Libor: Katana Krieger #2

by Bill Robinson

  "This is Admiral Sutherland. We are about to engage in a mission that may involve firing on Union vessels, filled with our comrades who are no longer able to think for themselves. For the sake of the Union, we must do our duty. Sutherland out."

  I close the channel. Not really sure the point of that, maybe it was more to convince himself. I go on ship-wide comm.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain. We lost Second Officer Rains aboard Hornet. A traitor threw a grenade among the senior officers from both ships, Jacob took it himself, saved us all. We didn't get to know him that well, but he gave his life in honor to Yorktown and the Navy. If you please, a moment of silence for us to honor him."

  "Thank you. Return to your duties."

  Hornet transmits orders, lights on Garcia's panel flicker without help. We're on synched autopilots with the Admiral's ship in control. Yorktown's engines fire, we head for the sun. At the first potty break, Emily and I have a 10 minute conversation with Belanger, who has spent the time confined reading the tech information he should have started on the day he was assigned. I send him off with Powell to get to work.

  It takes us a day to travel to the sun, and literally zero time to jump to Gamma Upsilon. Thirty seconds later, after a brief and uneventful scan, we reach the unnamed transfer system. This time, we spend five minutes scanning empty space before prepping the first of three dangerous jumps.

  "Mr. Garcia, disengage autopilot coordination."

  "Disengaged."

  "Jump authorized. Coordinates and countdown as planned."

  "Authorized as planned, aye."

  A few seconds pass and we get the one minute warning horns.

  "Mr. Machado, all cannons hot, open outer doors. Open outer doors, tubes five through eight, warm up the missiles."

  "Aye." A pause, then, "All cannons report ready, except number six, missiles five, six, seven, and eight armed."

  We're headed to Libor Prime. Or, rather, we're headed to the backside of it's sun, counting on not staying there long enough to be seen or shot at. We could do a C-T jump directly to our final destination, but we're still hoping we have a secret that is valuable to keep.

  The countdown hits zero, and we're where we never wanted to be again.

  "Mr. McAdams?"

  "Scanning."

  We will stay here barely thirty seconds, just long enough to make sure we're clean and jumping out to the right spot, but it never hurts to look around.

  "Nothing, Skipper, empty space."

  There's a sigh across the bridge, everyone breathing again.

  "Mr. Garcia, get us out of here."

  "Aye, nine seconds."

  And, as scheduled, we're somewhere we've never been before.

  "Courtney?"

  "Scanning."

  This system is a necessary transfer point between the Life clan system and what we were told is the Death clan system. It might be Asgard or the Dreamlands just as easily.

  We're spending no time at all here either. What I see on the visual and infrared is just a bunch of nothing. Courtney confirms.

  "Empty space, Skipper, nothing interesting."

  "Aye. Mr. Garcia, talk to Hornet, let's jump."

  "Aye, sir, Hornet relayed synch on countdown when we arrived."

  The first group of jumps were all close enough to the sun that we could make the next jump without having to move. This last one puts us 100 million kilometers from the sun, we assume to catch the ships on their transit to the inhabited planet. It puts us 15 to 20 hours from being able to jump out.

  "Mr. Machado, weapons status?"

  "Sir, all cannons except six ready, missiles five through eight ready."

  "Mr. Garcia, jump authorized." I punch the screen in front of me, watch the lights turn green. The Admiral technically is authorizing, not me, I'm the button pusher.

  "Aye. Seven seconds."

  I hold my breath for eight.

  Chapter 33

  I get only the briefest glimpse of the black space of the Death system when there's a flash, and the bridge goes dark. No light, no sound of the life support packs, no rumble of engines. Dead quiet, only the fading glow of instruments going out providing illumination.

  I wait for the pounding of a laser cannon, an attack, something to explain to my senses what is going on, but nothing comes.

  "Courtney?"

  "EMP, Skipper."

  I knew that, I was asking for something I didn't know, though how she would know anything I didn't know with all instruments dead, I don't know. We get a few flickers, emergency lights fighting to do their jobs, barely piercing the darkness, creating shadows more than useful light. I try the emergency comm channel.

  "Mr. Powell?"

  "Aye, Skipper."

  "Keep us silent. No power to weapons or engines as systems restore. Minimum electronic signature."

  "Affirmative, sir, not hard to do. Skipper, I'd say the modifications they made to our systems were not entirely effective."

  "Roger that." I add a tiny laugh to emphasize her point.

  We get a second flicker from the emergency lights, this time bringing actual success, then the ship begins to gently find it's feet. I get one screen back. Courtney is in my ear.

  "Skipper, the new recorders stayed up, we have comm traffic in Libor, audio and text."

  "Copy. Let me know when you have it decoded."

  "Aye. Giving it to Olivia, I'm staying on sensors."

