by M. J. Konkel
“So he thinks he outsmarted you. But … he didn’t, did he?” Enceladus asked.
“Nope!”
“So you’re doing what then?” Enceladus asked.
“I’m overriding their system by cutting the lines to the main computer, and then I am going to go back in through the back-up computer. There is a password that I just happen to know that allows computer systems engineers to go in and create new accounts and passwords.”
“How do you know all this shit? You have some secret manual or something?” Drummer asked.
“Someone aboard the Spitnik’s Fist showed me. Said I might need to know it someday. Cosmos, she was more right than she ever knew.”
“You better hurry,” Enceladus urged.
I didn’t even take the time to insert the panel back into place. I rose and popped over to the captain’s console. I typed in a login command and the screen said it Computer Offline.
Then the screen displayed a new message. Redirecting to Secondary Computer.
A few seconds later, a login screen appeared, and I did my thing.
“They’re almost here,” Enceladus shouted.
“I’m in!” I jumped over to a seat in front of a console to the left side. I punched in commands to activate the plasma ion cannon and placed the weapons’ goggles over my head. I now saw where the cannon pointed. I toggled the joystick in front of me and the crosshair in my vision moved.
I placed the red crosshair square on the first of the oncoming Spit trucks and pulled the trigger on the toggle stick. I saw instantly an explosion on the surface of the truck. I then moved the now black crosshair to the next truck and fired once the cross hair turned red again. And then I turned to the third truck. Each shot was about two seconds apart, the time it took the capacitors for the cannon’s accelerators to recharge.
Each shot only used about 4 mg or so of gas. It would take about 50 shots to give the mass that was in a single raindrop. But the gas was superheated to tens of thousands of degrees and launched out at roughly 4% of the speed of light. The impacts were devastating just from the kinetic energy alone.
Each of the oncoming vehicles exploded where they were hit by the plasma bolts. A few GATs spilled out of the back of the stalled trucks, but I wasn’t worried by them.
I flipped the weapons’ goggles off my head, scooted over to the pilot’s seat, and popped the goggles there over my head. The goggles allowed access to all of the outside cameras. Whichever direction I stared, cameras on that side gave me an outside view. When staring straight forward, a little crosshatch showed exactly where the ship pointed. It was almost like being the ship when the goggles were on.
“The frickin’ crew from this ship are still out there,” Drummer shouted, staring out the front port. “You’re not going to let them live, are you? Tell me you’re just playing with them.”
“Shooting them would be merciful at this point.” I flipped switches and checked readings. “They just let us steal their ship. What do you know their superiors are going to do with them?”
Drummer’s lips turned upright into a big grin. “Oddly, I think I’d find pleasure in knowing that.”
“Find a seat,” I advised. “Time to get the hell out of Pompei.” I throttled up the thrusters, and we slowly ascended to a few hundred meters above the desert floor. Then I banked the ship as we headed for the rendezvous location about twenty klicks away. I wished I could have swooped over the camp and done more damage to the damn Spits, but I couldn’t fly and shoot at the same time.
The ship handled just like in the simulations I had spent so many hours playing. The corvette had been my favorite in those even though there weren’t many of them in the Navy. The fighters were more maneuverable, but they could not create wormholes.
The problem the Spits had was that tantalum-180 was critical for making their wormhole generators, but they could only get their hands on a limited amount of the metal since it is so rare. That had put a severe limit on the number of wormhole generators they had been able to construct. Their priority was to put those on their destroyers or their carriers. The Spits’ engines of war. The corvette’s engines were smaller than those for the behemoths, but still each corvette engine built was half an engine not built for a carrier or destroyer.
“With this ship we can now really take the fight to those frickin’ bastards.” Amerigo whooped.
“I’m taking this ship out of the system,” I calmly announced. I felt all their eyes turn on me. Burning holes through me.
“What? We need this ship in this fight,” Drummer protested. “This ship can really hurt those frickin’ bastards. This ship is our weapon against them. Ours! For Bahram.” Drummer turned and stared defiantly at me.
“I’m the only one here that can pilot this ship,” I declared. “I will not be dictated to.”
“Who died and left you in charge?” Drummer yelled and then turned away. He realized what he just said and regretted it.
Enceladus didn’t relent though. “Where the hell will you go then? Back to your world? Are you turning your back on us after all we’ve been through together?”
“No. This is bigger than us or even this whole world. We need allies in this fight,” I said. “Allies that can build ships big enough to take on those destroyers. That’s the only real chance for your world and for mine. We’re here, so hang onto something.” It took all of three minutes to reach the rendezvous site. It would have taken even less if I had taken a straight path to it.
I set the ship down on a sandy basin a few hundred yards from the agreed meeting place. All the Bahramian fighters were probably shitting when they saw the Spit ship coming toward them.
“If I have to I will do this alone. So what’s it going to be? Are you with me or not?” I turned to the others and glanced at each.
“Yeah, I’m with you,” Enceladus moaned.
“Yeah, you’d miss me if I wasn’t along,” Drummer said.
“Count me in,” Amerigo agreed. “But why are we here then?”
