"Just where do you plan to find a close-in Bloodhorde ship with its crew off it?" asked Hakin with some sarcasm. The question hung a moment, as they all considered, then the same idea flickered across several faces. Hakin's turned grim. "No. Absolutely not. I am not going to allow more Bloodhorde troops aboard my ship, just for the chance of capturing one of theirs."
"They'd probably like to use one of the repair bays," Dossignal said slowly. "Wraith's in one—they know that. The other's empty . . . the best place for a smallish ship to dock, anyway. Full of stuff they want."
"No!" Hakin said, more loudly.
"Do you have any information on Bloodhorde boarding procedures, Commander?" Dossignal asked, ignoring Hakin for the moment.
Nors thought a moment. "All we have is reports from the few civilians who survived a Bloodhorde raid on a large civilian ship. They come in wearing protective gear that functions as both EVA and battle armor . . . they were in that case quite willing to damage the ship they'd captured to gain control of it. None of the civs we talked to could tell one level of weapon from another, but one of them did describe something capable of holing interior bulkheads with one shot. Here, though, we're assuming they want a DSR entire. I expect they'll do as little damage as possible in capturing it . . . but they do have to board."
"Another possibility," said Commander Wyche, "is the weaponry aboard a Bloodhorde ship in a repair bay. Suppose it could be immobilized there. Then its weapons would give us yet another self-destruct capability. They have forward-mounted weapons in every class."
"If we were able to get aboard and take control."
"I think we can take that as given, sir. If they just sit there, they aren't accomplishing anything . . . they can't shoot at us without doing the damage they don't want, and besides, they have no reputation for being patient. I think we can count on them coming out, with an intent to take control of key systems."
"Which is why we can't let them do it," Captain Hakin said. "It would take your people some time to get aboard, get control of their ship, and maybe be able to use it to defeat their other ships or destroy us . . . and in the meantime, I'd have a shipful of enemy . . . NO."
"So the real problem is getting them off their ship without letting them onto ours," Admiral Livadhi said. He put his fingertips together. "You know . . . there might be a way. If we could shut off the repair bay—that whole wing—"
"We could just take it apart," Admiral Dossignal said.
"Take it apart?" Captain Hakin asked.
"Yes . . . Commander Seveche, review the original construction data and all later modifications . . . there may be a way to cut one of the repair bays loose—unobtrusively, of course—and isolate it from the rest of Koskiusko."
In less than an hour, Seveche returned with the data ready to display; he set up the large screen and lit it.
"Here, you see: when they assembled Kos, they planned for possible changes by using temporary attachments—"
Hakin turned red. "You mean we've been working in a ship that's not really held together—?"
"No, sir. It is held together, and quite well . . . but it would take only hours, not days, to detach it again. These pressure clamps . . . these connectors here . . ." Seveche pointed to them on the display. "All this can be undone fairly easily. Relatively, I mean. The seal between T-4 and the core cylinder is a large expansion joint of sorts." He switched to another display. "As Kos was assembled, before an arm was locked on, the near end of these things were fastened to the core . . . and then the outer end to the arm. As the arms moved in to mate with the core, the corrugations compressed, giving additional safety margin to the join."
"Yes, but—I presume you plan to stretch them out again. Do you really expect them to be sound after all this time?"
"I don't see why not," Seveche said. "We've used the same material over the same span of time, with multiple compressions and extensions, with no failure. Besides, we can have the locks on each side shut. The way the arms are made, there are airlocks on the inner end of each deck."
"I know that, Commander," Hakin said. He sounded annoyed. "But I'm sure they'll notice that the inner hatches are locked, and then they'll blast them—"
"They won't. We can rig temporary cross-dock access . . . they don't know what it's supposed to look like."
"Then when it detaches, it'll depressurize—"
"Not if someone is there to lock the hatches." Seveche looked to Dossignal for help.
"We're going to take casualties, whatever we do," Dossignal said. "To protect us from capture, you're prepared to destroy the ship and crew. I understand that, and it may be necessary. But I believe we have a chance to save both the ship and much of its crew if we can hold out until Admiral Gourache returns. Denying the enemy the use of a ship—using it ourselves—and using what firepower Wraith has left—is the only way I see to do that. I'm sure we'll have volunteers enough for the most hazardous of these hazardous missions."
"We'll have to have someone commanding each section that's freed—with the authority to do what they must, whatever that is. Divided command would be disastrous, and we can't be sure that communications will hold."
"Which means we've got to get those people involved in planning right away—"
"I don't like it," Captain Hakin said. "It's scrabble law: the whole ship is my command, and you're proposing to break off pieces and give them an independent command. Separated, they'll be even easier meat to the invaders—"
"Captain, we're offering a suggestion that gets us both off the hook. Koskiusko was assembled from previously independent sections in deep space. You know that. T-4 and T-3 even had names—Piece and Meal may've been stupid names, but names. They might have been commissioned as ships in their own right, if Fleet had not decided to try for a unified DSR. It's reasonable to maintain that they're both directly under the 14th—"
"You'll have to crew them," Hakin said. "You're not taking any of the crew I need to secure Kos."
