Conqueror

by Richard Tongue

  “Ariadne hasn’t completed a hyperjump in three years,” Bishop said. “It usually takes weeks to make the preparations required, and you want us to make this attempt in minutes?”

  “The sooner the better. Right now we’re in a good location, gravitationally and strategically. The element of surprise is about the only thing we’ve got left, and if we don’t make full use of it, we’re finished.” He paused, then added, “Dan Nguyen’s been on several deep-space expeditions. He knows what’s involved, and right now he’s your Chief Engineer. That gives you an advantage. And we’re not talking about a long jump. Just a billion miles or so.”

  “It doesn’t make that much difference…”

  “Except in terms of power consumption.” Tapping a monitor, he added, “Even with the ship in the condition it is now, I’m pretty sure that you’ve enough in the batteries for the jump. And you said yourself that the hyperdrive was one of the few systems on the ship that was actually working.”

  “Probably because the Terrans didn’t think we’d be stupid enough to try and use it,” Bishop replied. “This isn’t just a question of raw power, Commander. That would be the least of our problems. We already did enough damage to the ship just leaving Mitchell Station that she’s probably irreparable. If we attempt to make a hyperjump, even a short one, then the stresses on the ship will be extreme enough that we’d probably end up coming out the other end in pieces. Possibly down to our own component particles.”

  “There are things we can do about that.” Nguyen replied. “The crew can make for the shuttles, locked down and secure, and we’d have to have the pilots in their fighters anyway, ready for immediate launch at the other end. We’d only need a small crew here, in Astrogation, and we’d have an emergency shuttle standing by. The risk to the ship is severe, I’ll grant you that, but the risk to life is probably no greater than if we stay here and try and run the blockade.” He paused, smiled, and added, “Naturally, I’ll be one of the people here in Astrogation for the jump.”

  “Once you get through to the other side,” Bishop protested, “you’ll have more problems. We can charge your fighters, sure, but we don’t have any missiles for you. Even with the two new pilots, you’ll be outnumbered and outgunned. The interceptors will cut you to pieces.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Winter replied with a smile. “As it happens, I think you’re giving those pilots rather too much credit. So far, they’ve displayed little ability to react to changing situations. They’re trained by the book, and don’t have anywhere near the experience we’ve got. Besides, we’ll be jumping right into the middle of them. Their first reaction will be to fire at the ship, not her fighters, and in all frankness, by that point a few more missile impacts on Ariadne won’t matter very much.”

  “I still don’t like this idea, Commander, I don’t like it at all. You’re asking more of this ship and her crew than it is reasonable to expect, especially given the circumstances.”

  “Lieutenant, I’m afraid this is not a request or a suggestion. This is an order.” She glared at him, nodded, and he added, “How long will it take to get the rest of the Theseus survivors aboard?”

  “Eight minutes. We’ll need at least that long to prepare the hyperdrive for the transfer. Should I inform Commodore Tyler of our intentions?”

  Shaking his head, he replied, “We’re on a communications blackout, Lieutenant, and we’re going to have to stay that way. Even if she didn’t have enough problems of her own right now, I don’t want to run any risk of spoiling our surprise. One courier beating us to Golgotha could ruin our whole day.” He looked around the battered control room, and said, “I know what I’m asking you to do, Lieutenant, and I know what the consequences are going to be. If there was any other alternative, I’d take it. I just don’t believe that there is. If you can think of something else…”

  “I can’t, sir,” she replied, patting the hull. “Ariadne will do what she has to do, sir. We’ll get you to Golgotha. Somehow. I’ll have my people transfer all the emergency stores we can into the shuttles. It’ll make them a little on the slow side, but if you don’t defeat those fighters, they’ll be shot down anyway.”

  “Agreed.” Clapping her on the shoulder, she said, “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir, I think I’m going to need it. I think we all will.”

  “We’re owed a bit, I think,” Nguyen added. “Good hunting, Jack.”

