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.