Was it capitulation? Admiral Dossignal looked at Hakin a long time.
"You know, Vladis, if it's really going to stick in your craw, you can write a report."
"I intend to," Hakin looked even grimmer. "Partly to question your authority to nominate a captain for any vessel in this sector: that's Foxworth's job, or, at the lowest level, Gourache's."
"I see your point. But I'm going to do it anyway, and we can all hash it out with a Board, if not a court, later."
Hakin shook his head. "It won't improve the odds, and it just makes my job harder . . ."
"I don't see how, since we're almost certainly ridding you of most of your intruders, and one of the ships trying to attack you. Now as for crew, we have the uninjured survivors of Wraith—"
"Which will be needed to serve Wraith's weapons," Livadhi said.
"Their weapons crews certainly. Since Wraith won't be maneuvering, I don't know about their bridge crew. I hate to waste a captain with combat experience aboard a crippled ship. We're not overburdened with such officers."
Commander Atarin spoke up. "Admiral, I have prepared a list of all officers and enlisted aboard with combat experience in the past three years. They're rank-ordered by specialty and performance—not just experience—in combat."
"Good. Let's see . . . oh, my."
"What?" Hakin craned his neck, trying to see.
"We have ample combat-experienced weapons specialists, because the senior weapons technical course is running. Scan . . . not much problem there. We're short environmental systems specialists, but this should be over fast enough that it won't be critical . . . we can have our people in self-contained gear. Communications is also short, but most scan techs are cross-trained in communications and we have plenty of scan techs. What we don't have is ship commanders. Or rather, we have just enough: Wraith's captain for Wraith, and Lieutenant Commander Bowry, who's here for a special course, to command the Bloodhorde ship."
"I don't suppose we'd be lucky enough to get more than one of them
. . ."
"I doubt it. Why would they bring in more than one ship at a time? If they gifted us with such riches, we'd just have to find someone to take it . . . but that gets us down to fairly junior officers with very little experience of ship command in combat." Dossignal considered telling them who, precisely, but he knew Hakin would have particular objections to Esmay Suiza.
Chapter Sixteen
Esmay found what might be a possible cause of the failure of the FTL drives, and took that to Major Pitak, who was overseeing the transport of the long crystal bundles from the Special Materials Fabrication Unit to T-3 and Wraith. Even bundled, they were more flexible than Esmay had expected; as she watched the special transport teams eased them along the transport track. She had known, intellectually, that all ships had such framing members . . . she had known that they had a lateral flexibility which was essential to the design. But these shivering, wriggling lengths seemed far too frail to trust lives to in deep space.
Pitak gave her a brief glance and turned back to watch. "Ah, Suiza . . . find something?"
"It's only a possibility."
"Good enough. Have you seen these before?" She went on before Esmay could answer. "Wiggly, aren't they?" She sounded pleased.
"More than I thought," Esmay said honestly. Vidscan screens showed the entire route, from the exit port at the end of the SpecMatFab, up over T-1, the core, and down again between T-3 and T-4. "Why didn't they put the repair bays on the same side of the ship as SpecMat? Wouldn't it have been easier to transfer things like that?"
"Yes, but that turned out to be the least important design consideration. If it really interests you, when this crisis is over, you can look it up in the design archives . . . the whole argument is in there." She punched up the view in one screen, and pointed to the bundles. "Now that's a good set. After awhile, you'll be recognizing good strands from bad by the oscillations alone. If we didn't have this other crisis, I'd send you over to SpecMat to watch them during breakoff."
Esmay was just as glad to miss that. She had heard from others about the more spectacular breakoffs, when the test sequences induced more oscillation than a faulty crystal could withstand, and shards flew with a noise that was said to shake reason.
"Let me see what you've got," Pitak said. She looked at the data Esmay had found and frowned. "I don't think this is it. The shearing force isn't enough to unseat the AG generators, and you're suggesting that it was AG instability which caused the drive failure, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"How does it model?"
"They've bumped everyone below department heads off the big computer . . . the little one said it was possible. That's why I brought it."
"Oh. Well, I don't like the modeling program on the little one for anything but pure structural layups. For this sort of thing we need the Mishnazi series . . . but I imagine they're trying to maximize their data analysis. I don't think this is likely enough to ask for the time ourselves." She looked at Esmay. "You should log off and get some sleep while you can—at least a good meal. Have you kept track of who's been to dinner?"
"No, sir, but I can do that as soon as I get back."
"Do that, then, and thanks for this . . . I think it's sabotage, myself, but D&M asked us to consider it."
Esmay nodded and withdrew with her escort, a corporal she'd yanked out of the H&A clerical section when she needed to find Pitak. She hated feeling useless. Of course she should eat; of course she should be making sure that everyone in the section did. But . . . she wanted to do more.
She had just reached Pitak's office and started checking on the whereabouts of all the personnel under her command when the comm beeped at her. It was Pitak.
"Right in the middle of a crisis and they have to short me. Suiza, what have you been doing to get the admirals interested in you?"
"Nothing that I know of," said Esmay.
"Well, you're to report to Admiral Dossignal's office immediately, and the note to me says not to expect you back any time soon. It never fails. I get someone trained to the point where they can do me some good, and the brass taketh away."
