by Rob Howell
“More than you know, Chief. And please tell Captain Allnut it’s time to get back to Earth.”
He clicked his comm.
I have never been so happy to be weightless as I was when I floated into the African Queen.
* * * * *
Chapter 23 – Capt. Eric Gonzalez
EMS Algonquin
Maquon System
“Lieutenant Wainwright?” Spacer Lucas Williams asked, looking frustrated.
“Yes, Williams?” The Algonquin’s executive officer, Mike Wainwright, walked over to the sensor station.
“Something’s not right. I think I have a bogey, but none of our sensors are registering it properly. I’ve run the diagnostics, and they say the system is fine, but I’ve got this weird reading.” The lieutenant leaned in. He ran a finger across the screen.
“It’s not that, sir. I tried it too. I even used the screen cleaner.” He blushed. “I didn’t want to look stupid.”
Wainwright grinned. “Neither do I. Did you run it through all the filters?”
“Yes. I ran every bit of data from the passive sensors through them. That’s part of why I’m confused. It’s solid on a huge range of the EM spectrum.” The spacer slid through the different filters to show the officer.
“That’s odd.”
“Really odd, sir. That’s why I think it’s a malfunction. Nothing normal would emit like that. Everything else would have spikes on various frequencies.”
“Has it moved?”
“No, sir. Minimal aspect change as we’ve accelerated. It’s essentially on our bearing to Maquon and on the ecliptic.”
“On the direct path from its L4 to the planet?
“Yes.”
“Could it be a ship in distress?” asked the XO.
“Sir, it wouldn’t radiate like that if it was a distress call or a major engine malfunction.”
“True. Could the signal be jammed or otherwise affected by ECM?”
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t seem to be jammed, or we’d see the power levels vary as it worked against the jammer. It doesn’t seem to be red or blue-shifted like it would if someone tried to filter it.”
“When did you spot it?”
“About five minutes ago.” Williams pointed at a counter on the screen. “It was so odd I tagged it as a potential bogey, even though it didn’t fit any profile.”
“Good. Was it there all along or did it just show up?”
“I went back through the sensor recordings. I synced the timer to its initial appearance.”
“Interesting. Did the computer give you a range estimate or has the lack of aspect change made it difficult to triangulate?”
“It’s not close. Over a light-minute.”
Wainwright crossed his arms and tapped his chin with his finger. “And you already ran the diags.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Williams. He displayed the detailed report on his monitor.
The XO thought about it for a moment, then looked at the command chair.
“Is there a problem, XO?” asked Captain Eric Gonzalez.
“A strange signal is coming through Spacer Williams’ passives.”
“Bump it over to my screen.”
Gonzalez looked at the readout. “That is odd. Mr. Williams, have you tried any actives?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He stepped over to the console. “Tell me everything you’ve done and all that you’ve seen.”
Williams went through the list.
“Well done, Spacer.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gonzalez glanced at the chronometers. “We’ve been in-system for almost ten minutes, right?”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Wainwright.
The captain tapped in a series of numbers. “If we assume it’s a ship about two light minutes away on a least-time course between the re-entry point and Maquon, it would’ve seen us and reacted at about that time.”
“You’re right.” Wainwright nodded.
Gonzalez thought for a long minute. “Status board?” he finally asked.
“All systems green except for Point Defense Mount Alfa,” replied the XO.
“Which you’ve got people working on already.”
“Yes, sir. It had a software glitch from the new updates.”
“Updates!” Gonzalez snorted. He glanced at the sensor station. “Could that be the problem here?”
“No, sir,” answered Williams. “The last update is a couple months old, and this is the first issue we’ve seen.”
“Have the techs scour the whole computer system, just in case, Mr. Wainwright.”
“Aye, aye sir.” The XO tapped in the order.
“Sparks, have we heard anything from the Maquon base?”
“Just got the automated message receipt from our system entry download,” replied Ensign Morley from the comm station.
“Let me know the moment we get anything else.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about civvie traffic?”
Morley cycled through the frequencies. “Nothing special, sir. Their orbital traffic control is green.”
“Williams, what is Maquon’s orbital traffic like?”
The sensor tech examined the readings. “Looks like there are a bunch of merchies.”
“Any warships?”
“No, sir.”
“Right. What are the merchies doing?”
“Looks like they’re in orbit, sir. I can’t see shuttles from here, though.”
“They’re not fleeing?”
“A couple are leaving orbit and heading to the stargate, but most of them are staying put.”
“That’s good news,” commented Wainwright.
“Probably.” Gonzalez tapped his chin. “Guns, take us to general quarters.”
As the startled tactical officer complied, Williams looked up at his captain. “Sir, it’s just a malfunction.”
“You’re probably right, Williams. But even if you are, it doesn’t hurt to have drills periodically. This reason is better than if I didn’t like what they served for dinner.”
The spacer chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
Gonzalez returned to the command chair. “Let’s give this a wide berth for now. Helm, prepare to make our heading 240 by 120. I want under the ecliptic. Guns, prepare a decoy to separate and continue on our current course.”
