Exiles of Earth: Rebellion

by Richard Tongue

  Struggling to hold on, she pulled herself forward, finally reaching the terminal, and began to poke at the controls, rubbing her forehead as she attempted to focus, to concentrate on the task at hand. Lights winked on the panel, the sirens pounding in her ears, and she swept her hand across the controls, at last bringing up the command sequence for the satellite.

  She paused at the access code, straining to remember, then finally entered in a command sequence, hoping that the bridge crew had been able to complete the updates to her security profile in time. The lights flashed red, then amber, the systems deciding whether or not to accept her commands, precious seconds ticking away as the satellite soared over the planet below, moving inexorably towards its target. Oxygen began to flood into the corridor, the life support systems compensating for the pressure leak, and her focus began to tighten, her hands moving more rapidly across the controls.

  She was in, locked into the fire control systems, able at last to make commands. The paranoid Fitzroy had programmed each of them independently, and each missile needed a series of instructions to disarm, each taking a precious second, the time lag between the ship and the satellite wasting time. Ten missiles to disable. First one, then two, then three. Her fingers began to move mechanically, without thought, easily racing through the procedures.

  All the time, she avoided looking at the clock, counting down the seconds, smoothly heading towards optimum firing time. Only one more missile to go, but as she completed the disarmament sequence, an error message displayed, first once, then twice. Ignition had begun. It was too late to stop the launch.

  Once again, she worked the controls, this time attempting to bring up the self-destruct sequence. It might be too late to prevent it from launching, but there was still a chance that she could stop it in its tracks. And yet every attempt failed. Fitzroy, again. Now that it was in motion, the missile would only accept the command codes of two men. Ikande and Fitzroy.

  Two dead men.

  She looked up at the trajectory plot, the missile curving down towards its target on the planet below. She’d been too slow. She’d failed.

  And millions of innocent people were going to pay the price.

  Chapter 38

  “We’ve got a launch!” Bianchi yelled, looking up at her display. “Single missile, bearing directly for the planet. Time to impact, seven minutes, thirty seconds, atmospheric entry three minutes earlier.”

  “Alter course, helm,” Mitchell ordered. “Intercept trajectory, closest possible approach. Zhao, I want a full missile spread as soon as we’re in range., I want that thing knocked out of my sky.”

  “I’ll try, sir, but that missile type is designed for evasion of incoming targets, and it’s going to have a hell of a lot of relative velocity, more than forty thousand miles an hour. The odds of us getting a hit against a target that small, moving that quickly, on an evasive pattern, are next to zero.”

  “How close can you get us, helm?” Mitchell asked.

  “Not close enough, sir,” Petrov said, his hands dancing across the helm. “Six hundred and fifty miles, and that’s running our engines way past the red-line.”

  “Then we’ll have to use point-defense,” he replied, turning to Zhao. “Spaceman…”

  “Maximum range is three hundred and fifty, sir. They’re inverse-square, not designed to work at long range. We don’t have the capacity…”

  “I need them to work at double their normal range, Spaceman. What happens if you feed the entire power of the ship through the systems. Everything we’ve got.”

  “We’d blow every relay on the deck, sir!” Zhao protested.

  “We need one salvo, son. One shot, well-aimed, will be enough to bring that missile down. You’re a weapons technician. The best we’ve got. You’re going to have to prove it.”

  Shaking his head, Zhao replied, “It’s impossible, sir. Not at that range.” He paused, then said, “Maybe…”

  “What?” Mitchell asked, eagerly.

  “The capacitors are nowhere near big enough for the sort of load we’re talking about.” His hands moved across the controls, tentatively at first, then with increasing surety. “The only system on the ship designed to handle that sort of a load is the hyperdrive. We’d have to tie the two systems together, throw everything into one surge.” Turning from his station, he added, “We’ll have one shot, sir. Just one. And we’re looking at a lot of repairs afterwards before we can even break orbit. I hate to think what it will do to the hyperdrive systems, but we’ll probably need to completely recalibrate the network.”

  “Meaning we’re trapped here,” Bianchi said.

  “Spaceman, what are the estimated casualties from that missile impact?” Mitchell asked.

  “Three to five million from the initial strike. Probably as many again within the month, radiation sickness, burns, other trauma.” She turned to him, and said, “You’re right, sir.”

  “Make it happen, Zhao,” Mitchell said. “I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care how much damage you do in the process. Bring that missile down.”

  “Aye, sir,” the technician said, his attention totally focused on his station.

  “We’re being signaled from the surface, sir. Colonel Brock.”

  “With a collection of inventive threats, presumably,” he replied. “Can her interceptors reach us? Or the missiles, for that matter?”

  “Not a chance,” Watson said, shaking her head. “She’s committed everything to Endurance. Her spaceborne fighters are out of position for a strike on the missile, and nothing on the surface could possibly make contact in time. There’s absolutely nothing the High Guard can do.”

