Libor: Katana Krieger #2

by Bill Robinson

  I get on the intercom. First I call Chief Turner and warn him to expect the LS, then I call Shelby and Rains to the bridge.

  Which gives me a minute to go back to watching the professors at work. They're 600 or so words into the discussion, about 450 of which were in our dictionary, but no where near being complete enough to really converse cleanly. Professor Henderson claimed that 75 percent of all English word use is 1,000 words, but to get to 90 percent you go to 7,000 words, and 100 percent is over one million. At the present rate, we'll be here months before they get to 90 percent, I won't live long enough to get to 100. I would have liked to pick the first 600 words, but they've found the words that fit the topics they've discussed as needed.

  Finally, my comm light blinks, I punch the necessary buttons on my screen and up comes the instructions. We're leaving tomorrow at 1000, reasonable course laid in at a tad over two gees with a time on orbit of 0934 hours the next day. Circular orbit at 190 klicks above the planetary surface.

  Their one gee appears to be 1.14 of our gees, which should be the planetary gravity of their world, but isn't. The implication is that this planet is not actually their point of origin, but I'm not going to suggest to the Senator that we're not at the focal point of their government, whatever their government is.

  I drag Shelby and Rains into my ready room and show them the plan.

  "Comments?"

  Shelby starts. "At that altitude, we'd be within range of surface to air missiles even if they don't have an orbital defense grid."

  "Aye. We'll be blocked from line of site transmissions to the corvettes half the time as well. Mr. Rains?"

  "It is a course we'd take if it was one of our planets, and the orbit is not unusual."

  "Aye, but it's not one of ours. We don't have any choice, but I did want you both to see it before we executed it."

  I hit the button on my collar. "Mr. Powell, Mr. Garcia, Mr. McAdams, Lieutenant Palmer to the captain's ready room on the double."

  We don't say anything while we wait, and I continue my silence while I show them the Senator's message. You can see them tense as they read. Emily's scratching her head about the fourth word, and doesn't let up until she's done.

  "Skipper," my engineer has her hand down at her side, but there's still an ugly red mark across her scalp, "this is crazy. We don't even know what we don't know."

  "Aye, Emily, but we're going anyway. Can we get two of our drones out in stealth mode before we go?"

  "Sir, the alien ship is leaving first, if the drones are outside aft of us before we go they should be invisible enough. But," she pauses and scratches again, "I don't think we can operate the launchers without them picking it up."

  For a second, I visualize putting a scratching post for her in the ward room, then the motion gives me an idea.

  "Can we move them out by hand through the docking collars or the boat deck?"

  Now I can almost see her wheels turning, her hands moving as if they're manhandling something, hopefully one of the drones.

  "Skipper, they're on deck five, we should be able to get them down to the boat deck and out the hatch, though I'd suggest we get the Marines to do it, not my crew. I'd like to test it before I commit to it, though."

  "Affirm. Tell Mr. Palmer and Chief Turner what you want, and they'll get it done." I turn my head to look at Courtney. "Mr. McAdams, can you program the drones to follow us, maybe 12 hours later, coast most of the way, one in orbit planet opposite Yorktown, the other geostationary over the south pole?"

  She doesn't even pause, I'm sure she saw it coming. There's only a couple places we could put the drones to be useful.

  "Aye, Skipper, not a problem."

  "Maria, you're to have a course to jump point, maximum acceleration, programmed and in the flight management system at all times. One button on your console or mine and we're at nine gees in 30 seconds."

  "Aye, sir." She's not scratching or showing an obvious tick, still she can't hide her nervousness.

  "Mr. Rains, schedule a pod to do an exterior inspection of the returning LS after it docks, that will give us an excuse to open the doors."

  "Yes, sir, will do, sir." I will make sure to double check his work before we launch.

  "Tony, when the LS returns, I want two of your team on deck four in full battle armor, just in case. Then on a rotating basis, at least two in armor on watch at all times until we leave the planet for home."

  "Yes, sir." He's probably thinking I should have asked for more than two, but with four on the bridge, that's a third of his force on ship duty at all times, and he's got his own work to do. I pause for effect before I finish.

  "Any questions?"

  I go eye to eye with each of my officers until I'm sure they are good to go.

  "Dismissed. Status report at 1500 from each division."

  They float out, leaving me, Shelby, and Rains.

  "Mr. Rains, you have the bridge. Get me a tactical analysis of the L1 alien ship and its location relative to Yorktown as we transit to the planet. I don't want to be bracketed if I can avoid it."

  "Yes, sir, on my way, sir." And he's gone.

  Shelby's laughing at me. "Skipper, you and I both know that ship isn't an issue with the course they've given us."

  I almost laugh back. "Idle hands. Shel, we need to do some planning. Let's assume this is a trap, we need plan A, plan B, and probably a C and D as well."