  Winter nodded, turned, and walked down the corridor, leaving the others in Astrogation as he made his way to this fighter. Bradley was waiting in the corridor, turning to look at him as he approached, the technician she had been talking to making his way towards his emergency station.

  “I heard your plan,” she said. “It’s a good one. It has a chance. And I’ve always wanted to see Golgotha.”

  Nodding, he replied, “You did damn good out there. More than anyone could have expected, given your time in service. When you finally get around to attending the Academy, you’re going to shine.” He paused, then said, “I’m sorry about Dimitri. I don’t know what the hell could have gotten into him.”

  “Me either. Doctor Farrell thinks that he might have had some sort of a breakdown. He’s completely unresponsive at the moment. Though he’s the least of our problems right now.” She paused, then asked, “I feel numb, Dad. It’s as though I don’t feel anything, as though it’s all just washing over me. I don’t know what I expected from my first time in action, but this isn’t it. I’ve watched friends die, I’ve seen our ships destroyed, and I’m just…”

  He nodded as she tailed off, then said, “It’s not that unusual. You’ve been operating on adrenaline for the last couple of days, and I’m going to guess that you haven’t had any sleep in that time at all, maybe just a few snatched ration packs on the run.” He stepped forward, a warm smile on his face, and said, “Your mind is doing everything it can to keep you going right now, kiddo, and that means that all of those feelings have been pushed down, deep inside, until you’ve got a chance to rest for a while and deal with them. It doesn’t mean you don’t have them. It just means that you aren’t experiencing the effects yet. I went though something similar during the fighting with the Tartarus League, when I was fresh out of flight school.”

  With a sigh, he said, “We went up, six of us. I was flying wingman for, I guess, my mentor. A Flight Officer who’d taken me under his wing when I reached the squadron, tried to hammer out some of the crap they taught me at the Academy, got me used to what life was like in the real world, rather than the one the brass likes to conjure for itself. He was a good pilot. Not a great one, he’d have been the first to say that, but a good one.”

  His eyes distant for a moment, he continued, “It should have been an easy mission. We weren’t even supposed to fight. There had been intelligence reports that the terrorists were planning to attack some of the unmanned ore freighters operating the Ring, the asteroids orbiting Tartarus, and we were supposed to act as a deterrent. Unfortunately, one of their leaders had managed to get hold of some old shuttles, and modified them as Q-ships with concealed weaponry. We saw the shuttles, figured we might have a chance to knock out some of the terrorist leadership, make some arrests, so we closed in.”

  “You didn’t detect the weaponry until it was too late,” Bradley replied.

  “No. They’d done a good job of camouflaging it, and remember, we hadn’t gone in expecting a fight. That was the biggest mistake. My friend, Reggie, and I were in the lead, and we closed in, offering them a chance to surrender. Weapons hot, but no missile lock. They didn’t even warn us. There was no reply to our signals at all. They simply launched an attack, threw everything they had at us, and there was nothing at all we could do about it.” He grimaced, and said, “Reggie didn’t even have a chance to know what hit him. He was dead in seconds. I came damn close, but I had just enough time to throw myself off course, to get away from the attack, though I took some damage from their mass drivers during closest approach.”
He sighed, then said, “I got back to the ship, Ares, actually, and we went out again.”

  “Right away?”

  “This was a step up from destroying an unmanned ore freighter, Vicky. The difference between simple destruction of property and launching an unprovoked attack on one of our ships. They’d shown their hand, and our squadron leader decided that we had to take action at once, before they slunk away into the Belt. If we’d waited for even an hour, they’d have gotten away. There are a thousand, a hundred thousand places to hide out there. We’d never have found them again. They’d killed one of our own. We took it personally.”

  “They let you go up, after what had happened?”

  “It was John Baxter. Acting Squadron Leader back then. He figured the best thing I could do was get back on the horse, so he gave me the reserve fighter and sent me out again. I felt just like you. Numb. No emotions at all, not even the same rage and anger the others were feeling. We found the terrorist base, took it out, knocked out most of the modified shuttles and even took a few prisoners into the bargain. Set those bastards back years, given what we got out of those people during interrogation.”

