

  “Activate your MMUs on my mark,” Zuri said. Waited a few seconds. Then announced, “Mark!”

  The team’s Manned Maneuvering Units all came to life at once. Zipsuited and armor-plated bodies dropped free from the bits of ice and rock they’d been sheltering behind, and began to descend on the Nautilan destroyer. Zuri felt a thrill ru
n through her—having committed themselves out in the open—but didn’t see any indication from the destroyer that her team had been detected. The destroyer’s conversation with the Hallibrand was still ongoing, as “Lady” Oswight dragged out the diplomatic talk.

  “Almost there,” Zuri whispered, as the team made the distance to the enemy ship. Then, they braked in unison, careful not to slam directly into the hull. Instead, they formed up in two stacked lines, and hovered over the hull of the ship, toward the point Zuri had identified. There were no egress hatches on the communications module, save for the larger pod-capable bay doors, which allowed maintenance crews to exit the ship and inspect the comm module’s dishes and lasers. The spot Zuri had picked was near a porthole, through which a small bit of light streamed. The admiral motioned for her team to stay behind her as she floated up to the porthole’s edge, and peered over.

  A dozen different Nautilan military personnel, wearing flight coveralls, were either seated in gee chairs, working at their workstations, or pulling themselves through the module via handrails. Grip boots occasionally touched surfaces, and were used to either latch on, or push off toward some other location inside.

  Nobody seemed to be giving the porthole any notice. This far from the home star, what was there to see?

  “Here,” Zuri hissed, using her finger to draw a wide oval around the porthole. “Ring the charges, like that. When they blow, we’ll wait ten seconds for the interior atmosphere to clear, then we go in shooting.”