by Dale Sale
Of course it is. Now he knew he was dreaming. “How’s the ride back there?” he asked the squad.
Nan Stanski joked, “You drive like an old woman, hurry up!” The ship started jerking as they skipped off the atmospheric edge.
Gus called back, “Just trying to get you down in one-piece sweetheart.”
“You mean by kicking us out of our nice warm dropship at 20,000 meters?”
Gus laughed. “Hey those fellas got hold of some Donasian surface-to-air missiles I don’t want to tangle with.”
The comm rang with a chorus of, “Pussy!”
“I get shot down and who is gonna to come for your sorry asses? I’m the only one dumb enough to haul you.”
Laughter filled the drop bay.
Annie spoke through the 1MC, “It is time to helmet on and begin prebreathing O2.”
“Okay, grunts, you heard her,” Gus said. “Tops on.”
An alarm sounded, “Warning, detecting missile launch.” Annie said.
“Shit! Hang on back there.”
Gus was too high for the control surfaces to be much good. He began to dive.
“Warning, approaching airframe limits.”
Nan yelled, “Can we bail?”
“Not yet, stand by.” Gus fought the control yoke. “Launch flares and chaff!”
The ship responded, “Altitude limits exceeded for countermeasure effectiveness.”
“Shit, shit! Get ready to bail, I’m gonna blow the ramp.”
“Yeah, we’re ready. See you on the ground, Gus,” Nan said.
Gus removed a safety cover and pulled two handles. The dropship was still at 35,000 meters and the aft ramp disappeared into the slipstream. Thunderbolt squad streamed out. Nan looked back, paused at attention, saluted, and fell into the sky.
Time slowed for Gus. He heard the ship warn of missiles closing. Gus slipped his harness, “Execute evasion pattern two niner alpha bravo.” He knew a human body couldn’t survive pattern two niner in atmosphere, so he was going to need to bail.
“Pattern two niner Alpha Bravo confirmed, Good luck, Bosun.”
“You too Sister.” Gus disappeared out the tail.
He stooped into a falcon’s dive to get more distance from the ship.
The ship pulled up sharply and ignited the fusion drive. Gus swore he could feel the heat licking through his boot soles. He could see the rest of the team as small specks on his HUD against the black night.
His helmet said, “Chute deployment in 10 seconds.”
“Already?”
Gus counted down, and he felt the familiar jerk as it caught the air and filled. “Now to see if I can still hit the LZ.”
Gus was suddenly falling again. His chute had failed. He clawed at the reserve and the handle came away in his hand. He looked at his altimeter spinning toward zero. He shot past the rest of the team hanging below their chutes.
Gus jerked awake. Whoa, that was a shitty dream. At least I woke up before I hit the ground. “That’s it!” he yelled out loud, “I know how to hit the Erebus.”
Two minutes later, Corvus’s crew gathered in the wardroom.
Lenore began, “Do you think that was wise for the Skipper to taunt Commander Meza like that?”
Pela shrugged. “Probably not, but he will think twice before fucking with us again.”
Zia said, “Grey isn’t the only one who lets his temper get the better of him.”
“I’m tired of getting smacked. Didn’t it feel good to do the smacking for once?” Pela didn’t appreciate the comment.
Drake added, “Amen Sister!”
Nyrkki agreed, “If they keep coming, we will give it to them again.”
Nan threw up her hands, “Great! Even the thousand-year-old man’s got caveman syndrome now. I don’t want Meza and Grey more cautious, I want them pissed and off balance.”
“I sure don’t want them getting better at hunting us,” Zia said. “At least Grey isn’t on Terne Station right now. I think we can trust Lieutenant DeWitt to keep our friends safe.”
Lenore said, “Ultimately, we need to remove Captain Grey from his position and secure legitimacy for ourselves.”
Gus floated in and snagged his chair. “That’s a tall order, but yeah, that should be our goal.”
“Perhaps we should concentrate on staying alive for the moment?” HAM chimed in.
“I know how to get past Grey,” Gus announced. “We are gonna use our old friend Newt’s First Law.”