  “Did it ever hit home?” she asked. “The loss of your friend?”

  “I made it back to the ship, gave my report to the Intelligence Officer, went to my bunk and broke down. At one point John snuck me in a bottle of Scotch, and I finished the whole thing and lay there in a stupor for more than a day. I couldn’t get past what had happened, that he had died and I had lived, that I hadn’t felt anything at the time. It came back with a vengeance then, and no mistake, but by then, I had the luxury of time to deal with it, you see.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “Nobody ever mentioned it again, though Baxter did make sure I went through a full physical and psychological check before he’d let me go back into the black.” He paused, then said, “You’ll crash yourself, when this is over. Just be ready for it. I’m sure we can find a bottle of whisky around here somewhere.” Gesturing up the corridor, he said, “You’re going to one of the shuttles?”

  “No, I’m riding the sensors in Astrogation,” she replied. “Seems sensible to keep the same station I had for the battle. We haven’t got time to get anyone else trained and ready for the run.” She looked up at her father, and said, “If something happens, just know that I made my choice, and that I don’t have any regrets. This was my decision, not yours.”

  “I doubt your mother will see it that way.”

  With a grimace, Bradley replied, “I think I’ll be a lot safer out at Golgotha.”

  “You’re probably right about that.” He paused, then asked, “Have you let her know you’re all right?”

  “Come on, Dad, I haven’t had a chance…”

  “I’m not talking about composing a hundred-page report. Ten words should be enough. Make sure you send it off before we begin the jump, and don’t force me to make it an order.” He smiled, then added, “You know I’m right.”

  “Do I have to say it, though?” she replied with a smile. “I’ll do it, Dad. Sir.”

  Nodding, he said, “Be careful. Don’t wait around after we arrive at Golgotha. You run for the shuttle and get the hell out of this ship before it blows up. You’ve already played the hero more than I’d like today already.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s my job. Good luck, kid.”

  “Good hunting, Dad.” She snapped a quick salute, then walked down the corridor towards Astrogation, her father watching her leave for a moment before making for his fighter. Most of his squadron was gathered around the docking ports, taking their last chance for a brief cup of coffee. There were two new faces, both old veterans with the insignia of the Ninth Support Squadron on their sleeves. They belatedly saw Winter approach, snapping quickly to attention.

  “Flight Sergeant Mike Holland, sir,” the first said, snapping a salute.

  “Flight Sergeant Eddie Knox,” the second added.

  “Sergeant, is that the insignia of the chaplain’s office on your lapel?” Winter asked.

  “It is, sir. I spent my first ten years as an instructor pilot before transferring. I’ve been a chaplain’s assistant since then, but given the emergency, they decided to put me back into a cockpit again.” Looking at Holland, he added, “Dutch and I have served together for years, sir. We’ve got seven kills between us. We’re both anxious to take it to ten.”

  “I know the feeling.” Looking at the two of them he said, “How long since either of you rode fire? Excepting the action you’ve seen today?”

  “Nine years, sir. When the Senate decided to ban enlisted fighter pilots, we both declined commissions.” Knox shrugged, then said, “We were both getting kinda close to being stood down anyway, Commander.”

  Nodding, Winter replied, “I have a feeling you’ll both be getting quite a bit of flight time over the next few months, gentlemen. Senate restrictions or no, I’m glad to have you along for the ride.” Looking up at the countdown clock, he continued, “We haven’t got time for a full briefing, so we’ll have to work out our battle plan on the fly. No pun intended. We’re heading to Golgotha…” There was a brief murmur, and he continued, “…with the goal of establishing an outpost on one of the moons of that planet. There’s no safe haven anywhere in local space, so we’re going to have to make one of our own somewhere else. I am assured that there are supplies and equipment cached for our use, and I can personally vouch for the quality of the accommodations.”

  “It can’t be that simple, boss,” Dubois said, a wry smile on her face.