“Keeping a promise I made to Marla,” I replied.
Drummer opened the hatch and the ramp extended down. Drummer and Amerigo raced out to announce to the other resistance fighters that it was just us, not the Spits.
The fighters suddenly appeared from behind rocks and out of crevasses in the side of the hill. Marla had asked me to watch out for Morgan, so that is who we picked up.
I insisted we get out of there fast though. The corvette could handle GATs on the ground, but I was damn sure the Spits would call in for air support once they realized one of their precious few ships was stolen. And, man, were they going to be pissed when they figured that out. They were going to throw everything they had into getting it back or destroying it and us along with it. For the Spits, the only thing worse than not having the ship was us having it.
The jets the Spits would send would be far more maneuverable than the corvette. Besides, I couldn’t pilot the ship and fire its weapons at the same time. This ship just wasn’t built that way. And I didn’t have time yet to train any of the others on use of the weapons.
We were back up in the air within minutes. I kept the ship low. I was less worried about the 3000 satellites the Spits had in orbit to spy on the world. While they might very well spot us via one of those, it would be difficult for them to track us with those. Besides, there was not much I could do about the satellites. I was more worried about the ship being spotted on radar or by other aircraft. As we flew, I put a few zigs in our course, in case the ship was spotted on radar or by satellite.
“Where’re we going?” Enceladus asked.
“Picking up the good doctor,” I said. “Dr. Z,” I added after I got a quizzical stare.
“No, I meant after we leave Bahram,” Enceladus clarified.
“I haven’t really thought it through yet,” I replied. “I have several worlds in mind though. But first things first.”
“Dr. Z?” Enceladus questioned.
“Yeah, it’s some
thing Marla said,” I tried to explain. “I think there is something the doctor didn’t tell us. Told Marla but not the rest of us. Something really important.”
I considered landing in the valley right on the other side of the hill from Benjanin and Luci’s estate, but I decided against it. If our image was picked up by satellite some distance away from the estate, our connection to the couple would be less likely to be made by the Spits.
The ship got us there in a hurry, and I set her down on a hilltop plateau a couple of klicks away.
Drummer popped open the hatch and headed down the ramp. Morgan insisted on going, pointing out that he knew the way better than any of us. He was right, of course, but I think he mostly wanted to see his parents one last time before we left. Amerigo went also. The long night had just started as Ursa Phinia hid behind Dosei on the western horizon. Enceladus remained with me at the ship.
I grabbed my armored suit and helmet after the away party had left. I wanted radio contact with Drummer, Amerigo, and Morgan, and I could only get that in a suit. The suits’ radios were encrypted, and only another matched radio could be used to decrypt the message.
“Hey Enceladus, why don’t you get some simulator practice at the weapons station,” I suggested as we waited.
She agreed, and I showed her how to set up the simulator and a few basics.
Soon the hull blocked the signal as the away party got some distance from the ship. If the hatch had not been open, I’m not sure we would have gotten a signal even when they were just outside. There was probably a way for the ship to picked up the signals and patch them into my suit, but I did not know how to make that happen. So I moved down the ramp and leaned against a landing strut as Enceladus shot away at make-believe targets.
The gas giant was dark in its new Dosei phase, but its rings jutted upward on the western horizon. Not quite vertical. We would have needed to have been on the equator to see that. The giant’s beauty was one thing I was going to miss about this world. With Bahram’s tight orbit, the gas giant was bigger in the sky and brighter than Nubes Magna was on Riva Lontana.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Almost there,” Morgan replied. In the suits, they were probably running about 40 kilometers per hour. The return trip would take much longer though since Dr. Z wouldn’t have a suit to aid him.
“Actually, I was asking Enceladus,” I clarified.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Enceladus replied.
“Use the torpedoes sparingly when it comes to the real thing,” I instructed. “We have only six of those. We might need those once we get into space. The plasma cannon, on the other hand, has an almost inexhaustible supply.”
“Got it,” Enceladus replied. “But why are they called torpedoes? Aren’t they just missiles?”
“Don’t really know,” I replied. “It’s just what the Spits call the long-range missiles.”
“We …. problem …Spits!” Drummer was at the edge of radio range.
I had heard enough. “Damn! They’re in trouble.” I jumped up the through the hatch and raced for the pilot’s seat, tossing aside my armored gloves as I ran.
“Stay in that seat, Enceladus.” I took the pilot’s seat. “You may just get to practice on some live Spits.”
Chapter 21
“How the hell did the Spits find out?” Enceladus yelled.
“Frick if I know,” I shouted back.
The ship’s bottom thrusters lifted us up, and I nudged the ship forward until we had a line of sight over the hill overlooking the estate.
Sure enough, two Spit scouts sat parked fifty meters from the main house. That wasn’t as bad as I had feared. If the Spits knew Dr. Z was here, they would have sent a lot more support than that. This was either a follow-up on some vague clue or tip, or their presence was unrelated to Dr. Z. Knowing the Spits, they had probably come to appropriate the plantation.