  “Then I don’t need to talk to her right now,” Mitchell replied. Tapping a control on the armrest of his chair, he said, “Bridge to Engineering. Chief, are you down there yet?”

  “Right here, skipper. I’m going to go ahead and guess that you want me to feed more power to the engines. I’m already running the systems as hot as I dare, and I’ve got my remaining staff watching the distribution network. We took a lot of internal damage during the mutiny. If I make a single mistake, we’ll have a total systems brownout.”

  “Find me more power, Chief. We’ve got to get as close to the missile as we can, or it’s all over. Any other damage I need to know about?”

  “You don’t have time for the complete list. For the very short-term, we can manage, but we’re going to be stuck in orbit for a while after this battle is over. No chance that we can’t fix this ship without help from the ground.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Watson said. “You’ve got a friendly spaceship engineering consortium that would be more than willing to tender for that particular contract.”

  “Two minutes to intercept,” Petrov said. “Engines at maximum output. We’re going to be dropping pretty low, sir. Under orbital velocity.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Mitchell replied. “If the only option we had was to ram that missile with this ship, I’d take it. There are too many lives at stake. Push her as hard as you can.”

  “We’re down to six hundred and thirty at closest approach,” Petrov replied with a smile. “I might be able to knock a little more off that.”

  “Every meter might be critical,” Mitchell said. “Zhao, what’s the story?”

  “Working, sir,” the technician replied. “I’ve got to get this right. Our systems aren’t designed to do this. I’m going to have to use every redundant power line to feed the surge through to the cannons, and I can’t begin the process until I’m ready to fire.” Throwing a control, he said, “I have a firing solution. We’ll be firing at minimum range.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?” Watson asked.

  “The missile hits its target, three and a half minutes later.”

  “Ready to fire missiles,” Zhao said. “On your command, sir.”

  “Fire at will,” Mitchell said. “And that goes for the particle beams, also. You have the call. Take the shot when you think it best.�
�

  “Aye, sir,” Zhao said, glancing quickly at Mitchell, before shaking his head and returning to his console.

  “Something wrong, Spaceman?” Mitchell asked.

  “I didn’t expect to be sitting on the bridge less than an hour after launching a mutiny, sir, serving under one of the original officers.”

  “Life can do strange things sometimes.” He paused, then said, “All your sins will be more than forgiven it you pull this off, Lieng. You have my word on that. If you’d trust the word of an officer.”

  “Only when it was you, sir. One minute to firing.” The hull briefly shook, and he added, “Missiles away, aiming directly, but I still don’t think we have any realistic chance of scoring a hit.”

  “When will we know?” Mitchell asked.

  “Eight seconds before closest approach.”

  “We’re still being hailed from the surface, sir,” Bianchi reported, “and the Atlantean interceptors have altered their trajectory. They’ll have a perfect firing run at us when we come around the far side of the planet.”

  Shaking his head, Petrov replied, “There’s nothing we can do about that, sir. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to pull out of the dive ourselves.”

  “Thirty seconds to firing,” Zhao said. “Initiating power buildup.”

  Mitchell nodded, watching as the technicians labored at their controls, Petrov struggling to gain all the acceleration he could, bringing the ship down towards its target, Zhao frantically working his console, transferring power throughout the network, trying to keep everything functional for long enough to take his shot, wincing at every red light indicating a burnout.

  Ahead, on the screen, the planet flashed beneath them, dominating the display. Endurance was passing over a green plain, wide and verdant, where the terraforming process had worked at its best, the genetically tailored plant life digging into the soil, a process that would ultimately lead to a new Earth, out here among the stars. A replacement for the world lost in the Last World War. One that a dead man was about to destroy out of spite and hatred.

  “Ten seconds,” Zhao replied. “Charging sequence ready. Missiles have failed to impact target.”

  “Chief,” Mitchell said, opening a channel to engineering, “We’re going to have a lot of malfunctions in the next few minutes. Ride them out. We’ve got to keep the engines firing at all costs.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Khatri replied. “Tell Zhao that everything looks good down here.”

  “Five seconds,” Zhao said, his finger trembling as it hovered over the button. “Stand by.”

  Mitchell watched the screen, watched the single trajectory track ahead, the missile racing towards its target, Endurance homing in on it, the last few seconds trickling away as he watched. Finally, at closest approach, Zhao pressed a control, and the lights failed on the bridge, consoles dark, the network rebooting after a catastrophic power failure.

  “What happened?” Mitchell asked. “Chief? Bridge to Engineering. Chief?”

  “No helm control, sir,” Petrov replied.

  “Sensors coming back,” Bianchi said. “Focusing astern. Resolution building.” She paused, then said, “I can’t see it. I can’t see the missile!” She paused, then added, “Debris field astern! Matches the size of a missile, all small enough to burn up on reentry. We’ve done it!”