"Sorry, Major," Esmay said, before remembering that she wasn't supposed to apologize. She thought of Barin with a pang. Was he still alive? Was he . . . all right?
"Better get going," Pitak said. "And if you have a chance, let me know what's going on. There's an odd feeling in the ship."
"Yes, sir."
In the admiral's outer office, Commander Atarin was watching for her. "Ah—Lieutenant Suiza. Good. We're going directly to a secure meeting room in T-1; our escort will meet us at the lift tube."
"Sir, may I ask—"
"Not until we're there. And don't look alarmed; you aren't in trouble and we don't want to scare anyone."
"Yes, sir."
Two armed pivot-majors, with Security patches, waited by the lift tubes. "Commander, the captain says it would be better to avoid the tubes," one of them said. Esmay saw the sheen of perspiration on his face.
"Something happened?"
"I can't say, sir," the man said. He was breathing a bit too fast.
"Let's go, then." Esmay and Commander Atarin followed as he led them around the core to the base of T-1. The wide passageway was busier than usual, as if others were avoiding the lift tubes and slideways. They had five decks of ladders to climb; when they emerged from the last, Esmay saw another pair of security guards, these with their weapons in hand, outside a secured hatch. A portable ID booth had been set up nearby, and Esmay noticed the heavy gray boxes and cables of a full-strength blanket system positioned along the bulkhead. Whatever this was about, it was being kept as secure as possible from intrusion.
She and Atarin both went through a complete ID check, retinal scans, palmprints, and blood test. Then the guards at the door checked them in.
Inside, the medium-sized conference room was edged with more scan-blanketing equipment; in the center, a cluster of officers leaned over a large table with a 3-D model of Koskiusko on it. Esmay already knew Admirals Dossignal and Livadhi by sight, as well as Captain Hakin, but she had not met the lean gray-haired full commander who was introduced as Wraith's captain, or his Exec, Lieutenant Commander Frees. Another lieutenant commander named Bowry, who wore no ship patch, but had a collar-pin indicating he was in the Senior Technical Schools for some course. What was this?
"Gentlemen." That was Admiral Dossignal, now seating himself at one end of the table. Esmay saw that places had been prepared, with nametags . . . hers near the far end of the table. She sat just as the others did.
"As you know," Dossignal said, even before the last chair slid back into place, "we are in a difficult situation here. In a few minutes, you'll have a chance to review the details of that situation, but the first thing you need to know is that you are all immediately relieved of your former assignments. You are assigned, under my direct command, to a difficult and dangerous mission; this is the first of the meetings you will hold to plan the execution of this mission." He paused, as if for comment, but no one was unwise enough to make any. "You also need to know that Captain Hakin is not in agreement with the aim of this mission, and plans to file a letter of protest. I respect his moral courage in so expressing his disagreement, and his loyalty, which has allowed him to cooperate even under protest."
Esmay glanced at the captain, who went from beet-red to pale in the course of this.
"I take full responsibility," Admiral Dossignal went on, "for what is done here, and its outcome. I have so informed Captain Hakin, and have so stipulated in the official log. Is that clear?"
He waited until everyone had nodded.
"Good. Now: our mission is to capture a Bloodhorde ship, and using that and Wraith, successfully defend this ship from capture. You are the officers who will command elements involved in this mission, so you are here to plan it."
"But Wraith's crippled," said someone—a lieutenant commander whose name Esmay had already forgotten.
"Correct. Wraith's drives are
dismounted and she cannot maneuver. But she can be trolled out to the drive test cradle, where her weapons can come to bear on either the Bloodhorde ships or Koskiusko, as need requires."
"Koskiusko . . ." someone murmured too audibly.
"If capture appears inevitable, Koskiusko must be destroyed. Its capability must not fall into Bloodhorde hands—nor must its thousands of skilled technicians."
Esmay felt the heavy silence in the room. She supposed the others had worked through this equation before: the Bloodhorde had never been known to free or exchange prisoners, though a few had been rescued from appalling conditions. Thus a quick death—or relatively quick—would be a mercy compared to slavery on one of the Aethar's World planets. But to contemplate the annihilation of so many of their own . . .
"We believe—I believe—that there is a chance to defend this ship and prevent those deaths," Dossignal said. "It's not a good chance, but it is a chance. You are the ones best suited to carry it out. We do not know how much time we have; let's not waste any."
With that the planning session began in earnest. Esmay had never been involved in mission planning before; she said nothing and listened, wondering how she fit into this. Admiral Dossignal outlined his ideas, then assigned officers to specific tasks. "Lieutenant Suiza," he said finally. "Except for the crew of Wraith, you have the most recent, and in some ways the most valuable, combat experience."
Esmay could feel them all staring at her; her breath caught. "Sir, the admiral knows I was only—"
He cut her off. "This is no time for humility, Lieutenant. You are the only officer we've got who has actually fought inside a ship. And you commanded Despite, with remarkable results. I'm not assigning you to command the ship we hope to capture—there's a more senior and more experienced officer—but I am calling on your knowledge of intraship combat."
The Serrano Connection Page 31
