by Paul Rix
The corporal's hands hovered over the controls, waiting for Delta's orders.
"Target that gap. Three torpedoes."
Streaks of light flashed across the screen, followed almost instantly by bright explosions as the powerful torpedoes hit their target. A thick cloud of dust and debris obscured the hangar door for thirty seconds as Delta waited impatiently to inspect the damage. Her eyes widened as a fully intact hangar door slowly appeared through the debris.
"What did you do?" she screamed.
Rankin anxiously studied the data in front of her. "The ark's rate of rotation has accelerated," she said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. "You can see the three craters we created, just above the door."
"What are you waiting for? Fire again, and this time allow for the rotational acceleration."
This time, the twisted remains of the hangar door cartwheeled away from the ark as the force of the detonations ripped it from its hinges. Rankin allowed herself a smile as she spotted the landing craft with damage to its hull within the shadows of the exposed hangar.
"Your Grace, the rate of rotation is still increasing. It's becoming more difficult to compensate and maintain our position relative to the hangar."
"Then continue firing. Destroy that landing craft."
Chapter 52
Captain Maxwell felt the ship shudder and for one moment feared that the thrusters had exploded after all. She waited for the wall behind her to implode and suck her out into space. When nothing happened, she checked the systems’ data and was thankful to see that the thrusters were continuing to operate within safety margins.
"Delta must have started her attack," she said.
"Does that mean Garrett has failed?"
"I honestly don't know, Sakura. Let's focus on our attempts to save this ship."
The effects of the explosion felt distant, but there was no way to know from her current position. Flicking on the comms channel, she said, "Luke, did you monitor Britannic being attacked?"
"Yes, captain. There were several minor explosions close together. They have destroyed the hangar door. Delta must be targeting the landing craft."
"That's our only escape route," said Takahashi. "They're making sure we remain here."
"Possibly," Maxwell admitted. "Although they must know the landing craft doesn't have the supplies or range to make it to any habitable world."
"I doubt Delta's considered that," O'Brien added. "She seems hell-bent on the total destruction of Britannic."
The few minutes she had spent with Delta were enough to convince Maxwell that O'Brien's assessment was correct. She had seen no one so blindly focused on a single outcome. Except maybe for Grand President Trask. It bordered on an obsession.
"The landing craft is too small a target," she said, talking aloud to no one in particular. "Delta doesn't want to destroy Britannic one piece at a time. She wants to obliterate us."
"So why attack the hangar?" asked O'Brien.
"Because it's the thinnest part of the hull," Takahashi said. "It's the easiest way to get to us. If she destroys the landing craft, the bulkhead between it and the central core is only a couple of meters thick."
"Even more important to make it as difficult as possible for Delta to target that section of the ship."
"Thanks, Luke. I don't suppose you've heard from Garrett."
"Nothing so far, captain." O'Brien's tone was enough for Maxwell to know he was also fearing the worst. It was likely they were on their own now.
Resuming her focus on defending the ship, she could feel the early effects of acceleration caused by the thrusters. A slight dizziness and the sensation that the floor was pushing up against her feet were the first sensations. Assuming the thrusters continued to operate, and the ship remained in one piece, it wouldn't be long before the centrifugal effect from the rotation simulated the effects of gravity on Earth. She remembered how that had felt on Garrett's ship. It wasn't pleasant.
"How much stress can the ship take?"
Takahashi frowned. "I don't think they ever tested PEAs for this eventuality. Britannic has shown herself to be versatile, but it was designed to travel in a single plane. The reinforced central core has some flexibility to allow for the shock of atmospheric entry and landing. However, what we're doing is applying lateral loads that no one anticipated."
"I understand, Sakura. You know this ship better than anyone else on board. What's your best guess?"
"Before the ship tears itself apart? I wouldn't want to go faster than one full rotation every two minutes."
Maxwell closed her eyes to calculate what the speed would be at the extreme ends of the ship. "We're looking at the outer edge's velocity being one hundred meters per second. Surely that will make it harder for Delta to hit the targets she wants."
"But how long do you think we can keep this up?" said Takahashi. "We're simply delaying the inevitable."
Maxwell suspected she was right. If Garrett was dead, then no one knew Britannic existed. She was one ancient ship with only her immense size as the saving grace. The chances of being discovered in the following days were infinitesimally small. And, in the meantime, Delta was free to do whatever she wanted to achieve her goal.
Summoning up a level of courage she didn't feel, she replied, "Maybe so. But we're not giving up. We owe it to everyone on this ship to do all we can to save them."
Takahashi nodded before grasping the console as another set of vibrations rattled through Britannic.