  “Well, there are twelve enemy interceptors waiting for us out there, all of them with the naïve idea that they’re going to prevent us from settling down on Golgotha. We’ll be emerging right in the middle of them, and as soon as we complete our hyperjump, you will immediately scramble and engage the enemy. Don’t wait for the command, don’t wait to get into formation, just head right into the thick of the action and start blowing the bastards straight to hell.” He looked around, then added, “I’m not going to pretend that this is going to be an easy mission, and I’m not going to tell you that I can guarantee victory, but I will tell you that if we fail, this will probably be the last battle of the war. The folks back home need a win. They need something to hold on to, some reason to stay in the fight. Our job is to give it to them.” He looked at the clock, then added, “Saddle up, people. This one’s going to be rough.”

  Chapter 19

  Bradley looked across at Bishop, watching as she turned off every alarm circuit, overriding the monitors one after another with a series of commands, finally standing back and looking at her handiwork with a frown on her face.

  “I think I just violated about a dozen regulations,” she said, “but as soon as we throw the switch, every single one will go off, and there won’t be a damned thing we can do about it anyway.”

  “Power systems charging now,” Nguyen added. “Lieutenant, we’re going to have to make the jump as soon as we hit the required levels. Technically we’re already running on overload, and she isn’t going to hold the strain for long.” He looked at the flashing red lights on his panel, and said, “I’ve switched every system over, including life support. We’re not going to be hanging around here for long enough to need it.”

  “Respirators?” Bradley asked, moving to a cabinet.

  “No need,” Bishop said. “There’s enough air in what’s left of the ship to keep us going for an hour at least.”

  “An hour?”

  “Either we’ll be at Golgotha by then, or our corpses won’t give a damn what the atmospheric mix is.” She looked across at Nguyen, and said, “How long?”

  “Forty seconds, roughly. The feed’s running hot. I think we’ve pushed the reactor too far. I’m getting a lot of cautionary warnings out of the safety interlinks. I’ve already had to disable the cutouts twice. We really should be floating dead in space at this point.”

  “Please don’
t use words like ‘dead’ right now,” Bishop said. “It’s too close to an uncomfortable reality.” She reached for a control, glancing at the sensors one last time, then shook her head and tapped the button, locking the course into the computer. “The last time I did this, we spent more than three weeks getting everything ready, and had help from the Observatory in plotting our course, everything double-checked by the Master Astrogator at Hercules Station. This isn’t something that you can just do on the run.” Shaking her head again, she added, “Unless you have no objection to ending up in some random part of the universe.”

  “They did promise ‘strange new worlds’ on the recruitment poster,” Nguyen quipped. “Twenty seconds.”

  “Sensors out. We’re only going to have short-range systems working when we arrive. Not that it’s going to matter anyway.” She looked down the corridor, then said, “As soon as the jump is complete, get moving on the double. Don’t wait for the order. Run for it.”

  “Ten seconds. Power curve building. Reactor running hot. Power grid failures in five places.”

  “Keep her together,” Bishop warned, her hand reaching for the command key. “Will she hold?”

  “I think so,” Nguyen replied.

  She turned the key, and the board flashed blue, the countdown clock growing brighter as the systems recognized the ship’s imminent transition to hyperdrive. Bradley looked up at the displays, wide-eyed. Not one in a million Caledonians ever left their own system, even many of the military staying close to home for their whole careers. The corvettes had been retrofitted with hyperdrives in preparation for the missions the government had hoped to mount, though all of them had been well and truly in the planning stages.

  She’d heard the stories, tales told over too many drinks at night, of ships that had attempted hyperjumps and never managed to emerge, lost forever in the strange, still unexplained netherspace through which ships traversed. Tales of ships that came out changed, their crews twisted and warped. Back in the days of Terran hegemony, travel between the stars was a commonplace event. Treated as something ordinary, normal. It was a completely different story today. Only a generation ago, the arrival of a ship from the stars was front-page news all across Caledonia, the last window into a shattered galaxy. Even today, perhaps only two or three ships a month passed through the system.