  "Acknowledged."

  Just as she says sensors, I get a screen back, she should have one too. Mine is set to visual. Hornet is 500 meters off our port side, dead in space. Two more destroyers, must be Lee and Atahualpa, are a click off hers, slightly higher in the orbital plane. Four other ships are with them, two L1 footballs and two of human design. There is a large sphere a couple hundred meters off our respective noses.

  "RISTA, get me an ID on the other vessels, nothing active, maintain silent, have someone target the four unknown vessels with a nuke each, lock cannons on Lee and Atahualpa."

  "Aye, Skipper, Juan has the missiles, the Marines have the cannons."

  My second screen is now alive again, I set it briefly to infrared which shows no vessels other than those I can see on visual, then I turn it to a rotating display of ship's systems. All either green or powered down.

  Powell has news.

  "Skipper, reactors on line, full power available. Engines and weapons ready at your command. I estimate 10 seconds to get everything on-line."

  "Good work, Emily, when we go power up, give me jump engines on standby as well."

  "Aye, Skipper, jump engines at power up."

  I return to my screens, looking for anything to explain why I have seen nothing. We aren't moving until they do, my butt and I once again in agreement that we will have time to figure out what they're up to and act.

  It doesn't take long.

  The footballs power up and thrust toward the sun, me still unable to identify the front of one of those by looking at it.

  "RISTA?"

  "Long text transmission immediately before they left, working on it."

  "Roger that."

  They don't get it done before I think I know what it says. Loading hatches open on the two big ships, and a dozen small boats, cargo movers that you see often in orbit around remote stations, move quickly out. I'd say half on course for Yorktown and half on course for Hornet. Must be boarding parties. Likely humans on board, zombie seaman.

  "Mr. Powell, full power, all systems. Mr. McAdams, lock cannons on incoming boats. Hold fire."

  "Locked and holding, Skipper."

  I can see on my screens as the engines and weapons come on line, the lights on the bridge giving their own visual as they shift from low emergency lights to the bright lights of normal operations. My butt feels the second and third life support packs re-engage.

  My hand flies to the comm panel, engaging radios and setting them to transmit simultaneously on all Union military and civilian frequencies.

&
nbsp; "This is Captain Katana Krieger of the Union Starship Yorktown. All attacking boats return to your mother vessels or be destroyed."

  I spend the next 10 seconds hoping they'll give me a choice, let me avoid doing what I will have to do. When they reach 200 meters of Hornet my choices dissolve down to one.

  "RISTA, have the Marines take them out, port cannons only."

  "Affirmative, Skipper, port cannons only."

  The infrared lasers fire beams outside the range of human vision, but the instantaneous destruction of five attackers confirms my orders nonetheless. The rest continue on. The lasers recharge and a second volley cuts their number to two, and still they are heading straight for us. The second recharge cycle finishes, and only dust remains.

  "Ensign Jones, establish communication with Hornet, get me Admiral Sutherland."

  "Aye, sir." With only one engineer on the bridge, Maria had him take the empty console behind her. His hands attack the screens.

  The two cargo ships are rotating one to it's port, the other to starboard. The two destroyers come to life as well, rotating to put their broadsides on us. In 20 seconds we'll have six 42 inch and a couple dozen 18 inch lasers targeting us at what amounts to point blank range. We won't survive one barrage.

  "RISTA, missiles five and six, take out the two cargo ships, drive the missiles low, target their keels. Port cannons fire, take out their cannons."

  We can feel the Javelins exit their launchers before McAdams replies.

  "Five and six on their way, Skipper. Marines targeting the lasers."

  "Mr. Garcia, course 000 mark 090, combat turn, punch us once and then go quiet, keep port cannons on attackers."

  "Zero zero zero mark 090, aye."

  We are twisted against our straps as Garcia points the ship straight up, if there is such a thing in space, and punches the engines for just a second. I spot two hits on one of the cargo ships, it's port cannons gone.

  Then Yorktown twists, shudders under laser assault.

  "Skipper, it's Atahualpa!" Courtney with the bad news.

  "Mr. Garcia, course 000 mark 045, one more punch on the engines, we can't leave Hornet. Mr. Jones, where is the Admiral!?"

  We spin again, take another jolt from our engines and two from our former friends.

  "Got him, Skipper, priority channel."

  His voice is fuzzy, I think he's on a handheld. We're nearly at the limit of it's range.

  "Krieger, this is Admiral Sutherland, you are authorized to use any force necessary against Lee and Atahualpa. Repeat, use any force necessary to protect your ship. Hornet under repair."

  "Acknowledged." I leave the radio open so he can hear my orders.

  "Mr. McAdams, take out their engines."

  "Aye, Skipper, targeting engines."