Chapter 53
The emergency lighting flickered briefly before casting a steady, but faint, orange glow. Garrett's eyes took several seconds to adjust to the dim light although there was little to see.
All the screens and consoles in the control room were blank. Raptor was dead and Garrett wondered why he was still alive.
A bitter smell of burned insulation hung in the air, stinging his nostrils. Through the force field, showers of sparks were flying from broken cabling, enabling him to make out the devastation in the corridor leading to the rest of the ship. Debris and other assorted objects floated along the corridor, bouncing off walls and one another, spinning in a hypnotic ballet.
"Computer, damage assessment."
Silence.
Garrett knew Raptor's computer prioritized the emergency power supply to operate the force field and there was no telling how long it would last. The ship had taken a severe beating, and it was likely the attack had damaged or destroyed several power cells. He was trapped with the prospect of a slow, lingering death from asphyxiation.
Diverting power to the computer would deplete the emergency batteries more quickly but if he was going to die anyway, what difference would a few minutes make?
He had to know if Britannic was still in one piece.
After one minute of hunting around under the console, Garrett located the emergency control unit and activated the ship's computer. The view screen sprang to life immediately, along with the main control display in front of him.
"Computer, give me a quick damage assessment. Priority systems only."
The situation was as bad as he'd imagined. "How long before the emergency force field fails?"
Twelve minutes made little difference. Garrett was keen to get back into the fight. "Are exterior sensors active? If so, locate Britannic and Scorpion."
The view screen flickered to reveal a hazy image of Britannic. Garrett was amazed to see it was still in one piece and that its rotation rate had increased dramatically. "Clever girl," he whispered to himself.
Raptor's momentum had kept it traveling on a trajectory that was parallel with Britannic, although it had dropped back several hundred meters. "Are you able to find Scorpion?"
The image on the screen magnified to show that Scorpion was near the front end of the ark and appeared to be trying to match the rotational speed. A bright laser flashed from Delta's ship, resulting in a small cloud of debris erupting from the ark's hull.
"Computer, focus on where Scorpion fired."
The image changed once more, this time showing Britannic's hull with some recent battle scars. Garrett cursed as he saw the exposed hangar area and the nose of the landing craft.
"Do we have any ability to maneuver?"
Not great, but he could work with that. "Fire them for five seconds. I want to catch up with Britannic."
The ability to move closer allowed him to formulate the outline of a plan. Its success relied solely on Delta focusing on Britannic. And an awful lot of luck.
***
Delta was feeling as if all her luck had deserted her. As she strode back and forth around the bridge, Britannic was proving to be far more stubborn than she had hoped. As each minute passed, she could hear Frederick's voice in her head, mocking her inability to complete the mission. How could she return to her mother if she failed? What world would she be returning to if Frederick's threat was genuine?
"What the hell, corporal!" she screamed as yet another salvo of laser blasts missed their mark. "It's an enormous target. Why can't you hit it?"
"The weapons system is struggling to compensate for the speed. Scorpion's thrusters are constantly compensating for the rotation and are struggling to keep up."
"Move in closer. What's the risk?"
"Your Grace, although Scorpion is a highly sophisticated vessel, it's normally operated by at least three people. I've routed all controls into my console. I don't think you fully appreciate what's involved merely to hold station, let alone hit a target."
"What I don't appreciate is failure and insubordination, both of which you're showing a clear grasp of. I expect results, not excuses. Continue to target the landing craft and destroy it."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Thoughts of what devious acts Frederick may carry out crept into her mind, fueling her anger and frustration. Rankin was proving to be not up to the job at hand. The whole situation was becoming impossible.
In a fit of rage, she grabbed the corporal harshly by the back of her neck and leaned in so that her face was centimeters away. "Listen, soldier. I desperately need to return to the presidential palace. The very future of the Federation lies in your clumsy hands. As we speak, my brother is planning a coup against the president. So, I hope you understand my frustration at your ineptitude. For the memory of Commander Stone and the rest of your colleagues, focus and get this job done."
Ignoring Delta's spittle running down her face, the soldier stiffened. "Yes, of course, Your Grace. I will uphold my oath to defend the Federation."
"Correct answer." Delta stood up straight and took a deep breath to recover her composure. Seconds later, Britannic's landing craft took a direct hit and exploded into thousands of pieces.
The resulting debris field filled the hangar for several seconds before centrifugal forces directed it out and along the surface of Britannic's hull in a steady stream of spinning metal, glass, and plastic that then disappeared into space.
Delta gripped the arm of her chair as she waited to see what remained inside the hangar. However, the interior was in shadow that hid everything in a blanket of blackness. The corporal switched the view to infra-red, revealing the interior bulkhead. At its center, the airlock with wreckage from the landing craft attached to it was clearly visible. This obstacle was all that stood between her and success.