  "Katana," she's deadly serious now, "you know damn well it's a trap, and we can get to Z without much chance of getting out of here in one piece."

  "Okay, then we need plan F, for frak them up bad before we're done."

  She and I spend the rest of the day and into the evening drinking tea and working on plans, until we not only have A, B, C, and D, but E, F, and G as well. Just like her, I am giving the probability we use F as close to 100 percent, but that doesn't stop us from being prepared.

  I break just once, long enough to tell the crew that letters home will be sent with the next data download, and I expect them all to write at least one. I write three: one to my parents, one to my little sisters, and one to a Marine. I try to be cheerful, but there's a limit, and I also need to feel as if I've said a good good-bye. They'll be censored by the staff on board Hornet before they get put out on the net, which also complicates what I can say. Shel writes a couple as well, though her Marine is 50 feet away.

  Finally, I send her off and hit my rack. Technically, it's Rains' shift but we made him sit on the bridge all day and most of the evening, so I turn the ship over to Ensign Jones. He's entitled to at least one shift in the big chair before we head off to our doom.

  At 0630 I am strapping myself into my couch after sending Jones off to bed, the hair wet and loose around me. I should have visited a stylist before we left, it's in need of serious repair that I am not capable of doing for myself.

  The LS departs the enemy ship at precisely 0700, it docks on Yorktown at 0730, Tony's Marines finish their interior sweep at 0745, nothing to report, then head down to the boat deck. I have the cameras on, but I don't really need them. The ship bounces a little during the evacuation of the air from the deck, then vibrates from the center out as the big doors swing slowly open. My butt registers the thrusters firing at minimum power to keep all of that from making us rotate.

  On one screen, I have our pod as it exits, allegedly to make an exterior inspection of the just returned landing craft, while on the other I watch as Chief Turner supervises the Marines moving two 10 foot long drones, actually miniature Yorktowns in that they are cylindrical, black, and pointy at one end, out of the ship into space. They've got three space suited warriors on each side and one, either brave or not too bright, holding on from the tail (that's where the engines do their business).

  There's a lot of mass to deal with, despite the "weightlessness", but they manage to get each one out and push it toward the stern with just a touch of velocity. Can't have them too near the ship when we light our engines, but they can't be where the Lib
or are likely to notice them either. I watch until I can't make them out on visual anymore, all the while noting in my extremities that the pod docked back aboard, the doors swung shut, and the environmental system revved up briefly to make the space liveable.

  Then I flip my left screen to navigation and my right screen to rotating display of ship's systems.

  Maria's got the course plotted, and all our stations are ready, though you can do the proverbial cutting of the tension with the proverbial knife. We at least had a chance to do the proverbial running away at our current location, now we're giving up even that.

  There's dead silence on the bridge as we watch the Libor ship light those giant thruster pods and head home without having to rotate the ship. It's tough to tell which end of a football is the front just from looking at it. Per our communication with the Senator, we're waiting three minutes before we follow.

  "Maria," my voice is low, almost a whisper, still loud against the lack background noise, "go as scheduled, no horns please."

  "Aye, Skipper, starting the clock."

  We wait, no need to tell you how long that wait feels. Yorktown gently pushes us back into our seats exactly on cue, slowly building toward two alien gees.

  "Mr. McAdams, drop laser link, go to directional radio. Continuous download on planetary photographs."

  "Aye, Skipper, downloading photos via radio."

  We can't maintain the laser at this distance from Congress while in motion, and we need to get every photo of the planet home to the map makers while we can.

  For the next 22 hours, it's all routine, we take our bathroom breaks and shift changes as we would heading to any planet around any star. No one seems to be reading or playing games though, every station I can see that's not doing ship's business is running combat sims. I spend my time partly on the bridge and partly in my ready room, going through the photos and making judgements about what I'm seeing.

  There aren't any large cities. The planet is covered in green. The sun is about the same size as Earth's, but the planet's orbit is a tad closer, resulting in a tropical climate from north pole to south. It might not even be habitable at the equator. There are scattered small towns, no real cities anywhere, and a spider web of roads through the woods connecting them. The planet is organized like they are, lots of small components, no big brain or heart for us to nuke.

  The transition into orbit is smooth, we're right where we're supposed to be, 190 clicks up and a couple hundred off the tail of L2.

  By 1000 I've watched our team move back into the alien ship's ward room for the eighth time, all their cameras off overnight, so I have no idea what their quarters looked like or whether or not they played alien Parcheesi. The Marines, on the Senator's orders, are now traveling with weapons in their backpacks only, disassembled. I can't imagine what goes through their minds every time they have to put those packs down and walk into enemy territory barehanded. Okay, I know exactly what they're thinking, I just don't want to think about it.

  The only positive of the past week is that we can all pretty much stare at the Libor without getting sick to our stomachs, and I can tell Phil from Ozzy and Ralph from Rudy without help from the app. I'd have bet $1,000 that was impossible a week ago, and, if I had to explain how I do it, I'd still owe the grand.