HAM cocked his head.
Commander Meza knocked at the door of his former cabin. He scowled when he noticed Grey had taken down his pictures and rearranged the furniture. “You wanted to see me, Captain Grey?”
Grey continued to stare at the bulkhead rather than turn to face Meza. “Yes Commander, nice effort trying to trick Johansson into giving up his location,” he finally turned his chair. “However, he is a slippery one, gave you and the ship quite the black eye with that acoustic mine.”
Meza winced at the jab. “The crew is more determined than ever to catch him now.”
Grey said, “Well, what if we didn’t have to catch him?”
“But you made it clear that we need to capture his ship intact.”
Grey chuckled. “Yes, but I don’t need Johansson intact. It would actually be better if the crew was no longer an issue. No pesky questions of ownership.”
“What are you suggesting, Captain?” Meza said slowly.
“I want our ready torpedoes reconfigured with enhanced neutron radiation warheads,” Grey said. “That will remove the crew as an obstacle.”
“You mean kill them.”
Grey waved his hand. “I’m sure no one will miss Johansson or anyone else on that ship. The system is a big place Commander, we just spread the story that Johansson and crew escaped and were never heard from again. They will soon be forgotten.”
Meza thought, Damn, you are one cold prick. “I will need you to authorize that in writing Sir, neutron warheads require Command Authorization.”
Grey turned his chair to consider the bulkhead. “Oh, you can handle the details, Commander.”
Meza gritted his teeth. “Aye, Sir,” and he left.
Chief Warrant Officer Belen Obo was busy checking the maintenance schedules. His office was buried deep in the armory spaces of the Erebus. The office might be small, but woe unto any who doubted that the ship’s weapons were his kingdom. Obo looked up at the sound of, “Attention on Deck!” in the spaces outside his door. Who the hell is in my space? The “official” Weapons Officer didn’t dare leave the upper decks to come down here.
Obo checked himself in the mirror and brushed his crossed cannon collar device as he opened the door. Commander Meza, former CO, was talking to a stammering PO3 at the entrance to the armory. Obo called out, “Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Obo was tall with a flat stomach and purposeful stride. Overhead lights gleamed on his shaved dark scalp.
The petty officer stepped back. Commander Meza attempted to soothe Obo. “Excuse me coming down unannounced, Mr. Obo, there is something I need to discuss with you. May we use your office?”
Obo paused. Highly irregular, him coming down here without invitation. Normally, the Weapons Officer would relay any concerns from above. Erebus’s Warrant Officers kept a “Closed Mess” separate from the wardroom. Asking to use my office? Something is definitely up.
The crew knew that Meza had been relieved by Grey, but they were assured it was a temporary measure because of a special mission and not any fault of the Commander’s. They didn’t trust Grey, and Meza’s appearance in the armory fueled their suspicions.
Obo entered the office and sat. There was no chair for Meza. Visitors to Obo’s office were expected to stand. “What can I help you with, Sir?”
Meza cleared his throat. He knew word of his visit was already racing through the mess attendant network. “Mr. Obo, I have an unusual request.”
“What is it, Commander? Need an untraceable sidearm?” Obo as
ked. “Just kidding.”
“Not today, but I will keep you in mind. Did you get the message to fit the ready torpedoes with neutron warheads?”
Obo did not smile, “That was a highly unusual request. Neutron warheads are prohibited by treaty.”
“That is why it was sent by message and not official order. We are hunting down a mercenary group. The treaty applies to conflicts with signatory Governments.”
“Who is so dangerous that they deserve summary execution by radiation poisoning?”
Meza answered, “A renegade named Guster Johansson.”
Obo shook his head. “Gusty Joe? Nah, ain’t buying it! Gusty holds the Navy Cross. You won’t find a better messmate.”
“Mr. Johansson is no longer a member of the Fleet. Captain Grey believes he is a ‘clear and present danger’ to the Governance,” Mexa said.
“I can fit EMP heads that will knock out anything flying. You don’t need neuts.”