“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Charles Smythe turned to his board.
“A decoy, sir?” the XO asked. “You’re more bothered by this than I’d’ve expected. Do you know something I don’t?”
“Know? Nothing for sure.” Gonzalez’s face turned grim. “But what are we carrying?”
“Troops, sir.”
“Yes. Reinforcements and replacements destined for Peninnah where one of our companies just got bushwhacked. It makes me tetchy.” He smiled. “And we haven’t had a live drone exercise in a long time.”
“I can see that, sir.” Wainwright grinned. “You’re the one who’s going to have to justify the decoy’s expense to Edmonds.”
Gonzalez nodded but didn’t smile. “Get CPO Farquhar up here. Have him and Williams run that signal through the files. See if they can ID a pattern and match it to something in our database.”
Wainwright’s grin faded. “Right on it, sir.” He walked back over to Williams and gave the orders.
“Good.” The captain stared at the viewscreen with narrowed eyes.
After a moment, the spacer at the helm spoke. “Course laid in.”
“Decoy tied to the course change and programmed,” added the tac officer.
“Thank you, Guns.” Gonzalez turned to the helmsman. “Execute.”
The Algonquin’s bow lowered in relation to the ecliptic, and the ship veered starboard. There was a small thump in the ship as the decoy launched.
“Cut all engines and run silent,” commanded Gonzalez after they reached the new course. “Has that signal moved relative to our position?”
“Not that I can see
without running the algorithms,” said Williams. “We’ve barely shifted our course yet.”
“Do you have anything better to do than run the data through the algorithms until the chief gets here?” Gonzalez’s voice was mild, but Williams hastened to comply.
The captain studied his command screen. “Helm, at three light minutes under the ecliptic, level us off.”
“Aye, aye sir.”
“Sparks, have you had any comm traffic with Maquon orbital control yet?”
“Orbital control, sir? Not yet.”
“Still no response from the base?”
“No, sir.”
“How long since we got the message receipt?”
Morley glanced down. “Sixteen minutes.”
“What time is it at the base?”
“Ummm…,” Morley tapped his computer keys. “Looks like 1527, sir.”
“Middle of the afternoon, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gonzalez stood. “Guns, you have the conn. Stay at GQ for now. XO, to my ready room.”
“I have the conn, sir,” replied Smythe. He moved to the captain’s chair as Gonzalez and Wainwright stepped into a room next to the bridge.
In the ready room, Gonzalez took a deep breath. “XO, something’s wrong.”
“How do you know, sir? It’s only been twenty minutes since they got our system entry download. We’ve often had to wait longer than that.”
“You’re right. I don’t know, I suppose. But I know.” Gonzalez’s eyes were on a distant time and place.
After a moment, Wainwright cleared his throat. “What do you think it could be?”
“I can only assume something is wrong at the base. Worse, there could be a trap waiting for us somewhere in the system.” He smiled tightly. “The good news is that if I’m wrong, we’re giving our crew valuable experience. If I’m not, we just gave them a chance.”
“Makes sense, sir. Now what?”
“You saw our heading. I want another decoy drone programmed when we start to level off. I’m going to have it hold at two light minutes below the ecliptic and keep ahead of us by a light second or so. That’ll make us hard to find, even if they see it.”
“Can do, sir.”
“Then, we’re going to pick through every bit of EM transmission from the planet as we coast along. I want to know about the hottest thing going on Maquon social media. I want to know what their pets are doing. I want to know about the best new restaurants. Everything.”
“That’s a lot of stuff to go through. Williams is going to earn his pay.”
“As will Farquhar, Morley, and all the comm techs.” He paused. “Come to think of it, let’s double-check everything. Have them put a scanner head on the second drone. When you program it, have it watch the Algonquin for any emissions. Let’s make sure we’re not leaking something without realizing it.”
“If you’re right, that would be bad.” Wainwright tapped his pad. “I’ll make sure we have a solid tightbeam link with the drone.”
“Set it for burst mode. Even passive scans will drop its endurance. I want it live for as long as possible. Stagger the scans, too. One immediately, then one per day, randomly timed.”
“I’ll let you know exactly how much endurance it’ll have, but it won’t be more than a week.”
“Hopefully that’s enough.” Gonzalez waited until the XO finished entering his notes. “Speaking of time, how much food and reactor mass do we have?”
Wainwright checked his pad. “Enough food, even with the troopers, to stay out here for several months. We had full tanks of F11 and reactor mass when we left Sol, so we can keep the reactors going for at least that long since we’re not jumping into hyperspace.”
“Good. Let me know when we’re down to a month of supplies, but know that we’ll stay out here as long as it takes.”
“We could turn around and go back to Earth.”
Gonzalez scratched his chin. “That’s a thought, but I don’t like it. Let’s assume you’re right and I’m paranoid. It would take nineteen days to get there and back. That’s too much wasted time.”
“Send a GalNet message?”
“We probably should, but let’s hold off until we know more. Get with Ensign Morley. Have him continuously download our status to a prepped message.”