  Before we can act, Lee makes a break for it. Her engines come suddenly to life, four red circles in the sea on black space.

  "Let Lee go, target Atahualpa."

  "Rog..." She never finishes.

  Missile one turns the first cargo ship into pure, white energy, followed a few seconds later by the second ship, Yorktown is simultaneously rocked by another broadside from the captured destroyer as McAdams returns fire. Shelby is in my ear.

  "Skipper, cannons three and seven out, two hull patches starboard side breached."

  "Copy. Mr. Garcia, get us onto Atahulapa's stern."

  We twist again, thrown sideways against our couches and then pushed back into them for seconds only, before we swing around. Whoever's piloting the destroyer is trying to stay with us, but Garcia is better and my frigate is more powerful. Hard to port, Maria has him figured out, possibly a zombie pilot flying that bird, trying to out-think a burgeoning great pilot. Two more turns and it's clear she's got him.

  The second the stern's in sight, I turn Courtney loose.

  "Mr. McAdams, starboard and nose cannons, take out their engines and stern cannons."

  I'm used to her doing everything herself, but my Lieutenant has discovered the importance of delegation.

  "Marines targeting."

  They don't take long. One broadside finishes the two stern cannons and one engine, the second takes out two more engines. The fourth burns red, she's trying to run, but isn't going anywhere.

  "Mr. Garcia, pursue."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  We start to move when it becomes unnecessary. Atahualpa disappears in her own white ball of energy, reactor overload taking her down, unknown number of Union sailors with her. It had to be intentional, we'd have seen certain energy patterns from the one good engine if it had been battle damage.

  "Frak!"

  If we could have boarded her, maybe we could have saved some of them. I know it's not likely, more probably they already had their heads shaved and were slowly being eaten from the inside out, but we had to try.

  I get back to work.

  "Mr. Garcia, rendevous with Hornet."

  Her aye is interrupted.

  "Kreiger, Sutherland, belay that order. Get after Lee, board and determine if Senator Piper is on board. Repeat, run Lee down."

  "Copy, Admiral, go after Lee. Mr. Garcia, plot a course, full thrust, let me see it. Shelby, ship's status?"

  "Four cannons down, Skipper, three hull punctures, damage control working on it, malfunction in number two life support pack, engineering working on that."

  "Affirmative, warn Lieutenant Palmer we'll need his boarding party." I see Garcia's course on my screen. Lee is accelerating away at just under six gees, originally heading off into space, now turned and heading toward the sun. Makes her easier to catch, since we're now the hypotenuse of the right triangle. "Mr. Garcia, course approved, your mark."

  "Roger that, sir, 10 seconds."

  Horns sound, and Yorktown gently rotates while anyone who got out of their straps gets back into them, and perhaps the Marines head toward their assault ship. Then Yorktown growls and stalks off in pursuit.

  Garcia's course will have us on their six in 28 minutes, assuming they don't change anything in the mean time. Rendevous with someone who wants to be rendezvoused with isn't easy. Rendezvousing with someone who doesn't want to be rendezvoused with is why quality pilots are always in high demand.

  We have to be faster, then we have to turn our tail to them and slow down, timing it just right so that we're a little out in front, giving us time to turn 180 degrees in time to be even with them. It would be very helpful if they just pulled over to the side of outer space and let us catch them.

  They stay on their existing course until we go engines standby and rotate to put our tail toward them and begin the deceleration. Then they alter their trajectory every so slightly, just enough to mean we'll end up on their seven instead of their six.

  "Mr. Garcia, recommendations?"

  "I can adjust sir, but they'll probably have calculated what I would do, and alter course again."

  "Shelby?"

  "Our current course gets us behind them and to their port side, we go from being under two cannons to being under 10. Recommend we alter our course to keep our approach on their six and worry about distances once we're in close."

  "Agreed. I'd rather make ten course corrections and be shot at twice then make two course corrections and be shot at 10 times. Mr. Garcia, alter course to keep us locking onto their stern, regardless of distance when we reach matching velocity. Continue to alter as needed until we're parallel."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  I watch as she enters changes into the computer, double checks with Jones and Hardy, then flicks her finger and Yorktown shifts a few degrees to starboard. Lee's pilot tries one more shift, Garcia makes one more counter, and then he gives up, holds course to the sun.

  As soon as we're in gun range, I have the Marines open fire.

  "Mr. McAdams, all available cannons, target Lee's stern cannons and engines only."

  "Affirmative, stern cannons and engines."

  Her fingers don't move, but I can see the four Marines to my left go to work. Our 24
inchers have a longer effective range than their 18's, if we're lucky we'll take out their cannons before they can really use them.

  The port stern cannon goes. Engine three. Engine four. Garcia, panicking, has to pivot Yorktown hard and go to heavy thrust to keep us from zooming past.