“Yes, I agree. I said Grey wanted them fitted, I did not say that you should do it. I consider this request from Grey to be a serious statement about his fitness for command. I would like to hear Mr. Johansson’s side of the story. I will consider it a personal favor if you would load EMP warheads on our ready torpedos and not mention this conversation.”
Obo said, “So technically, Captain Grey did not order me to use neutron warheads. EMP torpedoes are a standard weapon for use against fugitives. I think that is a wise course of action, Commander.” Obo stood and opened the door for Meza. He spoke so that his voice carried through the armory. “Well Commander, I think that your wife will be very happy with a Remigon double action capper, perfect lady’s gun for self-defense.”
Meza turned and shook Obo’s hand. “Thanks for your recommendation, Mr. Obo, I’m sure it will suit our needs.”
Back on the Bridge a few minutes later, Commander Meza asked the conn for a report.
The young Conning Officer replied, “We have achieved stable orbit just outside Ix’s ring, Sir. This is the position CIC thinks will best expose Corvus. They will need to begin deceleration soon to enter the ring. Their drive will pinpoint them.”
Meza smiled at the teamwork the Bridge crew displayed. “Weapons?”
The petty officer manning Weapons said, “Mr. Obo reports torpedoes are ready, as per your orders.”
Meza let that pass without comment. “I want to try something else too. Deck Department will lay out a passive drone sensor array using the BUGs. CiC will patch them in to the ship’s CI augmented sensors. That should increase our detection range.” He heard a murmur of agreement. The crew was still smarting from the acoustic mine stunt. They wanted revenge.
“We Here.”
Gus looked up from the data tablet he was studying. “All right, where is Erebus?”
“They are holding position just outside the ring four hundred thousand kilometers from us,” Lenore said
“Not moving?”
“No Skipper,” Lenore replied. “They have done an excellent job deducing where we would arrive.”
Gus smiled. “Okay folks, who can guess what they are up to?”
Pela said, “They want to spot us coming in.” Pela had experience against pirates trying to raid Sirace Corp. mining ships.
“They might lay a mine field for protection, or maybe just as a proximity warning. That’s what I’d do if I was dug in,” Nan said.
“I have studied Governance tactics, they detail the use of drones networked to a ship’s passive sensor array to expand sensitivity,” Lenore said.
Gus agreed. “I’d do all of that if I was hunting us. What is our current speed relative to Erebus?”
Zia at the forward station said, “800,000 kph closing.”
Gus turned to Pela at the Weapons Station. “Everything ready for Uncle Newton’s gift?”
Pela smiled broadly. “Just say the word.”
“Okay, deploy the package.” Gus keyed the 1MC throughout the ship. “All right everyone we are going to be at 2 gees for quite a while. It’s going to get uncomfortable. Lenore, interface with Corvus to get us a good hiding spot.”
Nyrkki came over the squawk box from ECC, “Only two gees? I will be in the gym lifting weights.”
Grey sulked in the command chair of Erebus. “CiC, still nothing?”
The CiC Officer came over the squawk box. “Nothing yet, Sir.”
“Meza your plan sucks!” Grey announced. “How long are we just gonna sit here? They are already in the ring for all we know.”
Meza replied, “Captain, please let the crew do their job. The sensor array will pick them up soon. There is no way they got past us.”
The squawk box sounded. “Bridge CiC, we got em. They just fired up their fusion drive on a deceleration maneuver. Bearing 000 range four hundred thousand.”
Grey said, “Finally! Conn, I want a 2 gee burn on an intercept course. Weapons, fire a full spread of torpedoes as soon so we have a positive solution.”
The stations reported, “Aye, Captain.”
“Hope you are ready for a little surprise, Johansson.”
Gus looked around his bridge. “All stations report.”
Pela said, “The package is continuing on our original course and speed.”
Nyrkki said, “Engines are perfect.”
HAM added, “Of course they are!”
Lenore said, “Deceleration holding at two gees to avoid attracting suspicion.”