***
Maxwell felt the vibration through her feet. It was far more intense than any of the previous explosions, and it wasn't difficult to guess what had caused it.
"They've destroyed the landing craft," O'Brien confirmed. "It will be the forward bulkhead next."
She could hear the despair in his voice. "Thanks, Luke. We knew it would only be a matter of time. But we're still not going to make it easy for them."
"There are dozens of warning lights on the main control console," said O'Brien. "I do not know what they all mean, but it can't be good. At least I was able to switch the alarms off."
Maxwell glanced at Takahashi for an explanation.
"I've similar warnings in front of me too, captain," she replied calmly. "They're confirming torsional stresses have exceeded safety parameters along the full length of Britannic. I don't know how much more rotational load the ship can take."
"We have no choice but to continue. If we slow down, we'll be dead."
"How is destroying ourselves any better?"
Maxwell shrugged. She had no answer to Takahashi's question other than she wasn't ready to surrender. Her other immediate concern was how much longer she could stand. The growing rate of rotation was causing her legs to ache. Her muscles were screaming at the effort they were being asked to exert.
"What are the current revolutions per minute?"
Takahashi took several seconds to calculate the data in front of her. "It's approaching one revolution every three minutes and thirty seconds and I don't think Britannic can take much more of the stress. They did not design even the thrusters to fire for this length of time."
Maxwell had noticed the forward thruster's pressure and temperature creeping up higher into the red zone. She knew she was using up all her luck in this vain attempt to survive a few extra minutes, but there was no choice. She had never believed in miracles, but that was what it would now take to save them all.
Chapter 54
"Computer, there are three spatial displacement mines on board. Will they be able to penetrate Scorpion's hull or at least incapacitate its propulsion unit?"
Only fifty meters! That was much closer than Garrett had expected. It was going to take all the skills he had to get that close without being detected.
"Is there a risk of also destroying Britannic?"
None of that mattered if he could not gain access to the SDMs to activate them. He cursed himself for leaving them at the opposite end of the ship.
"Can you extend the emergency forcefield as far as the airlock?"
Dammit! Those SDMs are my last chance.
Garrett left his seat to get a better view of the corridor and the obstacles he would have to bypass to reach the SDMs. It would take at least ninety seconds to retrieve them and return to the bridge. Assuming they were near where he had left them. It was far too long to survive in the near vacuum outside the force field.
"Is there any residual atmosphere or pressure in the rest of the ship?"
The situation was as he'd feared but there was another alternative. His spacesuit was in his cabin, less than ten meters from the bridge.
"Can you let me through the force field without losing the bridge's atmospheric integrity?"
"Great. Do that and allow me through the force field. Monitor my progress so that you let me back. I can't afford any delays. Is that clear?
"
Garrett instinctively knew this was probably one of the worst ideas he had ever acted on. No one voluntarily exposed themselves to the vacuum of space, and he could not think of anyone who had survived the experience. But he was as good as dead anyway; the worst he could do was to die a few minutes sooner. Without giving it another thought, he took a shallow breath and dived through the forcefield, receiving a small electric shock for his troubles.
He had braced himself for a freezing sensation and the air to be sucked from his lungs. Instead, he could feel extreme pressure on his rib cage as his lungs expanded in the low pressure of space but no sensation of temperature. Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself through the corridor as fast as he could, floating past debris and pushing it aside in his haste.
With the help of a small flashlight, he quickly found his spacesuit floating in the middle of his cabin. He grabbed it and made his way back the way he had come. By now, the pain in his chest was almost unbearable, and he figured he'd been outside the force field for almost thirty seconds. Every movement caused sharp stabbing pains to shoot through his chest.
To equalize the pressure in his lungs, he slowly exhaled. It was a mistake. The expelled air condensed in front of his face and a thin layer of ice froze his eyeballs in place, blinding him.
Resisting the urge to panic and on the edge of blacking out from oxygen starvation, Garrett felt his way along the corridor with a heightened sense of urgency.
Passing through the forcefield, he gasped for air before wiping his eyes clear. His entire body felt as if it wanted to explode, and it was all he could do not to vomit.
Allowing himself only thirty seconds to recover, he deftly climbed into his spacesuit, glancing at the view screen as Scorpion continued its assault on Britannic.
The mines were not too far from where he'd left them, close to the airlock. Thankfully, they had not been sucked into space through a large three-meter-wide hole in the galley's wall.
Returning to the bridge, he once again instructed the computer to fire the thrusters for another five seconds. Just enough to catch Britannic without being noticed by those on board Scorpion. Or so he hoped.