“Yes, sir.” Wainwright tapped his pad and looked up. “Sir, the troopers aren’t going to like being out here for months.”
“I’ve been cursed by troopers before, XO. I’ll live.” He turned to the comm unit on the table. “Captain Pedersen, to the captain’s ready room.”
Wainwright’s laugh was bitter. “I’ll get with the life support crew. They’ll have to work extra shifts to keep the air and water scrubbed.”
“Double the sensor tech rotation. Let’s make sure we have two pairs of eyes watching at all times.”
“That’s a lot to pile on the sensor techs, sir. Double shifts plus tearing through the planetary emissions.”
“You’re right. Pull spacers from other ratings to serve as the extra eyes. We don’t need experts to stare at a screen, as long as they pay attention. Offer cross-training credits. Might as well give the experience to those who want it.”
“Aye, aye sir. Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. Captain Pedersen might have some suggestions.”
Captain Mark Pedersen appeared at the door and saluted.
“Excellent. Have a seat, Captain,” said Gonzalez
He settled in. “What’s going on, Captain?”
“Something odd is happening with our sensors.”
“Odd?”
“Yes. There’s a section of space that isn’t showing up clearly. It started when we entered the system.”
“You suspect something is wrong?”
“Yes, I do. I don’t really know if there is, but with what happened at Cimaron 283133-6A, Peninnah, and Houston, I can’t help but wonder.”
Pedersen tented his fingers. “We wouldn’t be the only Human merc unit that’s been targeted.”
“Yeah, that bothers me too.”
“What do you need from me?”
“I’m going to keep us away from Maquon until I’m convinced it’s not a trap.”
“Or until we have a chance to strike, if it is.”
“That, too.” Gonzalez agreed.
“How long will that be?” asked Pedersen.
“We have food and reactor mass for several months,” said Wainwright.
“Even with all the replacements on board?”
“Yes.”
Pedersen grimaced. “They’re generally new recruits and not used to being on a ship. We’ve seen more than our share of spacesickness.”
“I know, but I’d rather they be sick than dead.”
“I’ll let them know those are their options.”
“Any issue with the Cochkala?”
“Some, but most of his recruit platoon is also on board, and they’ve got his back.”
“Good. Troops are bad enough when they’re bored without something like that to make things worse.”
Pedersen leaned back. “Maybe I can help with that. What’s the worst case? Someone might have taken our base on Maquon, and there’s a trap waiting for us?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I’ll start working on atmospheric insertion techniques. It’s not something we practice as much as some companies, and for most, it’ll be a bit of a shift.” He snorted. “I’d be shocked if those on the Algonquin have had anything more than minimal drop training from basic at West Rocks. It’ll keep them from getting bored and irritable.”
“Good thought. Also, we have our usual store of re-entry pods, but I can’t remember the last time we checked their statuses.”
“Armorers get bored, too, sir.”
Gonzalez chuckled. “So do spacers. I’ll have Farquhar detail some to help out.”
“How many drop pods are on board?”
Wainwright checked his pad. “Ov
er two hundred.”
“So, assuming they’re in working shape, we have more than enough for the eighty-some troopers I have. I’ll have to use several of those pods in training, though.”
“Outside the ship?” asked Gonzalez.
“That’d be the best.”
“We’re a hole in space, Captain. Let’s keep it that way. Schedule the extravehicular work toward the end of your training cycle. Any emissions, even suit radios, increase our risk.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir, I’ll get the dropship pilots working on their hot LZ skills in the simulators.” Wainwright tapped his pad. “We haven’t done a hot insertion in years.”
“We’ll need time in those sims, too.” Pedersen leaned forward. “These are mostly recruits, and they’ll need many hours of sim time before I’ll contemplate sending them to battle.”
“Makes sense. We’ll set up a 24-hour rotation.”
“Start with the pilots. It’ll take a day or two until I get things organized enough to start scheduling troopers.”
“Got it.”
Pedersen leaned back. “I could detail Huddleson to help program the sims. He’s been in half a dozen merc units over the years. I bet he remembers a few hot drops.”
“I bet he does. That would be useful,” said Wainwright with a chuckle.
“Definitely.” Gonzalez shrugged. “I’ve never commanded a hot drop, and it’s been a long time since I had to go through that training. We could all use some refreshers.”
“Will do, sir.” Pedersen squared his shoulders. “We aren’t going to be as good at it as Cartwright’s Cavaliers, but give me a month or so, and we’ll do just fine.”
“Tenacious and versatile, Captain.”
“That we are.” Pedersen rose, saluted, and left. Wainwright followed him.
Gonzalez returned to the bridge. Morley and Williams were deep in a discussion.
“Find something, gentlemen?”
Williams looked up. “No sir, but the fuzzy spot is gone.”
“Interesting. What was its heading?”
“None, sir, it just disappeared.”
“Just like it appeared. It was just a point in the sky? No aspect change?”
“No, sir.”
“So, it was almost like turning a light on and off.”
“Yes, sir, exactly like that.”