Drake’s laugh came over the comm. “Since you all have everything under control, Zia and I are having coffee and Ophelia is taking a nap.”
“Erebus is beginning a heavy acceleration straight for us,” Nan said. “They will intercept our package soon.”
Gus smiled. “Hey Drake, how about making some popcorn? This is going to be a helluva show.”
On Erebus, the Weapons Officer said, “Captain, we have a firing solution.”
Grey snarled. “Well, let’s finish this. Fire!”
“Torpedoes away.”
Four torpedo drives flared to life on the bridge screen and they streaked away. Grey smiled. “That’s a beautiful sight.”
Suddenly, the screen flared blinding bright, and the ship shook hard. All the lights failed, the General Alarm sounded, and the red emergency lights activated.
Grey yelled, “What the Hell just happened?”
Weapons said, “Our torpedoes blew up!”
Grey panicked, Shit, neutron warheads that close. “Operations, what are our external radiation levels?”
“Nothing serious Captain, the torpedoes hadn’t armed yet.”
Engineering Control called in. “We just got tagged by an electromagnetic pulse minefield, Captain. Fusion drive is offline. Systems should be resetting shortly.”
Grey hit the squawk box button. “CiC, where did that minefield come from?”
The voice answered, “It looks like Corvus just let them drift on the ship’s original course and speed. Sir, we ran into them all by ourselves.”
“Where is Johansson now?”
“Sensors are offline from the pulse.”
Meza asked, “Operations, what was our speed when we went blind?”
Operations said, “One hundred thirty thousand per hour.”
Meza said, “Johansson is getting at least 35 klicks farther away every second.”
Operations spoke up, “Captain, I have a visual on the stern view.”
Grey said, “Why do I want to see that?”
The Ops keyed up the view. The drones had scattered a message glittering against the black star field. It read, BOOM!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Erebus was quickly repaired and searching the ring.
Gus wandered down to the Machine Shop with Lenore. He wanted to see if Nyrkki had any tricks left in his bag. Even though he was the skipper, Gus paused at the hatchway and knocked.
Nyrkki’s gravelly rumble answered, “I’m in here.”
Gus and Lenore entered the shop to see Nyrkki’s stubby legs p
oking out of the insides of some new project. Gus asked, “What is this, EO?” He patted the device and looked inside.
Nyrkki pushed free and floated out in the microgravity. “Building a cold plasma thruster so we can maneuver undetected. As a bonus, it can use vaporized asteroid chunks for propellant since we have plenty of that around.”
Lenore said, “Excellent EO. How powerful will they be?”
“Unfortunately, not very,” he said. “I can add several though, and they can be throttled and gimbaled for different thrust vectors. The bad news is they will add to the radar cross section slightly.”
Gus said, “Can’t have everything. I’m hoping Grey gets recalled or gives up finding us.”
Nyrkki raised an eyebrow, “Is that likely?”
“I believe it is not,” Lenore said, “He appears fixated on our capture.”
Gus snapped his fingers. “If all hands help you, how quick can we get these installed?”
Nyrkki said, “This one is ready. HAM and I can have five more by zero one hundred. You all can start fitting them as we go. Should be able to finish by twelve hundred tomorrow if we pull an all-nighter.”
Lenore keyed her comm. “Auntie, could you put on an extra strong pot of coffee, please?”
Commander Atil Meza hovered over the consoles in the CIC discussing the hunt for Corvus with his Tac Officer. The CIC crew was still embarrassed that they had been caught off guard by Gus’s EMP mine scheme. “How has the drone array been performing, Tac?”
Tac said, “Bloodhound, using the array’s nickname, is at maximum sensitivity, but that ship is very good at hiding. If I turn up the gain any higher all we get is scatter from Ix’s solar wind bouncing off all this ring crap.”
Meza thought about that. “Turn it up, I want to see”
Tac shrugged and started adjusting the console.
Meza nudged him aside and began to stroke the keys and dials. The screen danced as the energized particles of solar wind created shifting patterns. “Bloodhound, scan for patterns of particle scatter interruption,” Meza said to the CI.