  Day eight opens with two new Libor in the enemy contingent, Leo and Cliff according to my RISTA. Cliff has grey hair sprinkled among his tan hair, the second variation we've seen in color, and, I assume, the oldest Libor we've seen as well.

  They spend the day talking about basic trade philosophy, very business like. The Senator proposes free access to one system in our space, not surprisingly California, the Libor are interested in mining rights in our neighboring space, and would allow open access to their planet as part of the deal.

  The Senator proposes exclusive trade rights for the Union, the Libor ask questions suggesting they didn't know there were other human groups. Liars.

  The fun part is when they don't have a word for what they want to say, and have to play Password or act out a short skit to make the other side understand. If they actually do make a contract, I doubt both sides will fully understand what they're agreeing to.

  Everything's fine until they decide to break for the night, start to pack up, only to be interrupted the Libor with one last request. I wasn't paying attention, assuming wrongly that they were leaving, but I hear the Senator say my name.

  My fingers fly to the screens, I rewind the video and replay it. And replay it. And replay it. The angles are wrong, the Senator and everyone else moving about, I can't see what was on the Libor screen as they "talked" to Piper. I'll have to wait until he says something, and that might be a long time. As often as they've tried to kill me, and as many of them as I've killed, having someone confirm that I'm next door is not comforting.

  My comm panel lights. Somehow I'm sure I'm about to wish he'd have kept on not talking to me. I hit the switch.

  "Yes, Senator?"

  "Captain, we're going to have a treaty signing tomorrow and a formal dinner. The Libor have requested that you attend, as the senior Naval officer present."

  Frak that, I'm not going to dinner.

  "Sir, I believe it unadvisable for me to attend. Admiral Hilgenberg made absolutely clear she did not want me off my ship."

  "Captain, need I remind you that I am in command here?" That's his rude voice.

  "No, sir."

  "1700, Captain, at 1700 tomorrow the Libor will be waiting outside to help you dock." Still with the rude voice.

  "Aye, Senator. I'll be there."

  "Good. Bring a bag, we're all spending the night on board, then I'm planning on going to their planet for a few days to look at trade possibilities, you should plan on coming with me."

  He hangs up. It's a good thing, I had nothing to say that wouldn't get me thrown in the brig.

  Chapter 8

  Shelby is on the bridge already, getting set up for shift change. I give McAdams the con and take my First into my ready room.

  "You heard?"

  "Aye. Can you call in sick?" There's a half laugh in the big brown eyes, something of a nervous twitch to her body.

  I give her the obligatory fake laugh.

  "What are the odds we make it off that planet alive and uncompromised?"

  She looks straight at me, her dark brown eyes alive with a half dozen different emotions. Her answer is in them, no need to speak.

  "Agreed. We've got a day to add a couple more plans to our list. I think a little hide and seek might be in order, and we need to move Summerlin and his task force. Let's give it some thought tonight and spend tomorrow on the details. Right now, I need a couple hours in the gym."

  Now she gives me the fake obligatory laugh, and we float on out to pound the treadmills. Tony joins us for most of it, on her side, my Marine spot unoccupied. We run with the visual of the planet on the screens in front of us, arguing about what each occupied area is likely to be. Mostly agricultural, I recognize farms without need of an interpreter, and, we agree, two military installations a couple thousand miles apart on the largest continent. Each of the towns is surrounded by farms, those two spots are surrounded by at least 50 clicks of woods in every direction.

  "They'll take us to one of those spots, yes?" The sweat is dripping off my forehead, the jump suit I run in soaked through.

  "Yes, sir." It's Tony who answers. "I would hate to try an assault either of them, my guess would be several hundred enemy combatants at each. They've both got a sizeable space port and airfield, and that means staff and security. No way to get in there unseen except from the ground, no idea of what air defenses they have."

  I laugh, quickly and relatively quietly. "I wasn't proposing that the 20 of you try to take a base that size, Lieutenant, I have a dozen missiles that need targeting instructions."

  "Yes, sir." The words are heavy in his mouth, he knows what I'm implying. Once we get down to the surface and trouble comes, Yorktown will only have one opt
ion to end it. I'm not letting any of us become zombies. I run a few more steps before I respond.

  "The only good thing Tony, is that we haven't found any sign of an orbital defense matrix, or even ground based defenses against assault from space. It would almost confirm what Intelligence said, that they don't war on each other openly, except that I don't trust a thing I see or hear from them."

  "Katana," Shel's running and breathing hard, but I still recognize the exasperated voice, "all our planning can't be on the assumption that you're a dead woman."

  "Copy that. I'm open to other options, if you have any Commander."

  For a minute, I only hear the sounds of our feet beating against the treadmills and their motors spinning. Some of the hair breaks loose and wraps briefly around my face before I push it back where it belongs.