“Trite? Can you hear me?” Amerigo yelled into his com. I picked up their radio signals again, probably through the hatch I had not closed.
“Yeah, loud and clear.” I could also now see their positions on my HUD.
“The Spits are going through the house, room by room,” Drummer said.
“We don’t know where the doctor or Morgan’s folks are. We don’t think the Spits have found them though,” Amerigo added.
“Morgan,” I asked. “Where would your parent’s hide? In the house?”
“I don’t know! They … I don’t know!” Morgan shouted.
“Stay calm and think, Morgan,” I coaxed.
“I just don’t know where they would have gone.” Morgan seemed close to panicking.
“Alright then,” I said. “Put your faceplate up, Morgan, and call out to them. But stay hidden where the Spits can’t see you.”
“Momma! Poppa!” Morgan called out. “Momma! Poppa!”
I switched my view to infrared and looked around with the cameras. I spotted figures staring out of windows in the house. Then, in the trees to the right, I saw I saw two figures wave their arms toward Morgan. They edged toward Morgan. Then I spotted a third figure behind them.
“Hey, all, they’re in the trees just to the south behind you,” I announced.
Amerigo was the closest to them and headed back toward them. Drummer and Morgan followed behind.
“Enceladus, take out their vehicles,” I ordered.
“With pleasure,” she replied.
I was pretty sure the Spits below us had no idea that we were not on their side, but they were about to find out. The scouts flared up in my infrared vision as huge balls of fire.
“We’re taking frickin’ fire down here,” Drummer shouted.
I saw flashes from the rifles in the house. “Switch to infrared vision and nail anything giving off heat in that house,” I shouted to Enceladus.
I didn’t have to repeat the order as an explosion blew a hole into the side of the house. Every few seconds more chunks of material got blown out of side of the house facing us.
I felt sort of bad for ordering big holes to be blown out of Benjanin and Luci’s home like that, but they were not going to be able to return to it anyway. The Spits would know they were involved with us in some manner. The Spits would definitely interrogate them with torture and probably execute them when they could no longer get any more information out of them.
“Amerigo is down!” Drummer yelled.
“Momma! Momma!” Morgan screamed.
“Frick it!” I swore. “Use one of those torpedoes and take out the whole house. Everyone, get down.”
“One of the ones you told me to save for space? Got it.” Enceladus didn’t wait for my reply.
A streak shot away from our ship.
The house blew up an instant later. A huge ball of fire erupted into the sky and glass and bricks flew in every direction. The flames had to be visible all the way to that city up and across the lake.
I backed the ship up a bit and set her down on the top of the hill. We had to be away from the people below before I set the ship down and shut down the ultra-hot downward thrusters.
“Get everyone up to the ship as quick as you can,” I ordered. “Carry them if you have to.”
“Amerigo is dead,” Drummer said. “And the woman has been hit. Hurt bad. Took a flechette through the side of her stomach.”
“Bring her to the ship. We will cover you from here,” I said. “Enceladus, use the cannon on anything that looks suspicious.” I grabbed my rifle, jumped through the open hatch, and ran down the ramp before it even hit the ground.
“Morgan, are you alright?” I asked.
“My momma, she’s bleeding,” he sobbed.
“Hold something against her wounds if you can. But help get her back to the ship as fast as you can,” I said.
The group hurried up the hill as I fired random shots at or near the house. There was no return fire though, so all the Spits were either dead or at least knew better than to return fire.
D
rummer carried Luci, and the others trailed behind. I stopped firing at the house as the group drew near, and I ran down and assisted Drummer in carrying Luci up the ramp.
The tiny room immediately behind the bridge and on the starboard side was an emergency room. We carried Luci there and placed her on the solid slab under bright lights in the middle of the room. Blood drained onto the slab. As blood dripped off my glove, I activated the autosurgeon.
“Stand clear of the procedural zone,” a warning blared over speakers from above.
We all withdrew as a scanner rapidly flashed over Luci’s body. Straps swung up and around her, immobilizing her while leaving the injury site open for surgery. Robotic arms flew down and immediately commenced working, clamping off the bleeding, sticking an intravenous needle into her arm, and more. The multiple arms flashed so rapidly it was impossible to follow everything they did.
One of the great things about autosurgeons was the speed at which they performed. They were designed to quickly patch up soldiers that had received severe combat wounds. What the autosurgeons were not good at was dealing with complications.
I turned and stared at Ben. He stared at his wife’s body under the whirling arms and instruments of the surgeon. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply laid my hand on his slumping shoulder for a moment.
“You’ll just have to leave her to the surgeon and the fate of the cosmos,” I said after a while. “We need to go up, and you’ll need to be strapped in a seat for that.”
He craned his head toward me. “We can’t go anywhere with Luci like this!”
“We have to get out of here, or the Spits’ll kill us all, including your wife,” I insisted.
“But moving around while she’s being … worked on?”
“The autosurgeon’s built for operating on the move,” I replied. I didn’t say anything about the G’s from acceleration as we were about to blast off to the top of the atmosphere. I feared that, rather than anything else, was the biggest complication of her surgery. But we really had no other choice.