  “Nice shooting,” Mitchell said, turning to Zhao, a smile on his face. “Damned nice shooting!”

  “I can’t believe it,” Zhao replied, shaking his head, still looking at his console. “I can’t quite believe it.” Tapping controls, he said, “I’ve lost the whole system, sir. I’ll have to recalibrate from scratch. We won’t be able to fire a shot for at least six hours.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to,” Mitchell said. “Petrov, report.”

  “Getting some control now, sir, but I’m way down on thrust.” Looking at the status panel on his right, a sea of red lights, he added, “I’m only getting about one-quarter power. Not enough to pull out. We’re on a course for the surface, sir. No chance that we can avoid re-entry.”

  “The escape pods?” Watson asked.

  “Not designed for this sort of environment,” Mitchell replied. “They were never intended for atmospheric landings, and they don’t have the delta-v to pull out of the climb.” He paused, smiled, then said, “What about an atmospheric skip? Bounce back out?”

  “It’s worth a try,” he replied. “I’ll need fine thruster control, and all the information I can get about the atmosphere. Our computer models don’t have enough data yet.”

  “Hold on,” Watson said. “The shuttle we launched on has everything you’ll need.”

  “Set up a datalink, Zhao,” Mitchell ordered. The planet was growing ever larger, a warning light flickering on the viewscreen, contact with the outermost limits of the atmosphere. “Ride the helm, Petrov. Any orbit will do. Chief Khatri will get the engines back if we can give him enough time.”

  “Altering course,” he said. “I wish we had internal communications. We’re going to hit turbulence.” Throwing a control, he added, “Killing rotation. This is going to be tough enough as it is.”

  “Pills, everyone,” Mitchell said. “Watson, there’s a compartment in your left seat rest. Take two pills, dry. I don’t care if you’ve got an iron stomach, I’m not taking a risk.” He began to drift free of his chair, snapping on a strap to hold him in place, the rest of the crew doing the same. At the helm, Petrov worked, steadily altering course, adjusting their descent angle in a bid to use the atmosphere to skip back away, back out into space.

  “Altimeter’s up!” Watson said, and Mitchell shook his head. This was turning into a bad habit, but this time, they were racing through atmosphere, the outer hull temperature rising, burning through the armor. Warning lights flickered on the status panel, internal communications returning in time to bring them a succession of alerts, casualty reports streaming in.

  “Come on,” Petrov muttered. “Come on, old girl, give me all you’ve got. One more push.”

  Slowly, slowly, the ship began to level off, arresting its descent, the hull creaking and groaning under the unaccustomed stresses, struggling under the load. The red lights on the power grid were flickering to amber, one by one, the network slowly coming back online as the engineers labored. Petrov waited, frowned at the controls, then pulled back on the throttle, accelerating to full speed. Alerts wailed on the deck, the forward hull heating fast, but Endurance was gaining speed, gaining altitude, slowly pulling away from Atlantis.

  “I think we’re going to make it,” Petrov said, shaking his head. “God damn, I think we’re going to make it!” A cheer rose up around the bridge as the planet dipped down, out of the viewscreen, the hull stress warning lights flickering out. Mitchell slumped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead, Thiou stepping forward, her face a cold mask.

  “All of this,” she said, “all of this, was because of me.”

  Shaking his head, Mitchell said, “Lots of blame to go around, Doctor. Fitzroy, Wagner, Nguyen, Ikande, the politicians back home. Hell, I ought to take a share. We could have done it all different.” Gesturing at the screen, he added, “For now, for right now, the important thing is that down there on Atlantis, they can sleep safe and sound tonight. That’s important.”

  “Aspect change on the Atlantean interceptors, sir,” Bianchi said. “They’re moving into a stable orbit, away from an intercept course. I guess Colonel Brock decided to trust us.”

  “It won’t be Colonel Brock for much longer,” Watson replied. “That’s someone who’ll be drawing her pension a hell of a lot sooner than she expected.”

  “Let us all live long enough to do the same,” Petrov said. He turned to Mitchell, and asked, “What do we do now, sir?”

  With a thin smile, Mitchell replied, “We’re all guilty of treason, mutiny, murder. Or at the very least, conspiracy to commit. Worst of all, our mission has been a total failure, and that they’ll never forgive. If we went back t
o Mars, they’d throw us all out of an airlock.”

  “We can’t go home?” Bianchi said.

  “Don’t worry, Spaceman. It’s a big galaxy out there. We’re just going to have to find ourselves a new one. Sooner or later, somewhere out there, we’ll find our Ithaca. That’s a promise.”

  Thank you for reading ‘Exiles of Earth: Rebellion’. For information on future releases, please join the author's Science-Fiction Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.

  The saga will continue in ‘Exiles of Earth: Redemption’, coming in September 2018…

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